Could I really kill Moretti?

I thought about this the whole time I packed my bag. Every knife and gun I put in my bag gave me a mental image of me killing him with it. I envisioned those piercing eyes of his closing for the last time at my hand. I felt like I was going to be sick.

Get a grip on yourself. This is a job. This is what you've always done. It's no different.

I needed to control whatever the hell I was feeling and do what I've been doing since I was 19. No feelings. No emotions. No distractions. Just kill him.

Kill Moretti.

__

There was a small woods on the outskirts of Moretti's property. It was dark so the trees shielded me from sight. It was after midnight and the lights were all off in the Moretti mansion, the servants had already returned home. From my time there, I noticed they came in at 6AM to begin work.

However, I still had security to evade. I didn't see any of the guards posted outside. From my time inside the house, I remembered where they were posted. There were seven regulars. Two by the entrance and one in the main hall. There were two in total in the left wing of the house, one covering each floor. While there was only one in the right wing on the first floor. There was no guard as I remember outside of mine and Moretti's room in the top floor of the right wing.

That was going to work in my favor.

I found myself looking at the window I had previously jumped out of. Though three months had passed since, I felt chills remembering the look Moretti had given me when I jumped out. It was almost as if he cared. And not just because he was losing a good assassin, but because he cared about me.

Don't be ridiculous.

I brushed off the absurd thought and went to the back window of the dining room, located in the lower right wing of the home.

I pulled out my glass cutter and cut a large enough hole in the window for me to fit through, as breaking the window would be too loud and lifting it would sound the alarm. I pulled the glass out of the home and slowly laid it down beside me in the grass, not making a single sound.

I climbed through, my shoes meeting the fancy rug in dining room. I remember this room. I had walked in wearing only Moretti's t-shirt. At the time, I had thought I'd seen something in his eyes. But that can't be.

He had invited me to breakfast with him. The food was delicious. He asked me my name and he had seemed so genuine and the whole atmosphere made me feel safe. I had never experienced anything like that.

You're romanticizing it. He just wanted to use you like everyone else. Now get up there.

I began to move, my eyes darting around to scope out the area. It was almost pitch black in the house, the moonlight from the windows only illuminated so much.

I could only see my hand in front of me, so what I didn't see was the much larger, rough hand reaching for me. It wrapped itself around my face tightly and the other held me in a chokehold. Shock had kept me still for a second.

"Who do you think you are, little girl?" An unfamiliar , gravely voice whispered in my ear.

God, I couldn't tell if he wanted to kill me or grope me. His hand touched my chest and I immediately stomped my foot on top of his, causing his hold to release with a grunt from him. I swiftly turned out of his hold and wrapped my arms around his neck. He gurgled and tried to fight back but before long, he had passed out.

After gently laying him on the floor, I scurried out of the room and to the staircase that led to Moretti's room. I had to be speedy, I couldn't chance another guard seeing me or seeing the passed out man downstairs.

I stepped on the sides of the stairs to risk any creaking sounds. Once I had made it to the top, I scanned around once more. Nothing. I walked past the window I jumped out of and further down the hallway. I passed my room, the room he gave me, and kept on towards his.

The last door.

I stopped in front of it and took a deep breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Don't hesitate. Don't think. Just do what you do.

I swiftly turned the knob, ready to attack. But I was not met with a fight. The room was dim but cool, the large window was open, letting the moonlight and breeze in. The white curtains blew dreamily away from the window and into the room.

To my left was Moretti's bed. A large bed with pools of white sheets and blankets. Under the mass of blankets was the man of the night, Moretti himself.

He was shirtless and his comforter was pulled up to just below the stomach, leaving him exposed. One arm was behind his head and the other placed limply over him. He looked so vulnerable.

His face was laid to the side, facing me. I couldn't see his hard eyes. His lips were pursed and his face looked so innocent. He looked so relaxed. I wondered what it'd be like to wake up to this every morni-

Do your damn job. Don't be

With a sigh, I unsheathed my knife. A gun would be too loud.

Then he stirred and my mind went crazy. But alas, he was just dreaming. He twisted a bit but finally returned to his slumber.

I brought my knife right up to his neck, before I could apply pressure his lips moved.

"Bella," He murmured in his sleep.

My name. Why would he be saying my name right now? Was he dreaming of me? So he did think of me. I relaxed. He said Bella, not Psycho. Perhaps I was wrong, maybe he did see me as more than just-

A firm hand gripped my hand holding the knife and blue eyes whipped open at me.

I felt like his stare was holding me tightly in place, like I couldn't move or take a single breath even if I wanted to. Then his eyes left mine and looked down at the knife.

Immediately, he reached for the knife and threw it out of my hands, flipping me over and pinning me down. I lifted my knees and hit him in the stomach, making him double over. I took the chance to get away and almost made it to the door before I felt a pull on my arm, he ripped me back towards him and held me in a chokehold position, but he didn't use any force. I struggled against him. He leaned his head down. "Now Bella, what are you doing in my room?" I struggled once again and broke free of his grasp.

"Stay back," I warned him. His eyes had humor in them.

"Weren't you the one just holding a knife to my throat?" He almost laughed.

"Well, yes. But, it's complicated." I tried to explain myself but there wasn't much to say to help my case.

He could tell he still wasn't safe with me and his eyes still eagerly watched my every move. His eyes had a glint if danger in them and I don't think he was going to forgive me trying to kill him that easily.

I looked to the left and saw the metal of my knife shimmer in the moonlight. Moretti's eyes watched mine and he knew that I saw it.

I jumped for the knife and he immediately jumped after me. I landed on the ground, reaching for the knife but I felt two solid hands clasp around my ankles and pull me back towards them. "Motherfucker!" I yelled, my fingertips had almost reached the handle.

He sat on top of me, his weight the only thing that could keep me pinned. He held one of my arms down but my other was too busy reaching for his face, clawing at what I could.

"B-Bella. Bella. Bella!" He finally managed to pin the second arm after wrestling me. I calmed down from my frenzy to look at him, really look at him, once more.

"What?" I barkerd, my tone angry as usual.

"Welcome back."

unedited

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