It was really child's play.
These Interrogators had never had a real fight in their lives. They had postured themselves like they were preparing for some schoolyard skirmish. She had picked them off one at a time.
Three down, one to go.
Yes, Kella had been bruised, scratched, and had bled a bit. She would heal. However, she had yet to find any of her victims able to heal from death.
Hands relaxed near her thighs, she wiggled her fingers slightly. Every assassin had their preference for a particular weapon; she favored knives. Lethal, accurate and unlike other weapons, they usually required her to be in close proximity to her target. It was the only time she preferred having physical contact with another human being.
Most adversaries preferred to stand at a distance, feigning bravado. The men she often encountered attempted to threaten her with their size. Often underestimated, she illuminated their reality with the first, solid, painful connection.
The realization that a woman could have so powerful a strike should have struck some fear into them.
But, no.
It was the same scenario every time. It would only enrage them all the more, like a bull seeing red. Flailing around, they would land 3 punches out of every 10, and be gasping for air - completely winded within 2 minutes.
After that, child's play.
She stood before him now, waiting for the answer to her ultimatum.
Ever since the night Cynthia had begged her not to kill, Kella had altered her methods. Against her better judgement, she offered them each an alternative to death.
Thankfully for her, their egos would never allow surrender. In the final moments when they begged for mercy, it was far beyond negotiation time.
Now here again - because of Cynthia, she had offered a choice.
Once again, she waited for the reply.
She slid her fingers over one of her blades strapped to her thigh. It found its home in her palm, each callous and ridge and valley of her hand conforming to its specific, familiar location on the handle. She had given him enough time to think - and bleed. The answer would be required now.
"Time's up."
Bent over, he lifted his head, chest heaving.
She heard the noise behind her at the same time she saw the corner of his lips curl. His gaze lifted over her left shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Kella."
The little girl's voice whimpering softly behind her told her everything she needed to know.
Without turning around, Kella knew Susan had been right all along. There was a fifth.
And he was holding Cynthia.
I loved writing this story. But as always, I most enjoy wondering what the reader will speculate as it continues. It was originally meant to be a stand-alone piece, but I decided to write more, spin it, flip it, and gently shove the reader down the rabbit hole. Hope you'll enjoy the fall. 😏 More tomorrow.
Missed previous chapters?
| Ch 01 | Ch 2 | Ch 03 |
|---|---|---|
| Ch 04 | Ch 05 | Ch 06 |
| Ch 07 | Ch 08 | Ch 09 |
| Ch 10 |
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