𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀; ❝ just because i'm a woman doesn't mean i still can't kick your fucking ass. ❞
in which a boy and a girl are
forced to come together in
order to defeat a common enemy
𝗢𝗥
where two heartless assassins
learn how to love again...
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†
HIS BODY WAS WEAK. EYES HEAVY, SOUL exhausted, it took everything he had to continue moving. With his hope bloodied and spirit bruised, he choked on a weak laugh. His back rested against the jagged wall of the alley way as he slowly slid down the rough surface, tired of fighting; tired of running. His head dropped and he coughed blood into his hands. He struggled to take a breath before his eyes found hers.
There was a strange light in his eyes, one that settled uncomfortably within Athena. It was almost as if he was still expecting her to stop, expecting her to realise that what she was doing wasn't necessary. It probably wasn't. Well, not to this extent anyway; she just enjoyed doing it.
They'd been at this for hours now, this whole cat and mouse act. She'd located him in a bar on Sixth two hours ago and stalked him in the shadows as he wandered from building to building, bar to bar, careless and utterly oblivious to the cat perched on the roof tops, licking her lips. She'd been silent and concealed, choosing precise moments when she'd allowed him to catch glimpses of her. The flick of her hair, the shift of her clothing, the glint of her smile—only enough to materialise the growing fear in his gut.
Oh, how she loved playing this game. Only when her prey became utterly terrified, fear wrapping around their throat, clawing down their spine, did she truly feel alive. So, the moment his palms began to sweat and the hair on the back of his neck stand, did she finally reveal herself. She'd purred—purred—as she stepped out of the shadows, snickering with a grin so wicked that it made dying seem like a luxury.
He ran slow for an man being preyed upon. So much so that the assassin had to slow down her nimble steps upon rooftops to allow a steady distance between them. To allow him to believe he had a chance in escaping. But then he rounded into a dead end and fucked everything up.
Staring into his eyes now—a stunning shade of midnight blue—at the light shinning behind glazed tears, it told Athena one thing: he genuinely believed she would show mercy.
She obviously hadn't broken him enough yet.
A dark ring circled his left eye, inking his pale skin a shade of purple-black. She remembered what it felt like when she delivered it; the sudden rush of adrenaline through her veins, burning like wild fire. It was the first battle scar she gave him; the first she'd given to anyone in a couple of days. So when her fist collided the first time and the sparks ignited inside her, she couldn't stop herself from delivering more.
More bruises peppered his skin, some more visible than others. His knuckles were bloodied and darkened with the oncoming bruise he received when his fist collided with the stone wall. The punch was originally aimed at the assassin's head but his slow and sloppy movements allowed her to swiftly avoid it. A line of blood trailed from his broken nose, a repercussion Athena herself took great pleasure in delivering when his first attempt to inflict pain on her failed miserably.
