“So?” 

Mark was very pale as I explained what had happened during my mission. Bex had taken her car to get deep cleaned (my blood had stained her seats; oops), and I had sent Donny out with the shopping list for tonight’s dinner. The two of us were alone downstairs while Florence continued to sleep in my room, my file for the mission that I had just completed spread over the coffee table in the small living room.  

“So?” I repeated myself, my irritated tone increasing in intensity, “Why didn’t they come for him, wise guy?” 

I almost felt bad for Mark; he was stuck between a rock and a very hard place. On one hand he had a boss that wouldn’t tell him anything but demanded that he run around like a little errand boy, and on the other hand, he had me.  

“U-uhm,” He swallowed hard, “Mr. Amallio and Di-director Nao are having some...issues.”  

The rage in my yellow eyes only burned brighter as he spoke. 

“Th-there was a deal, but I-I don’t know anything else about it, I swear!” 

Growling low under my breath I stood as I heard the door open, and Donny enter loudly. 

“I PICKED UP SOME EGGS TOO!” I shot a withering glare at Mark and stomped off to the kitchen. 

We started putting away the groceries in our ritual silence until all that was left was what I needed for dinner.  

Mark hadn’t followed me into the kitchen, and I was glad he was at least that smart; my temper often got the better of me when it came to Kill business. As I chopped up vegetables and seasoned the meat, I found my anger slowly fading. I put in my ear buds and pulled out my phone, letting the music feed through my brain until the events of the day were washed away by the heavy noise of my music. The outside world started to fade, and it was just me in my kitchen, my hips swaying gently as I put the chicken in the oven and stirred the veggies on the stove.  

Before I was Vik, the infamous Kill hire, my fathers had taught me to cook. I had been happy and carefree in my youthful ignorance, while the blood that paid my family bought me all the joy in the world.  

I was shaken out of my trance by a tap on my shoulder. Pulling out my ear buds and frowning, I turned around to stare at Florence with a pointed look. 

“If you’re not going to help, then get out of here,” I returned my attention to the steam rising from the pan, “It’ll be done soon.” 

“It smells good,” he sat at the table, watching me closely while I finished up and prepared to dish it out, “Do you usually cook?” 

“Yeah, otherwise these fools would all starve and die.”  

Donny, fresh out of the shower, waltzed in, kissing my cheek loudly before sitting across from Florence. 

“Hi there handsome!” Donny’s usual energy seemed to amplified ten-fold, “I’m Donny, one of this angel’s roommates.” 

Florence smiled politely and reached out a hand in salutation, “I’m Florence Amallio, pleasure to meet you.” 

The door slammed noisily and Bex, joined by some rando with an ugly-ass haircut, entered with the cool breeze, grinning when she saw me at the counter, dishing out the food.  

“Hello,” the man the clung to Bex smiled and waved, receiving a cold glare from me, “Hope it’s all right if I join y’all for the evening...” 

Bex leaned over and pecked his cheek, leading him to the table, “Of course it’s fine,” she grinned and winked at me, “If Vik can bring boys home then so can I.” 

She was so lucky I had my hands full, or I would have punched her in that pretty mouth of hers. I glanced at Florence who was already staring at me, his lips parted in surprise at Bex’s statement, and his cheeks flushed a light red.  

I set plates in front of everyone except Bex and her new boy toy, presenting them only with a smug smile as I sat down and started to ravage my chicken. Bex pouted and stood to get her own food while everyone else started to eat in silence. It was several minutes before I broke the silence to address Florence: 

“We should probably introduce ourselves,” I pointed to each of us in turn, “I’m Vik, I pay rent and cook and clean. I basically do everything around here. Like a fucked up version of Cinderella. That’s Donny, he’s gay and he’ll probably make advances...please feel free to kindly turn him down. That’s Mark, he doesn’t live here but he’s around so much that sometimes I forget he’s not a roomie. Bex is an old friend, but I have no idea who this hobbit lookin’ dude is. I have never seen him before and yet here he is eating my food.” 

Florence swallowed and smiled, “I’m Florence,” he looked at me and I nodded encouragingly, “Thanks for letting me stay for the night.” 

Bex practically threw herself across the table to grab his hands, “OMG! Your Christopher Amallio’s kid, right?!” She turned to look at me with a strange look in her eyes, “The heir to the Medici gang?!” 

Florence hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of physical contact that was being initiated between the two of them, “U-uhm yes...something like that.” 

“Bex, let go of him.” 

My tone was stern but not scolding and she released him, looking only slightly dejected as she continued looking from me to Florence. 

“He’s the heir--”  

The door slammed open, and I shut my eyes in annoyance as Alek, clearly drunk, entered the threshold with, not one, but two girls on his arm. 

“I got bitches for days!” He squinted at us, “and clearly so do you, Vikky.” 

I growled and threw my knife at him so quickly, he didn’t have time to react. It landed in the wood behind him, and the two girls shrieked, ducking like it would have done them any good.  

“You better shut up before I carve out your tongue,” I grinned and stared at him with a menacing gaze.  

He blinked twice then scurried past, dragging the girls behind him and into his room.  

I returned to my food, pausing as I brought my fork to my lips, “Oh and that’s Alek. Believe it or not, I do care about him.” 

Florence, shocked by my violent displays of affection, stared at the knife in the wall before going back to his food.  

“He’s like you.” 

I had been half asleep on the couch, the TV across from me muted while scenes of some rom com flitted across the screen. We had all gone our separate ways after dinner; Donny had whispered something to Mark, making him blush violently, so I had to assume a little “sleep over” between the two of them. Florence had started to help me clean up from dinner, but I dismissed him with a vague gesture towards the upstairs.  

“Go to sleep, Princess. I’ll make some pancakes in the morning.” 

He had smiled and gazed at me in an odd way that made my skin itch before nodding and trudging his way to my room. Bex had made a beeline to her room, her pants already halfway down her ass while her “boyfriend” tried to slip his hands up her shirt. Ew.  

“He’s like you.” 

I glanced up slowly already knowing what I would see: 

My Papa stood in the doorway, his face a bloody mask that concealed any real features. Behind him stood at least forty men and women with similarly bloody appearances; faces ragged and torn to disguise appearances, and dark clothes marked with bullet holes.  

I sighed and stood, my baggy shirt falling almost to my knees. 

“How so, Papa?” 

He didn’t respond for a moment. Then, the small crowd started to sway, their heads rolling on limp necks. One by one, they fell to the ground without so much as a sound. They went like dominos until only my Papa remained, the blood slowly dripping off of his face until his tell-tale golden eyes shimmered against the dark of the house.  

“Take care of him, Evulka.” 

Then he too swayed and fell to the floor, his body crumpling silently until there was nothing left. I held my breath, watching the spot where he had disappeared while a quiet cry left my lips.  

“Ok Papa...” 

I shot up from where I lay on the couch, panting hard as tears fell from my damp cheeks. 

“Vik?” 

The voice was vaguely familiar and, in my sleep, confused state, it took a while for me to recognize the face staring back at me with sweet concern in his eyes.  

“I’m fine, Princess. Just a dream.” 

He made a small noise and shuffled in the dark, coming closer until I could see his soft features just a few feet away. 

“C-can I sleep with you?” 

I smiled and stood shakily; he sounded more like a young child than a 23-year-old man.  

We went up the stairs and I rubbed my eyes, longing only for the comfort of my warm, cozy bed. Florence followed me like a puppy, grasping for me in the dark, and clutching my hand as I fell into the dozens of blankets that littered my queen-sized bed.  

“I don’t bite, Princess,” I grumbled into my pillow, moving over just enough for him to lay down beside me, “But try anything and I will.” 

He nodded and moved closer as I held my arms out, letting him snuggle into me. He breathed deeply, his breath tickling my collar bone, and I held him tight. In that moment, we seemed to share a single feeling; a sort of loneliness that came with weeks spent in isolation with men who only craved sex and blood. A feeling that came from eleven years of killing those who had done no harm, just to feel connected to something, anything.  

“You’re really strange,” Florence chuckled to himself, hugging me tightly, “I can’t tell if you’re some kind of angel, or a blood thirsty monster.” 

I inhaled and the scent of Donny’s sweet-smelling shampoo filtered through my brain, “Neither,” he shifted to look up at me as I ran my fingers through his hair, “I’m just a girl.” 

Florence smiled at this and settled back onto my shoulder, sighing while I stroked his head like a little kid.  

“You’re going to have to stay here for a while.”  

I don’t know what made me say it, but my Papa had warned me. And he had never been wrong.  

“Ok.” 

“Ok?” my eyebrows shot up in surprise at his nonchalant response. 

“Yes,” he sat up slightly and leaned over me, looking down into my eyes with rare sincerity, “I trust you. You saved me, Vik.” 

A strange flush crept up my neck, coloring my cheeks with heat, “It’s not that big of a deal...” 

Florence pursed his lips and swallowed, quickly kissing my cheek before he sat back up and blushed, “It was a big deal for me.”  

My mouth twitched but no sound came out, the shock of his lips against my hot face making it hard to think.  

“Are you ok?” 

“F-fine.” 

He smiled down, his gaze filled with warmth, “Can I kiss you?” 

“You did it just now without my permission, what’s stopping you this time?” 

Florence stuttered slightly, “W-well, I just—uhm—wanted to make sure it was ok.” 

I rolled my eyes, grinning involuntarily, “How chivalrous of you, Princess.” 

“So can I?” 

“Why?” 

He glared at me in mock irritation, “Just 'cause.” 

“That’s not a very good answer.” 

He paused and furrowed his brow, laying back down and resting his arm across my waist, “Why are you so nice to me?” 

I almost laughed; He was clearly forgetting about all the times I had insulted and bullied him in the past eight hours. 

“I’m not. I’m actually quite rude.” 

Florence’s breathing grew deeper, and he mumble quietly into my chest, “Thank you.”