The Story of Blood and Roses

"Get the work done, Jared, or else you have no use staying here." He hung up and turned his attention to me.

He was still the same. His features still strong, but he seemed bolder, more powerful. Now that I looked closer into his face, his gray eyes had a hint of blue in them that made him look predatory; his ashen face, lips pressed in a thin line, and the way he combed his hair made me fidget.

It might have just been a reaction to what seemed like the most important mission of my life, but I knew that there was more to this.

I was finally coming face to face with the man who killed my mother. He'd had the audacity to put her down when she was just like me: the top of her batch, the one capable of completing any mission thrown her way, the one who every other agent looked up to. But no, this scumbag had killed her. And this very fact shook me. My nervousness ran deeper than I could comprehend. I feared the man in front of me.

His jet black hair had grown lighter in shade, almost taking on a brownish hue, very different from that time nine years ago where he came before me. My eyes flickered to his lips. I remembered the wretched smile as clear as it was yesterday.

"Anthony, I am so sorry," Cienna panted, acting as if she had chased after me as I ran into the room. "I couldn't hold her back," she whined.

He raised his hand and dismissed her.

"Who might you be, miss?" His eyes burned on impact with mine. The intensity made me want to look away, but the effort was in vain.

"Mia," I replied before I could stop myself.

I realized instantly why I had blurted out my name so willingly to him. It was something beastly inside me that wanted to kill him right there in that very moment as he mulled over my name. That would be the last thought that would pass across his mind as I gently stole his life from him.

But there was another reason, I reassured myself. I knew that he wouldn't dig for information on me. First of all, he was incapable of finding anything on me; second, every agent worked under a fake name. I had just happened to choose my own as a blanket. I was delighted that this time around, I would be able to act without pretending, that I could roam about without a disguise and a fake personality to fool everyone around me. Nothing was stopping me from letting my true emotions course through my body and unleash itself as the wrath I had bottled up inside me for ages.

I knew of his keen senses. No one could penetrate his organization because he knew exactly who they were, and the only way to avoid his suspicion was to be transparent in front of him, to lay myself bare in front of his eyes so that he could find no trace of deception on me.

That wretched gaze had somehow slowly made my fear dissipate. It had turned into unwavering resolve. A trace of dark humor lurked in his eyes. He showed no signs of hiding his emotions, and it was unnerving to be capable of reading him: it made me doubt the reading I was getting off him. This open book needed a magnificent spell to unearth its secret words, and the words were a riddle, but they would be solved very soon.

"Mia. What a beautiful name!" He spun in his chair. I could see the smirk plastered on his face.

'Is he trying to infuriate me?'

"I know," my voice sounded weak and hoarse in his presence.

'Kill him. Kill him,' my inner voice chanted.

"Sit down, will you, Mia?" He gestured to the chair across from him.

I moved towards the chair, only to place my hand on the back of it. I was in no mood to sit down in front of him when he very curiously had placed his chair at a higher height than that of the guest. He didn't spare me a glance when his phone started buzzing on the phone. He picked it up in a fluid motion, pressing it to his ears he started speaking in fluent French.

I was impressed, even though there was nothing impressive about being bilingual.

He was talking about some kind of shipment. It sounded like drugs. My ears perked up in interest as I heard all about the notorious buyers who were posing problems and putting out traps for Anthony and the gang.

"Take care of it," he pushed the words out through gritted teeth. A subtle feeling traveled through my body and took residence in the pit of my stomach.

'Fuck,' I cursed myself.

I watched him with rapt attention as he pulled the phone away from his ears and started punching in a series of numbers. He spoke harshly to the person on the other side. His voice was low, exuding a roughened authority. Suddenly, his voice would rise in volume, but he would make a menacing comeback with a low growl that would send shivers down my spine.

Though his body language was fascinating to me, I didn't have much time to waste away. I needed to confirm my spot and then prepare for what comes next. And from the looks of it, I would need all the preparation in the world. His mood shifted around like a loose whip, sometimes cold, sometimes blazing.

"Hey there," I snapped in irritation. His eyes threw a similar look at me.

"Yeah, you," I told him pointedly. "You'd better listen up. I am not here to stare at your face,"

"I wouldn't mind," he smirked. I raised my eyebrows at him partly in frustration and partly in confusion.

"Well, I don't mind if you ogle all day. I was enjoying your undivided attention. I didn't want to interrupt you."

'Smart ass.'

"So fire away, Mia."

"I want to join you," I said smoothly.

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