Astrid Knight was the definition of cold. Preferring to stay in shadows, she had managed to successfully avoid any life-threatening incidents.
Fending for herself was hard when she was a minor, forcing her to work on the other side of the law.
After...
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—A S T R I D—
"FASTER!" MARCUS HAD ENCOURAGED ASTRID. Astrid ducked and dodged the supposedly harmless kick.
"Good." Marcus panted, his voice breaking in between the harsh intakes of breathe.
Self-defense was something Astrid had hated with a freaking passion. And Marcus making her do it nearly every day was just annoying.
Astrid threw a punch towards her father's abdomen. Marcus caught it, hooked his ankle with hers and swept her off the ground.
Every. Freaking. Time.
This has been happening for the past... bazillion times.
Astrid groaned in pain, her sides and hip bones aching. "Is this really necessary?"
Marcus was tall, way too tall for Astrid five-foot-height. His lean shoulders, his lithe build— he looked nothing out of ordinary. There wasn't anything particularly noticeable to him. But when it came to hand-to-hand combat, he was the best. His speed, his strength, and this lithe build allowed him fight with the grace of ballet dancer. His hazel eyes blazed with something that Astrid had never been able to point out. His crew cut hair didn't reach past his hairline, as if he was afraid the lock of hair would distract him if it ever came to a fight.
Marcus just smiled in amusement, gave her a hand to help her up and said, "What if a thief came in and you don't know what to do?"
The thief never came.
And Marcus' death left Astrid wondering when a thief would come, but instead Marina had came.
The self defense proved useless in front of assault rifles, and Astrid's sanity hung on a thread, that she knew would snap soon.
__
Astrid should've been gasping, she shouldn't be able to breathe. Her body should be trembling, or spasming, she didn't know.
Marcus was Azrael. Marcus was Azrael. Marcus was Azrael. Marcus was Azrael.
She'd been hired to kill him. To make sure he'd surely be six feet under the ground. She—
Why didn't she panic? She should've been panicking and she should have blamed Marcus for not helping her when he could. She should at least be angry, if not hurting.
Why did he choose the Agency over her— over Aria?
He was the one who stole from Marina? And if he was, why did he steal it? Was it the mere spite to rebel or was he stopping her from doing something?
