Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen.
ARTEMIS’S POINT OF VIEW
After I got the message, I took my laptop and searched for my target.
I take a sip of wine and type his name into Google, but I find nothing. What the fuck? Who doesn’t have social media?
Well, I don’t, but then again, I’m an assassin. Hmm... maybe he’s just antisocial.
Next, I crack the police database, and just as I’m about to drink a sip of wine, his picture appears on my screen.
What the actual fuck?
For the first few minutes, I was frozen. My mind went numb together with my body, and all I could do was stare at the handsome stranger who haunts my days and nights.
Then realization hits me.
It’s him.
My mind starts racing. I can feel my heart in my throat. I start shaking, but... I don’t know why. He’s just a stranger, right? I shouldn’t be bothered, but here I am, more bothered than ever.
I close my eyes and open them again, hoping it’s just a misunderstanding. I read the police info, and all he has are a few parking and speeding tickets. Why would anyone want him dead? He doesn’t look like a criminal. Okay, maybe he does. But not on paper, and looks aren’t everything. Knox looks like a serial killer, but he’s not. But then again, I don’t look like a coldhearted assassin.
Oh, God, do I have to kill him?
And is he the Vincenzi I know? He can’t be, can he? There are plenty of Vincenzos. If he were that Vincenzo, I would have known him. Sure, I only took a job from Cornelius Vincenzo, but I looked into him-- but I didn’t look at pictures. All I looked for was the connection between him and the target he wanted me to kill.
Realization hits me again, but this time it feels way worse. I feel like someone injected adrenaline straight into my heart.
Fuck, this can’t be real. He can be another Vincenzo. And even if he is that Vincenzo, I don’t care. I was contracted to kill him, and I will.
You need to calm down, Artemis.
I start pacing the floor, trying to find a solution. But a solution to what?
Oh, shit, my brain feels like it’s inside a tornado, a very fast tornado that makes me dizzy.
I think my brain will break.
“What am I going to do? What did he do? Okay, I refuse the job and that’s it. I don’t think I can do it. But then again, if I refuse it, they will send someone else who will kill him slowly and painfully. At least I’ll do it fast; he won’t even be awake when I do it. I will drug him.” I’m going crazy.
“I SAW THE MAN TWO FUCKING TIMES! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? I have to pull my shit together. Okay, I’m not weak, I can do this, right? FUCK!” Definitely crazy. I mean, I’m screaming at myself—fuck, one hundred percent.
I take my phone and text the employer to find the reason. Maybe he did something awful, and then I’ll be able to do it.
God, please help me.
‘You know the price, but I need the reason.’
It seemed like forever until I received the answer. I held my fucking breath until I got dizzy and realized what I was doing. I’m crazy.
God, please let him be some rapist or something like that.
‘My son. An eye for an eye.’ And I got the answer, but it’s not the answer I was praying for. This can mean a whole lot of things.
Okay, so, he killed his son. But why? Maybe he had a good reason… Dear God, help me.
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE FUCKING REASON! HE KILLED AND I WILL KILL HIM! END OF STORY!” Fuck, I have to breathe and calm down.
It’s not a big deal. As I said, I saw him two times, so he’s just another target.
But fuck… it doesn’t feel like that.
After a lot of conversations and contradictions between me and the Red Demon, -we established I’m crazy, so don’t even bother making sense of anything I say or do right now-, I got dressed, jumped in the car, typed his address into the GPS, and drove to the destination, hoping he’s not that Vincenzo and that he lives in some cave, being all creepy with pictures of someone on his wall and some sick altar and shit like that.
I don’t know how long it took me to get there because I was still in shock, giving myself pep talks and making plans, but it took a little while. A long while. Or so I felt.
When I finally arrive at the destination, I park the car far enough away from the address so nobody can see it, grab my binoculars, and go to watch the house.
I rectify. That’s not a house, it’s a mansion. A fucking palace, even. It’s at least three times bigger than my house, and my house is huge.
Well, the hope that somewhere in that huge palace there is a room with someone’s pictures on the wall and an altar with candles and creepy stuff is still pulsing in my chest, keeping itself alive because if it turns out he’s not a creep or a monster, my mission will get ten times harder.
So, cheer for the creeps, and pray my target is one of them.