Ransom

Nolan walked quietly through the suburban neighborhood of Westport, looking around with his hands stuffed roughly into his hoodie pockets. The air was crisp, smelling of pumpkin and apple and something akin to pinewood. His spine rippled with an involuntary shiver. He anticipated this part. The first step to a long planned mission.

Plenty of nights had gone by of reconnaissance and late meetings with Duchane at his over the top mansion on the top of the hill. His only rival being none other than Hale. The wealthy businessman that bought out almost half of Duchane's company without much more than a thought and a whim to defend his precious daughter against a snide, perverted remark Duchane himself had made about her.

The act had forced Duchane to publicly apologize to Olivia Hale and her father; to publicly humiliate himself in other words. To apologize to someone he thought was below him because they'd rather live in comfort than extravagance.

Well, that had gotten Duchane far, hadn't it?

He'd been practically hiding in his mansion on the hill, looking for an assassin with Nolan's skill to capture Olivia and make it seem real, to get the money that was appropriated by Hale himself. Not that it was without cause but was indeed a rather harsh reaction from what little information Duchane provided.

It was, after all, why he ended up hiring Nolan rather than someone else.

Not just Nolan's skill, though it spoke for itself with the number of completed assignments and his more than sufficient kill count. His discipline and his aquiesent nature had made him the perfect candidate to hole up with the young Olivia Hale. She'd turned twenty-three that summer.

Had just celebrated her birthday two months ago. At least, that's what Nolan had learned during his research time frame. He'd been given a deadline. Seeing as the Hale family was basically untouchable, Duchane had wanted to take control from them for a while. He had wanted them reduced to nothing. So, he hired Nolan, the only man with discipline and a kill count of over one thousand.

He'd never been more terrified of a man before. Duchane was not a small man himself, and he was no stranger to fights. But something about Nolan had petrified him. His body trembled with the fear of whether or not survival against him would be feasible coursing through his varicose veins and into his withered bones.

Eager to end the meeting, he hadn't relayed most information about the why's of him enlisting Nolan. Nolan was a ghost, completely untraceable. The only way to contact him was by leaving a letter of hire at an abandoned house, where the land surrounding it had been laden with security gear and traps to ensure no unwanted visitors would even make it there. At least, not without meeting their death shortly after.

It truly had been a brutal business. Nolan didn't mind, it brought out that familiar side of him. He'd always been so in tune with death, starting with his father's murder when he was only seven, shortly after his mother had followed. Some men had brutally attacked them in his family home. He'd been pushed through foster homes since then, all the way until he turned eighteen and enlisted.

He'd worked his way up to a Marine Raider and led a team of elite Marines. The missions he had undergone plagued his mind with things no average person would even have the capability to push aside. Nolan had undergone capture and torture for two years until he had been able to escape.

Now, an assassin of his caliber was hired to kidnap and hold a twenty-three year old girl hostage.

He snorted quietly at the thought. He could be out, thriving in his late twenties, almost at the thirty year mark of his prime. Instead he was avoiding crunching leaves and following behind Olivia, ever clueless, naive, and a pain in his ass already.

Through his research, Nolan had found that her father, Marcus, was regularly incapacitated due to alcohol and substance consumption, but when he was lucid enough, he was an abusive piece of human garbage. Marcus had lost his wife, Elizabeth, three years ago, due to that same negligence.

He'd assaulted her and ended her life. It was an accident that he'd managed to finish her off, but he had covered it through bribery and extortion.

He never got sentenced with the murder of his wife. Then, the assault turned to Olivia. He beat her regularly. Now that Elizabeth didn't take the brunt of the beatings, she did. Nolan wasn't even sure this mission was a kidnapping and hostage situation. It was more like rescuing a damsel in distress.

That, he didn't do.

It wasn't for lack of capability to do it, but he didn't have the emotional response capacity. He lacked empathy, sympathy, genuine human emotion.

He'd kill ruthlessly and never bat an eye or feel an ache in his chest. He'd been the most regarded member of his team in the Marines, now, the most sought after assassin for any job.

He was discreet, lethal, and never left any loose ends. He didn't ask questions, at least, not unnecessary ones. He didn't bat an eye at any outrageous requests, be it that they want the person they're hiring him for to be tortured for information, scared half to death, or framed before their untimely demise, brought specifically by Nolan himself.

If he thought about it, he couldn't recall the last question he'd asked regarding any job. Until... Well, Olivia Hale. She was such a pawn in these games, so naive to the world around her. Shielded from it, really.

Albeit, by her father's negligence and ill intentions. But, shielded from the outside, nonetheless. He couldn't wrap his head around it.

He recalled the meeting with Duchane. His gravely voice had said Olivia's name with a disdain unmatched by previous clients. He'd spoken in a way that made her seem a bigger part than what she actually played in this asinine game of rivalry. She'd simply told Duchane to get his wrinkly fingers off of her and to leave her be. Nolan didn't see the problem with that. At least she'd stood her ground instead of freezing in fear.

Nolan wondered if she'd do the same when it came time to kidnap her. Which time had quickly boiled down to.

It was nearly there, as soon as she'd round that final corner onto the deserted street she would take her walks through, most times when home life had caught up to her, he'd grab her, throw her in the car he had waiting there and then disappear.

Except, she didn't turn this time.

Nolan bristled at the change of routine but kept his body naturally composed and steady as he continued to follow Olvia. There was a thirty-foot or so gap between them. He watched as she silently picked up her pace, nonchalantly glancing around and catching his eye over her shoulder in a discreet manner. An average person wouldn't have known that she knew she was being followed. But, Nolan wasn't an average person.

His forest green eyes made quick work of taking in the street they walked on, no one was around. Houses were falling behind on upkeep, but there were enough witnesses that if she made a sound, he'd be screwed. They'd see him. His height, his outfit, his face possibly.

So, he did what he knew. He pulled the hidden mask from his hoodie pocket while she was slowly picking up pace, put it over his head, and picked his pace up as well. His fingers wrapped around the handle of the K-Bar knife in his pocket as he unsheathed it. He gained on Olivia rather quickly at his height of 6'5". She was barely 5'4", so, naturally, his stride was much wider. She jolted at the first contact, swinging rapidly, but no noise escaped her.

He'd had a strange feeling of approval hit him at that. It settled against his ribs like an anchor. He shoved the strange feeling away and grabbed her fully, wrapping his arm around her slender shoulders while placing the sharpened blade at her ribcage, next to her heart.

She gasped and calmed in an instant, knowing that recklessness would lead to her death.

"You'll go quietly or you'll be buried in the woods right over there." He spoke evenly, lowly, his voice a quiet command that made her spine stiffen. "O-Okay." She stammered on a large gulp, her voice was soft, nearly a whisper.

A mixture of pure panic and resignment to her fate engraved itself on her face.

Nolan noted that up close, she was quite beautiful.

Objectively speaking, of course.