The Scarlet Assassin

Chapter Three

There was a whooshing sound as a figure swept into my office from the window. Just from the way the man stood, I knew exactly who it was before they spoke, and from the urgency in their stance, I knew exactly what they wanted to talk about. My head didn't look up from the small book I had opened on my lap, but my hand still twitched to my small blade in the sheath on my thigh.

In the small candlelight that sat beside me, providing the little light needed, I saw the figure drop the hood from his head. He was breathing heavily, sweat beads lining his forehead and slicking up his dark hair.

"Are you going to speak or are you just going to stand there and admire me all night?" I asked nonchalantly, turning the page and skimming the words. The man shifted.

"We have a problem," Rafe finally bit out. I paused, let out a heaving sigh and set my book down on the oak table, making sure to make a mental note of my place. I rose from my battered chair and walked to my cabinet on the side of the room, opening my drawer full of knives.

"Put the corpse on ice. I'll be there in a second." Rafe's face scrunched. He scoffed.

"What? No, it's not-. Why-. Why would I-?" I slammed my drawer shut and leaned against the counter. My back was still to him. They haven't killed anybody yet. Shocking.

"You mean to tell me that you disturbed my peaceful night time reading and there isn't a body?" There was a small silence, followed by a small incredulous sigh.

"No, psycho, there isn't a body. Yet. Well there will be a body if you don't come." I looked up, debating this for a few seconds before shifting my weight.

"Fine. I guess I have the time to spare, but next time, there better be a body before I'm summoned. I was getting to a good part." I turned and walked through the archway leading to a sitting area which doubled as sometimes my sleeping quarters and war room. Then, I opened the door to my office, unlatching the many locks first and stepped out onto the landing.

When I looked down, I saw Draven- leader of the Blood Wolves- entering my bar. At his side was Lysander and Otis- his right hand man and infamous, merciless tourturer. Per usual, the clad of reckless imbeciles were right on time.

The noise around them instantly dimmed as people recognized them and the crowd split in two to let them pass. My hand clutched the banister, and my eyes raged. I made a few hand signals behind my back, and in an instant, Rafe was gone.

"Either you're lost or you're mad," I said over the remaining whispers, my voice echoing through my den. Draven's head snapped up at my voice. His lips tightened into a thin line.

"So, you're back." I tilted my chin up, still staring down my nose at them.

"It seems so." There was a pause followed by an uncanny silence. "What are you doing in Viper territory? Do you have a death wish, because I assure you, I can grant you that." Draven glanced at my men closing in on them, hands brushing the hilts of their daggers. Otis and Lysander both swept their coats back, revealing identical weapons, and of course, Oti's twin axes.

He looked back up at me. "I just came to talk." My eyes narrowed.

"Interesting," I said with a half smile. Draven's brows creased.

"Interesting?"

"Yes, interesting." I paused. "I didn't think you were capable of stringing together two words, not to mention a whole conversation." His eyes twitched.

"Tch, just because I came in peace does not mean I won't hesitate to put my knife in your gut." I looked at all the uneasy faces, watched people inch toward the door. They think you're going soft. Rafe's words played in my head. Another surge of rage coursed through me. They had strode into my den, my business, without a speck of fear on their faces.