Chapter 1
Taking a bath, making myself breakfast, and then dressing up, then waiting in my well-hidden apartment—not from my friends, but from the world, from handcuffs, from a life sentence.
Who am I waiting for? It’s a call from the boss. When he says die Catalina, I die, and when he says kill yourself, I do so. “No” is not something that exists between me and him.
The phone started ringing, and for the first time I get a mission in a place of authority.
My driver was waiting with seven security cars.
When we arrived outside the courthouse, I told them not to follow me to avoid eyes of suspicion.
I walk in like a model with full confidence.
When I was going towards the elevator, the doors started quickly closing. From nowhere, a man puts his hand in front of the door so it doesn’t close in my face.
I go into the elevator and say thanks.
The man doesn’t give any response, and I still haven’t looked into his eyes.
I am not someone who cares about everyone around me—ego, arrogance, or whatever—I don’t give anyone my attention or even care.
After being quiet for two seconds, from nowhere he says “thanks.” I slowly look up and see what I should not have seen.
When I saw his well-shaped face, manly beard, and beautiful blue eyes, I completely got lost.
I don’t know what this feeling is. Is it shame, or is it hate? Whatever it is, I should not be close to this man.
There is something about him I can’t avoid, unlike any other male.
The elevator doors open, and I walk out, heading to the place he told me to. Meanwhile, that man continued to another floor.
“Hi madam.” A man with glasses and completely black clothes, like he is going to a funeral—that is certainly one of us.
He takes me to a meeting room.
“Take a seat, madam,” he says, and then walks away.
Five other men walk in and take their seats.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“We have pictures, but since he is working today and here, it’s going to be easy.”
“Show me.”
One of them gives me five pictures.
“Alright, let’s see,” I say, and when I first see the pictures—
“He!” I scream.
Everyone starts looking at me suspiciously.
“Do you know him?” the meeting leader asks.
I don’t know what I am thinking. Do I kill this man and those feelings that I cannot explain? Or do I save him and learn what those feelings actually mean?
“Are you okay?” one of the members asks.
“Yes, I am. I saw him on my way here, that’s why I reacted. This meeting is over,” I say and walk out.
This is how our job works: you do everything quickly, no questions, and no hesitation. You only do what you have been told.
Now my mission starts.
First, as it is written on the paper, he is on floor number five, and there are five men and two women on that floor. Only three people are threats on that floor: Sandra, Michiel, and Kalindr.
I finish off these three, and then the main target: Ciro Benton, a lawyer.
And the thing is, as it says in the collected information, behind this person there are many mysteries—such as who his father is and how his mother died. It’s like these things were completely erased from this universe.
I hear the ding, which means the elevator did its job and now it’s my turn.
I pick up the gun that I hid in my socks. I put on the silencer, and as a professional shooter, three bullets are enough.
I look at his desk, and from nowhere I feel weak again. I raise my gun against his face and say, “Don’t move.” He raises his hand quickly and looks at me with a face of disappointment.
I walk into his room and say:
“Last words?”
“Maybe your colour changed, but your eyes didn’t.”
“What are you playing? A hero? Don’t be stupid and waste this chance. You know your last words could be like everyone else’s.”
“No!”
“Do you really think that death scares me?”
Why? Why didn’t I shoot him yet? I have never hesitated, but this time I should have already shot him. But something is different. Is it something about him or me? I am so lost and just want to kill him—and those feelings I got from the morning. But my biggest curse is my curiosity.
I really want to know who he is, what those feelings are, and why they are stopping me so far.
“This is it for you,” I say, and slowly lower my gun at his heart.
Maybe I hesitated at the start, but I know one thing: if I changed my target, it is either because I changed my mind or because I made my decision.
