Shadow Moon Series
Автор
Rain Itika
Прочтений
1.4M
Глав
32
Lara is a trained assassin. When she’s sent on a mission to kill millionaire Roland Catch, a man who made his fortune by exploiting child labor, she’s happy to oblige. She doesn’t expect to fail, and she definitely doesn’t expect to find out that werewolves exist, that Roland is an Alpha…and that she’s his mate. Turns out that’s only the beginning of what she doesn’t know. While Roland struggles with what do about this human woman he's bound to, Lara’s past is about to catch up to both of them.
Age Rating: 18+
Child Labor
“I have a new assignment for you.”
Lara closes her eyes, tempted to tear up the file that had been placed in front of her. Instead, she faces the man who had spoken. Bill was not only her mentor but over the years he had acted as a father figure in some ways. The company would never allow such a thing, so they had to keep the relationship a secret. “I just got back from one. Give me a break.”
Bill’s eyebrow shot up in disbelief. “Are you sure? It is a good one.”
“Fine, what is it?” She rolled her eyes and reached for the file. A picture of a man came first, followed by his details. Holding the photo, Lara couldn’t help but admire the man. He looked to be in his late twenties with blond hair and a chiseled jawline. Sadly, in the picture, he was wearing sunglasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. They were the doors to the soul, and Lara could always tell how dark someone was by looking at them. But if this guy was on The Company’s hit list, then he must have done something bad.
“Who is he?” She could easily read the information packet, but she did not feel like it. Her last assignment had been rough. The mark had fought back, stronger than most, and it had taken her by surprise, but she was here now, a clear indication of who had won.
“His name is Roland Catch. The Company is paying double for his termination.”
“And why is that?”
“Because Roland here is a millionaire whose company is using child labor to make his money.”
Now this piqued her interest. Anything bad that involved child endangerment made her blood boil. To prey on society’s most vulnerable was the worst sin in her eyes. “I will take it.” She stood up and, without waiting for his response, walked out, the folder in her hand with the monster’s picture staring up at her, his time limited.
That is how Lara found herself in the middle of a forest, surrounded only by nature. The moon peaked in the sky, not a single cloud in sight, which allowed its glow to illuminate the building before her. It was a glaring contrast to its surroundings, causing her to admire the three-story architectural wonder. The architect who designed it must have taken the surroundings into account since each line flowed into the next, as if it had grown that way.
“Maybe one day,” Lara whispered to herself. One day when she would finally have a family of her own and wouldn’t need to fight others. The sudden light from the third story pulled her back and away from her daydreaming. “Bingo.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. Edging closer to the building, she felt like a lion about to kill its prey. The leaves beneath her feet ruffled slightly, as if it were the wind blowing them around and not a person walking on them.
Thank you, ballet, she thought. If it wasn’t for those lessons, the noise might have alerted her newest assignment that she was just outside, plotting his death. Killing him would not only rid the world of scum but also make an excellent notch on her kill belt.
Moving closer to the house with a smirk plastered on her face, Lara could finally make out the details of the outside and inside of the house. The walls outside were a washed-out gray and smooth. This would make it harder for her to grasp, but luckily, each floor had a balcony, making it more accessible to jump up.
A couple of yards from the building, she stopped to calculate how she would get to the third floor. The intel said that Roland’s—a.k.a. numero uno scum’s—room was at the top, facing north.
Taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly to calm her nerves, she imagined how to get to the top level.
First, she would have to sprint up to the wall, then use the surface to push herself upward so she could grab the second-story railing, and then push off that and catch the third-level railing.
“Pft, easy breezy!” she mumbled to herself. Since she was slim and tall, she had always been better than her classmates. Faster, stronger, quieter.
It had helped her in her line of profession, but not so much in making friends.
As she imagined getting to the top one more time, Lara put her right foot behind her, bent down, and pushed away.
The light breeze brushed her hair and face as she picked up momentum and got closer to the side of the building.
When she was about to run into it, she gave a small jump, planted both feet on the wall, and, using her leg muscles, pushed herself away from it.
As she flew into the air, her hands shot out and grabbed the second-story railing. She felt the cold metal cutting into her fingers as she climbed to the top part of the railing.
Her lungs were being pushed into overdrive, but she didn’t give up. She was so close.
One more push. She tried to motivate her muscles, but deep down knew that tomorrow would be a bitch.
Looking up, she spotted the third-floor railing and mentally thanked the dead man for leaving his light on and showing her the way. Breathing in deeply one last time, she jumped up.
Her fingers wrapped around the last railing, and she let out a sigh of relief at making it. After a few deep breaths to quiet her screaming muscles, Lara pulled herself up and silently climbed over.
Relief flooded her as her feet contacted the concrete floor. She never usually had to go to these lengths to get to a mark, and she was proud of herself.
Pretending she was on stage, Lara gave a deep bow for an imaginary audience, using the seconds to stretch out her cramps.
Grabbing the mask from her back pocket, she pulled it over her sweaty face, hair clinging everywhere. She couldn’t have anyone seeing her ugly-ass self.
Tiptoeing to the door, she peeked in through the open curtains. In front of her was the biggest (and softest, she assumed) bed that man could create. Four wood posts rose up with detailed carvings—sadly, she was standing too far away to see them.
To the right of the bed was a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows with a small side table wedged between them.
Two doors were set in the left wall. One door had light peeking through the bottom and steam rolling out from underneath the crack. That was the bathroom, and where she needed to go.
Knowing where the target was now, she tried opening the door, and to her luck and amazement, it was unlocked. It would have sucked to break open this beautiful piece of architecture.
Stepping inside softly, she reached behind her again and grabbed the knife held in her pants. She gently removed it from its sheath, holding it up to the faint light emitted from the side table, admiring the precise details.
She had paid handsomely to have it custom-made, and Roland would be the lucky one to try it out for the first time. Only six inches long, but deadly in her hands.
As she crept forward, she strained her ears to listen to what was happening behind the door. The sound of rushing water informed her that he was busy showering.
That would make this a much easier kill. Most people were at their weakest when they were naked and wet.
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the door handle, counting to three in her head before she proceeded.
She was about to turn it to enter when her hand was ripped from the handle as the door swung open violently.
Her eyes met a smooth, muscled chest. And as they traveled upward, she came into contact with simmering green eyes that held anger and death in them.
