Classified || 2 || ✔️ mature

05 | Lilac

TWO MONTHS AFTER THE FIRST KILL

My black boots scuff against the grey carpet as I strut around my apartment, blood red hair in wet ringlets down my back.

Moving to the chain-link armoury I built into the wall, I run featherlight fingertips over the weapons. Stepping back and admiring the view before smiling slightly.

The assortment of weapons stare back at me, guns glinting with a rage, daggers polished to perfection and garrotte wires disguised as bangles.

"Look at all the pretties."

I close my eyes against my own thoughts and shake my head, the image of a blonde woman with matching brown eyes disappearing like a cloud of smoke.

The scent clings to me like a leech but the image is no more.

I reach forward, fingers wrapping around two of my favoured pistols, their silver handles bright and scratch free. Their welcome weight a comfort in my calloused palms.

I quickly load the magazines and check the safety before stuffing them in the holsters strapped to my hip and thigh, the cool touch of leather skimming against my knuckles as my hands retreat.

Spinning, I grab my leather trench coat from the rack by the door and shrug it on.

The slam of the door echoes in my wake as I stroll effortlessly down the hall, skipping down the steps and whistling a tune under my breath.

The pitter patter of the rain grows louder as I stalk closer to the debilitated entryway of the extravagant motel in which I currently live.

The doorman – also known as the local drug dealer eyes me suspiciously. I completely ignore him and exit into the fresh rain and city wind.

I quickly find my car and yank on the handle until the door pops open and climb in. My hand disappears behind the wheel until I find the wires I use to start the car. With a twist of my fingers, it splutters to life.

The city blurs in my peripheral, the familiar and haunting sight of the place I now call home a comforting presence to my inner demons.

Fog crawls along the sides of the road, and I reach forward knocking my palm against the aircon until it blasts out luke-warm air.

I sigh at the slight respite from the crawling cold.

The buildings grow sparse, walls crumbled, lawns dry and untrimmed. The cracks in the road growing closer together and hazardous.

The politicians never cared about this side of the city. In truth, it helped certain people to stay under the radar.

A bane to the city but a blessing for those lying low.

The car suddenly jerks over a pothole I missed, hot humid air spilling against my fingers on the wheel, burning the skin from the heat.

I yank my hand off and hit the aircon once more, cursing its existence. The system dies.

"Satan's bitch."

I ignore the creeping cold and continue further down the road before a house enters my view. A small half crumbled home, the front a death trap and the back still intact.

I pull up to the front of the residence, the car lurching to a stop with a groan.

Exiting, I stroll up the front yard and pull myself up the non-existent steps with the handrail and weave my way between the holes in the veranda.

I pull the door open, not bothering to knock before stepping over the threshold. I stop as soon as I enter and slowly step over the slightly visible trip wire.

"Andy?"

"In the office!" A voice yells back.

I travel down the hall and enter the room at the far end of the small house, my friend's curly mass of auburn hair twisted into a frizzy bun.

She turns to face me, the glasses perched on her nose falling slightly before being pushed back up with scarred fingers.

I sigh, kicking my foot forward and crossing my ankles as I lean against the door frame.

"Andromeda, when was the last time you slept?" I ask incredulously as I notice the dark circles under her moss green eyes.

"Over two months ago when we started this vendetta." She quips, narrowing her sage eyes at me when she notices where my attention drifts, her lips pulled down in an ever-present frown.

She's not sad, it's just her face.

"And don't call me that, you know I hate it." Her lips pull down more.

"Really? I quite like it. " I walk further in and plop myself down on the lounge. "Andromeda, a goddess and your name literally means 'leader of men', how could you not like it?"

"Who would want to lead men, when women exist?"

I hum, smiling. "True." I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "What have you got for me?"

"I have the location of Leroy Jean Alexander."

My head snaps to her, "Where?"

"There's a fundraiser tonight, Mr. Alexander is on the guestlist, marked as attending."

"Get me in there."

Andy is already nodding, her smile wide. "The invitation is on your bed. So is the dress."

"Sounds good." I hop up, brushing my hands against the side of my thighs to brush off the imaginary dust. "And the blueprints for the building are with the dress and invitation I gather?"

"What do you take me for? An amateur?"

"You are an amateur."

"Piss off."

"Love you too."

"I loathe your existence."

"Lies." I whisper and stalk down the hall, to the room that's mine when I stay over.

I walk through, breathing in the stale air and scrunching my nose. Walking to the window, I pull it up slightly to let air in before turning for the bed, my gaze on swaths of white. I lift the dress up, my lips lifting in a smirk.