1.

Sneaking out of Blackthorne is dangerous. That's why I liked it so much. I loved the rush I got when the security lights came only inches from catching me. I loved the feeling of accomplishment that I got when I finally passed the gates and started the hike. I loved cutting through the woods to get to the small town.

I loved forgetting that I was an assassin-in-training.

Wouldn't you?

Let me answer that for you: yes, you would. There's something oddly terrifying about knowing that you can kill someone with your bare hands easier than most people can walk. It's horrible to have dreams about the people you've killed. It sucks to know what you're going to be hired to do for a permanent job after school; what you're already occasionally being hired for.

I knew what kind of life I had signed up for by attending Blackthorne. My parents had both been spies, but they had abandoned me. My mom had died right before I had been sent away to Blackthorne. My dad never contacted me; he was too busy with his own job. As an assassin.

I hated looking like him, with my tan skin, bronze hair, and blue eyes. I was about 5'11 and all muscle from my training. I may look like a Greek god, but I've never felt like one a day in my life. Sure, all the girls in town swoon over me when I come in, but it never makes me feel good. In fact, I don't even pay attention to those girls. What would they have to offer me?

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a one-night stand kind of guy.

I made my way into the diner that the small town had and sat at a booth, looking out the window that overlooked a dark alley. I liked the darkness. Something about the way it seemed to envelope me comforted me, made me feel alive and strong. Assassins kill in the dark for two reasons: less witnesses and assassins tend to stick to the dark in any case. No one really knows why, although Dr. Steve has a crazy theory that Jonas has been helping him with.

"Can I get you something to drink?" a waitress with thick brunette hair and too much makeup asked. She was giving me a smile that told me she was definitely interested. And if the smile wasn't enough of a clue, she was batting her eyelashes like crazy. I hated when girls did that. Did they not understand that it just made it look like they had something in their eyes?

"Coffee," I requested.

"Anything to eat?" she asked, batting her eyelashes some more.

"No, I'm not hungry," I said as politely as I could. We had a teacher at Blackthorne whose job it was to turn us into "respectable young men". Apparently, assassins needed manners.

"Is there anything I can get you?" she asked, leaning her hip on the table.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm fine, thanks; just the coffee. And if you could bring it in a to-go cup and bring the bill, that'd be great."

"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed. "Okay; I'll bring it right out."

I rolled my eyes when she turned away. She had to be at least twenty-one and I was only seventeen. And she was clearly a slut. I mean, she had been wearing an engagement ring, after all.

She brought my coffee and I muttered my thanks before adding one cream and three sugars. I stirred it and then took a drink, feeling the warmth course through me. I took a few more drinks and let my mind wander. When my cup was almost empty, the waitress came back with the bill and I gave her a five, telling her to keep the change. My dad may not keep in touch with me, but he wired a certain amount of money to my account each week. She re-filled my coffee cup and left.

I had just turned my attention to the window when I saw her. She was no more than five feet tall, with thin blond hair that went to an inch past her shoulders. She had a petite, yet undeniably muscled body type and she wore jeans and a hoodie. She looked to be in a hurry to get home and I didn't blame her; the wind outside was biting cold.

Suddenly, four guys that were clearly drunk came out of the shadows, surrounding the girl before she could process what was going on. One of the guys approached her and she tried to back away, but he grabbed her.

Not her was all I could think as I stood from my table, not even bothering to grab my coffee. I ran into the alley as fast as my feet would take me and I heard the girl cry, "Stop!"

The guys' laughter lurched me forward. "Leave her alone!"

They all turned to look at me, sneers on their ugly faces. The guy that had a hold on the girl's arms –and clearly the leader- said, "And what are you gonna do if we don't, pretty boy?"

My hands clenched themselves into fists and I felt my mind prepare itself for a fight. A fight that I wouldn't lose. "Let her go," I said through gritted teeth.

They laughed again and the leader said, "Jett, Gus, teach him a little respect."

Jett and Gus were knocked out within five seconds. The other guy came at me and I knocked him out, too. The leader lunged forward and I broke his nose before giving him peace by knocking him out. The pervert deserved it.

"Are you okay?" I asked the girl.

She stood, frozen, only a couple of feet away from me. Her eyes, I could now see, were a luminous green. Absolutely beautiful. Wait….did I just seriously think that? Yes, yes I did.

When she spoke, her voice was so soft that I could barely hear it. "Thank you."

"Anytime," I replied, and I meant it.

She gestured to one of the guys that I had just knocked out. "They're always drunk. They've been after me for a while."

I nodded slowly, "Maybe you should get a restraining order."

A smile played at her pale pink lips. "Maybe I should. That was some pretty impressive fighting, by the way. Are you a black belt?"

"Something like that."

She didn't press it. "Well, thanks, again. So much."

I smiled. "You're welcome."

She took a step closer and then hesitated. But why? Then, she said, "How 'bout I buy you some food or something?"

Like a date? No, stupid. She just wants to thank you. "That's not necessary."

"I know," she smiled. "But I feel like I know you. No telling what would've happened if you hadn't stepped in." She shuddered. Then she studied me closely. "I don't think I've ever seen you around here."

"I'm visiting," I said. "My name's Grant."

"I'm Katie," she said with a sweet smile. "Come on, I'll get you something to eat. But do you mind if we don't go here?" she gestured to the diner I had just been in. "I'm not too crazy about it."

Thank you. "That's fine."

She stepped over the unconscious bodies and I followed her through the streets. She led me into a small café and we sat down in a corner booth. We both ordered soup and coffee and when the waiter (thank God it wasn't a waitress) left, I said, "What are you doing out so late?"

"I could ask you the same question," she said with a smile. "I was at the library."

"So you're a smart girl?"

"Maybe," she said, playing with a packet of sugar.

"Maybe?" I raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?" she asked, raising an eyebrow of her own as a challenge.

Behind her, I could hear the young couple talking in French and I could pick out every word that they were saying. I could name the license plate numbers of all five cars outside. I could tell you that the waiter was recently divorced.

Katie saw me getting lost in thought. "Grant?"

I looked into her eyes.

She gave an amused smile. "You're not like other guys, are you?"

Did I mention I'm an assassin?