Chapter 18: Codename: Blackheart Chapter Eighteen

The last couple of days have been tense. Alec and I haven’t spoken much, which is fine by me. He spends most of his time watching TV while I work on my laptop or take calls. He did call his mum once to check in on her and let her know that he's okay. He sounds like he cares about her a great deal. I’ve left the apartment a couple times to either handle business or go shopping and have been surprised each time I came back to find him still here. 

I’m in the middle of making dinner when I hear his deep intake of breath. “Do you like being an assassin?” he asks gently. 

I turn to look at him, doing my best to keep my face neutral even though his question was a complete surprise. No one has ever asked me that question before. I’m not even sure how to answer. 

“I don’t see it as something to like or dislike,” I say truthfully. 

He frowns at my answer, “Do you like killing people?”

“Still trying to diagnose me as a psychopath?” I ask with a smirk. 

He smiles sheepishly, “I’m just trying to understand you. From what little I was told about you; you weren’t painted in a good light. I was told that you’re cold, sadistic, and ruthless. I’ve seen you be ruthless; I’ve seen you be cold, but I haven’t seen you once be sadistic. In fact, I’ve seen you be compassionate a few times. You’re not who I thought you were. For someone with such a terrifying reputation, you’ve shown me so much kindness. In your own weird way, that is,” he explains. 

I’m silent as I serve up our dinner, pondering his words. It’s true, I’ve shown him more emotion than I normally would and at this point, I’m not sure if it’s because I need him to trust me or because I like being myself around him. 

“Emotions have no place in my line of work. They can get you killed. So yes, I’m cold and I don’t feel bad about that. Am I ruthless? Hmm, no. I would say that I’m committed and efficient. If I’m given a job, I’m going to do it to the best of my abilities. Am I sadistic? No. Perhaps to some, I do appear that way, but do I take any enjoyment or pleasure out of it? No, I do not. I’m proud of what I do, and I’m proud of how good I am. But it’s not the same as saying I love killing people. I don’t think I can explain it in a way you can understand,” I tell him, shaking my head. 

He looks thoughtful as I sit on the couch next to him putting our plates on the coffee table. “Try me,” he prompts. 

I look at him for a moment and see interest in his eyes. I nod. “Legacy. That’s why I like what I do,” I tell him. 

His brows furrow in confusion but the interest in his eyes intensifies. “What legacy?” he inquires.

“I’m from a family of assassins,” I say nonchalantly. 

Hearing this his eyebrows merge into his hairline and I have to stop myself from laughing. “What, like a family business?” he clarifies, making me chuckle. Dammit, I wasn’t supposed to laugh. What is it about this guy that has me sharing my emotions with him?

“I guess you could say that. Five generations on my father’s side and six generations on my mother’s side.” He looks utterly shocked by this revelation. “I feel proud and honoured to be part of something that spans generations,” I say honestly. Alec just looks at me intently, searching for something but I don’t know what. Bored by the silence, I turn to my plate and Alec follows my lead. “Come to think of it, there are some people I enjoy killing,” I say suddenly, causing him to freeze with his fork in front of his mouth.

“Oh?” he asks cautiously. I nod affirmatively. “Can I have an example?”

“I recently killed a man who everyone thought was a saint. He was loved in the community, gave to charity, and was rolling in money. Everyone loved him.”

“You enjoyed killing a Good Samaritan?” 

I don’t miss the disappointment and disgust in his voice.

“You of all people should know appearances can be deceiving. He was no Samaritan; he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was a deviant and an abuser. Groomed an underage girl, controlled her life, married her when she was of legal age and spent their marriage abusing her day in and out. All while presenting himself as a loving and doting husband. When he wasn’t abusing her, he was off screwing prostitutes, and I assure you his taste in young girls hadn’t gone away. So yes, I took great pleasure in killing him. It felt like I was doing the world a service,” I explain. 

There’s anger and disgust on his face, but I can tell it’s not at me. “I’m glad you killed the sick bastard. Any man who does that to a woman can no longer be called a man,” he says.

I smile at him, “You sound like my grandfather,” I say softly. 

This makes him smile, “Is that a compliment or an insult?” he asks playfully.

I chuckle, “It’s a compliment. He loathes anyone who commits any act of sexual assault, and he despises anyone who would lay a hand on their spouse. Male or female.”

I know my mum and Dad do some crazy shit but that’s just how they are. Mum knows my dad can handle her and vice versa so there is comfort in their crazy ways. Mum would never actually lay a hand on my father in anger or violence, and neither would my father. Training is a different story though.

“Despite the whole assassin thing, your grandfather sounds like a good man,” he says genuinely. I can’t help the big smile on my face. I love my family dearly and this is the first time I’m talking about them with someone like this. It’s nice. Alec smiles wider seeing my response. 

Things return to silence as we continue to eat when I can feel Alec go tense beside me. “Have you ever had a job go wrong? Or had someone get away?” he tentatively asks.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Random question. Not to my knowledge. Unless you know something I don't,” I say casually.

He shakes his head, "I was just curious," he mumbles into his food. Curious indeed. “So how old were you when you first killed someone?” he asks as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Six.” 

He starts choking on his drink. He coughs some more and then takes another sip so he can breathe properly. “You were six?! What the fuck? What kind of parents have their child assassinating people when they are just a child?!” he shouts in outrage. The man is pissed and now I’m looking at him murderously. The look on my face is enough to shut him up. I even see fear flash across his face.

“Don’t ever insult my parents again. I won’t hesitate to kill you if you do,” I say coldly, and he visibly shudders at my tone. I’m deadly serious, no one bad-mouths my family. No one. “And they didn’t make me do anything. It was self-defence,” I say curtly as I continue to eat. 

He thinks over what I said in silence as he picks at his food. “What happened?” he asks softly. I freeze. I’ve never actually told anyone outside of my family this story.

“We were staying at a hotel in France. My parents were catching up with some old friends and they wanted to introduce me to them, which is why I tagged along. My dad was down in the bar having a drink with his friend while gorged myself on éclairs in our suite. I ended up with an upset stomach, so Mum quickly went down to get something for me to take. They had no reason to suspect the hotel wasn’t secure, but someone who had a vendetta against my mum had been following us and broke into the suite. I didn’t run or hide. Mum and Dad always taught me to be strong; to not show fear. Really, I just wanted my mum and dad. I knew when they found out they’d unleash hell on earth for me.” I smile at the thought of how protective they are of me. “But the man was cocky. He punched me in the face, and it hurt like a bitch. He was dragging me by my hair, telling me how he was going to send me back to my parents piece by piece.” Alec’s hands start to ball up into fists as I speak.  

I take a deep breath before I continue. “I knew I had to fight back. I couldn’t let him take me. I bit him as hard as I could, punched him in the dick with all my strength to get loose and ran to grab a knife Mum had in her bag. I sat on the bedroom floor clutching the knife and waited for him to come after me again. He stormed into the bedroom and bent down to grab me, but when he did, I turned around and stabbed him in the neck. There was blood everywhere. I watched as he tried to stop the bleeding, but the wound was too big. I’d severed the artery. I just stood there and watched him bleed out,” I say as I sit back. I don’t know why I told him that. Maybe on some level, I want him to understand me. Not that I actually care what he thinks about me. 

He’s looking at me with so many emotions; anger, sadness, sympathy, and awe. “What happened when your parents came back?” he asks gently.

“They nearly had a heart attack. It was the first time I ever saw them look scared. They hugged me so tight; like they were afraid I’d disappear. When I told them what happened, they became furious. Dad had tears in his eyes and refused to let me go, but they had to take care of the body. Mum gave me a bath and got me cleaned up and that night they had me sleep in their bed. They refused to leave me on my own. They told me how proud of me they were and how strong I was, but I saw how hurt and sad they were that I’d had to do what I did. I was fine, but they weren’t. It hit them hard, and it was a while before they were comfortable being away from me.”

“They must love you very much,” he says wistfully. 

I nod in agreement, “I’ll never doubt their love for me.” He reaches out and squeezes my hand and I look up at him in surprise. His hand feels surprisingly nice around mine.

“Thank you, Heart,” he says sincerely. I cock my head to the side in confusion. “For being open with me. You have no reason to trust me, but you trusted me with all that. It means a lot,” he says with a soft smile. 

I can’t help but smile back. “Your turn,” I say. He looks confused. “Tell me about your family,” I encourage. He lets my hand go as his body stiffens. Sensitive subject I see. I think about how he said only his mum has ever shown him kindness. “What’s your mum like?” I ask. At that, he smiles, love and memories dancing in his eyes.

“My mum is the most amazing person on the planet,” he tells me enthusiastically. He looks like a happy little boy. It’s cute and I can’t help but smile at him. “We’re extremely close. I’d do anything for my mum. Anything,” he says and there’s that flash of anger in his eyes again. His emotions bounce around like a freaking rubber ball. 

“Not close to your father?” I ask. His features harden and his muscles tense. That’s enough to tell me he hates his father. 

“I don’t want to talk about him,” he says tightly, and I nod in understanding. “My mum was happy before she met him. He destroys everything he touches. I wish he was dead,” he says with bitterness in his voice. 

“My services are available at the moment if you’re interested,” I suggest playfully. 

He relaxes and laughs, looking over at me with a smile. “Pretty messed up that I know that was meant to be a kind gesture,” he says in amusement. “Honestly my dad isn’t even the worst thing about my family,” he says, piquing my interest.

“What is then?” I ask curiously. 

He freezes like he realises he’s said too much and quickly shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just know that my family is fucked up. But my mother is a good woman, she deserves better,” he says thoughtfully. 

Things are pretty quiet after that. I shared more with Alec than I’ve ever shared with anyone. Maybe it was a risky move, but I think it’ll work out to my benefit in the long run. At least I hope so. Right now I’m in a situation where I’m not following my usual habits. It’s exhilarating, but it also has me on edge because I have to worry about just how much can go wrong.