Chapter 2

My captor dragged me farther and farther into the “safe” house—I was starting to think that it wasn’t all that safe. I thrashed from side to side and reached for a knife but the hand that held me was firm. I swung out of his grip and flicked a lightswitch on. I saw his face and immediately slapped him across the face, hard. 

“Zayne, you shit!” I screamed, “You absolute shit!” 

Zayne just smiled sweetly, his brown eyes stared into mine, and his soft dirty blonde hair that was combed down. He had to look down at me because he was 5’11, and my short ass 5’3 self was nothing in comparison. He grabbed my arm slightly, revealing his number, 192. I sighed and he followed my gaze and saw me staring at it.

“Nova…” I felt myself smile at the sound of my nickname. No one had called me that in years. Zayne noticed my look and smiled softly. 

“When I got a few days off, I thought I’d come and visit my favorite sister.” 

“You really need to stop calling yourself that. We are not related. We have the same hair, but that's it,” I rolled my eyes playfully. 

“Oh, shush, you're my favorite fake sister,” He wrapped me into a hug and I started to squirm, trying to get out of his grasp.

“You are lucky I couldn’t make it to my knife when you grabbed me.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t stab me, would you?” 

“Of course I would. You pulled me into a dark house and I had no clue who you were!”

“Fair enough. Are you hungry?” I looked at him, my stomach rumbling. 

I hadn’t eaten much at all, all I ate was a bite of a granola bar, and I had left the rest of that on the plane. Otherwise I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. I think Zayne saw that in my gaze.

“Oh Nova…You need to eat, come on let’s go to the kitchen,” He grabbed my hand softly. 

His hands were covered in calluses but he was careful to make sure he never hurt me. He walked forwards and I had to hold my hand up slightly because of our height difference. I followed him closely, he was always like an older brother to me, especially when we were training before we got sent out on missions. He had always been there for me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. 

It was rare to see people of our line of work let their guard down like this, we were trained to never show our emotions, and never let anyone in, but at the end of the day we are human. He led me into the kitchen, let go of my hand, and opened the fridge. He started to dig through it, looking for something. He ended up pulling out a leftover pizza. It was ham and pineapple, I hated pineapple,but I wasn't going to complain, I was starving.

“Is this okay?” 

I nodded. My mouth was watering just by looking at it. I hadn't realized it before he started to talk about food but I was hungry. So hungry. He slid the pizza into the oven and turned back to me. 

“Do you want to tell me what you’ve been doing over the past few months?” Months? Had it been actual months since the last time I saw him? That can’t be right, there’s no way. He seemed to have read my thoughts,

“So how's work been?” 

I know he just wanted to start up a conversation, but I really didn't want to think about work right now. It was the last thing I wanted to think about. He seemed to recognize the look on my face because he quickly changed the subject. 

“The pizza won't be ready for around ten minutes. You should go set your backpack down. The bedrooms are upstairs,” I nodded, thanking him for not pushing anything. 

I turned around and walked out of the kitchen. As I ambled down the hallway I noticed the amount of art all over the walls. All of them cheap, ugly, and lifeless. Mostly landscapes, trees, sunsets, but there was every once in a while a painting of an animal of some sort. Not that an assassination organization invests the most into their employees mental well being, but these ugly paintings were a crude and insulting effort.

 A few parrots, a rhino and a tiger were among some that I spotted. As I walked past the entryway I saw a majestic spiraling staircase and started to climb it. It was made of dark old oak, the color was one of the richest colors I’d ever seen, and was perfectly in tune against the white painted walls of the house. 

As I climbed up the last stair I spotted two doors. I opened the first one and walked into a bedroom. The room's walls were a soft baby blue. It was almost entirely empty other than a small wooden bookshelf, a full sized bed, an old cedar dresser and a desk. 

I set my backpack down next to the bed and sat down. The bed dipped slightly, the mattress was plush, the comforter and pillows matched the walls. I let out a soft sigh and I slid off my shoes. The laces were covered in dust and sand from the desert. I heard footsteps approaching and by the softness of the step and the slight limp on one of the beats I knew it was Zayne. 

“Hey Nova…” His voice was steady and calm, his tone was the sort of tone that your parents use when they see you crying .

“I’m not a kid, Zayne. Don’t treat me like one,” I mumbled.

“I’m not treating you like a kid Nova. You are two years younger than me. I just want to protect you.”

“Well you don't need to! I can take care of myself,” I hissed.

“Nova, please,” Zayne begged. 

I sighed. I didn’t mean to hurt him. He was like an older brother to me, of course he was going to be protective over me, that was part of his fucking job. 

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. 

We had known each other for long enough that he knew exactly what I was apologizing for. 

“It's alright. The food is ready, come down when you’re ready.” He walked out of the room and I listened as his footsteps went down the hall, down the stairs until I couldn't hear him anymore. 

I followed him and walked into the kitchen. The smell of the pizza was overwhelming, and it made my stomach growl even more than it already was. I sat down at the table and Zayne handed me a plate. 

“Thanks,” I mumbled, my voice barely audible, Zayne paused, looking at me. He looked conflicted.

“Nova,” he sat up, like he was about to lecture me on something. 

“I was wondering,” He paused for a second and then continued, “You never really liked working like this right? Killing people like this, moving from place to place all the time, all the training…” 

What was he trying to say? That there was a way out of here? But there wasn't. Not alive. I blocked out anything he was trying to get past me.

“Whatever you are trying to get to, no. I don’t want to be a part of this. Okay?” I took the piece of pizza off the plate, holding it between my thumb, index and ring finger. 

As the pizza entered my mouth the taste of the perfect balance between bread, tomato sauce, pineapple, cheese, and ham. The pineapple dampened the experience, but I was hungry enough not to care. My eyes watered, I needed that, the food seemed to melt on my tongue. I ate the rest of the piece fast but slow enough to enjoy it. Zayne sat there, looking conflicted, as he stared at his pizza on his plate. 

“Nova-” He started but before he could get anything out other than my name I had interrupted him. 

“No. I don’t want to talk about this. When they hear about this, and they will—they always do— I want to say I wasn’t a part of this.” My voice was firm, in a way I never used around Zayne, and he knew it was time to back off. 

“Okay. Please eat a little more, you look like you’re starving,” Zayne sighed. 

At his insistence I took another piece of the pizza, staring at the pineapple and ham that thoroughly covered my plate. I picked it up and took a bite. I ended up eating this piece faster than the last one I had. 

After I had eaten my fair share of food I got up and started to head towards the sink. I found a blue sponge on the side of the sink and picked it up. I scanned the countertop and found a bottle of soap on the other side of the sink and took it, squeezing the soap onto the sponge. I started to scrub the plate intensely, slowly scraping all the grease off of it. 

After I finished, I put the sponge to the side and used the sink faucet to clean the soap off of the plate, making the white of the plate sparkle in the light. There was a towel right next to the sink and I put the wet plate on it so it would dry. 

After I had finished, I quickly walked out of the kitchen and practicality ran up the stairs, my hair started to fall in my face and I batted at it, trying to get it out of my face as I climbed up the last step and into the hallway. I swung the door to the bedroom open and the sharp click of the door locking door followed me as I closed it.

 I sat down onto the bed with a sigh. I spotted that one of the drawers of my wardrobe had opened a crack, which raised my suspicion. I sat up, hand hovering over the gun holstered in my belt. I slowly stalked towards it, my gun now out of its holster and resting in my hand. The ominous click of my finger sliding over the safety lock and sliding it off echoed throughout the room. 

I paused a few feet away from the drawer and slid my hand to the edge, yanking it out with such force that the entire drawer flew off its hinges and slid across the floor. My hand that was holding the gun followed the drawer and its descent and my finger slid across the trigger, in mid firing. Once I saw what was actually in the drawer I dropped the gun back to my side and rolled my eyes.

Written by- that unkown writer

Published by- powerful like a girl