The Angel of Death

Part 1 (Prologue)

Prologue:

"Here," the woman, with raven black hair, that was cut to the shoulders, held out a photo in front of his face. He carefully studied it, taking in the features. It was a picture of a girl with long brown hair that encircled her face. Big brown eyes were looking confusingly around in the moment of the taken picture.

"This girl is the one you are going to find ... and eventually kill." The woman looked at him with serious eyes while she was talking. He looked up at her as he sat down on the chair, leaning back against it. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" he questioned as he stared into her eyes.

"You don't need a reason why," she answered him. "You just kill the person I tell you to kill. No discussion. You know how it usually goes."

She stared back at him, annoyed by his stupid question. She huffed, looking away.

"Remember to cover your tracks," she reminded him as she turned around, about to leave the room. "Oh, and just one last thing," she looked at him once again. "Don't forget what I told you. Get the information I want and then end it."

With that, she walked through the door, and out of the dark room. He sat there, left behind, holding up the picture. He studied the girl once again, remembering her looks.

He sighed.

He was getting tired of the woman controlling his life. She told him what to do and he did it, no exceptions. She used him like he was no other than a killer-machine. But maybe he wasn't anything else, he thought. He had reached to that point where he couldn't count the dead bodies anymore. He lost track a long time ago.

He felt shameful and lost, but there was nothing he could do. He was caught up in this endless game of death and he was nothing but a monster, even though he was too handsome to be.

At least that was what the woman said. She claimed him to be hers. She had done that for a long time now.

He was her Angel of Death.