“I will find you,” he hissed, hand encircled around Victoria’s wrist in a bruising grip.
His breath smelled of mint and she wondered if, perhaps, it would have been better if she could smell alcohol; if the possibility of blaming his behavior on drunkenness would have been preferable.
But she had no time for what ifs, had little patience for indulging his tantrum.
“Not likely,” she shot back, yanking her arm away.
She walked away from him; his body curled up on the floor via a well-placed kick
—
As Venus, her life was simple. Wake up, check her email, receive assignment, find the target, kill the target, go to sleep.
Simple did not mean easy. Or normal.
But it was still her life. One that she had chosen, one that she had excelled at, and one that gave her satisfaction.
Until the entire Falcone family had been obliterated in the span of three days.
All of them–from the patriarch to the lieutenants to every little runner on the street–but one.
“Shh, little one, I’ll keep you safe,” the woman once named Victoria, murmured to the young child trembling from shock on her sofa beneath three of her spare blankets.
Henry Falcone, the youngest blood member of the Falcone family, slated to inherit control of a major chunk of all organized crime in the nation.
Including her services.
She couldn’t be Venus anymore, that’s not what he needed.
—
Vivian hadn’t planned to fall in love–but who plans to? If she had, she certainly wouldn’t have chosen Curtis Ives of all people.
“Tell me a secret,” she said during one of their date nights–Henry and Curtis’ son, Caleb, asleep upstairs. The kids had a sleepover, and she supposed the adults had one as well.
“Tell me a secret,” she had said, warm and relaxed from good food and wine and company, “Something you’ve never told anyone else,” she continued.
She hadn’t expected much from it, maybe some silly childhood story. But she should have known he would make it something real. Something serious.
He was halfway in love with her, with Vivian that is, this identity that she had created to protect a little boy from his would-be murderer. Curtis would have done a lot more for her than tell her a secret.
If she had known what the secret was before, she would have never asked.
~
A/N: Real quick thing mashed out when I realized midnight was approaching. And, for some reason, like my other word prompt drabbles this one does not have the actual word in it.
JackSGreyson Says 