Her eyes transfixed him; a pair of deep pools that seemed to suck like a vortex. She looked like she had a story to tell but he wouldn’t find out if he pulled the trigger. The longer he waited the more he felt like she was one person he would not kill.
Damian cursed inwardly, it was the only time he’d ever been indecisive. Okay, the second time. He was flat out confused, despite having his semi-automatic pistol pointed at her. Her eyes arrested him…they didn’t betray fear; rather, they elicited a gentle kind of defiance. And that was exactly what caught him off guard.
The hit was straightforward; get in, make the kill, disguise the scene. His employers already had the fall guy in mind, a low-life. Damian had been provided with some hair samples and fingerprints of the would-be killer so the forensic analysts would have it easy. Tough luck for the small-timer to be framed but the case would be a clean-cut one before the court.
He had a feeling there was more to this hit than the agency was letting on but he wasn’t supposed to ask questions. Doing so could prove to be his undoing. What Damian’s intuition didn’t pick was that his survival beyond that night was hinged on his decision to kill or not to kill.
“Screw this, let’s get out of here.”
But he was right; there was more to what the agency was letting on. As he turned, he heard the unmistakable click of a revolver hammer moving into place.
“You forgot the most important rule Damian,” She said, “Shoot first, ask questions later.”
PS: Sorry I wen’t short again. Pretty sure some readers are gearing up to snap my neck because of this… ‘torture’. I promise to publish something much longer in my next post. Maybe :D.
Photo Credit: http://www.presse-citron.net