Softer Than Rough

You Stole My Prey

A blanket of white sheet covered the mass of area on cut grass. A groom, almost 6ft tall and broad, stood nervously at the altar with a young, probably 24 year old priest calming him down. An estimate of over seventy people have joined the wedding ceremony, sitting at their slightly creaky metal seats, in wait of the bride to come. No one suspected for anything to happen. Not even the groom himself. Stepping into the light of day was no other than the bride, in her glossy and prissy white wedding gown. The relatives and friends among those who waited, gasped in awe of her beauty. Two children were following her, dropping red and white flower petals. The bride's maids were in front of the children, giving those at the edge of the aisle violets. It was like a splendid show. When the bride reached the altar, she smiled with her future husband smiling back at her.

As the priest talked about vows and love, Rowan looked at the bride. She was indeed beautiful and the makeup put a nice touch to her face. He actually felt sympathy for her. She was going to lose something important today.

"Do you, Emily Rosetta Jones, take Jake to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The priest asked.

With one more look at her, Rowan slyly took out his gun. "I do—Jake? Honey?"

Rowan slid his gun back in his belt and narrowed his eyes as the groom stepped back. A mass of blood splayed on his back; ahuge circle surrounding a hole that was created. No sound was made from the shot. A silencer. Rowan thought and he immediately stood up as the bride and relatives screamed. He scanned the area and saw someone slip out. Most probably an assassin. Hurrying after the murderer, Rowan casually walked out of the tent. He saw a lock of black hair, disappearing into the woods. He ran after this mysterious person, hoping to get an answer for killing his prey.

A mutter was heard in the distance so Rowan hid behind a tree, getting as close as he could to the voice. He peeked his head out a little to see the back of a girl's head. Black hair, pale skin that almost looked camouflageable against her white summer dress. She obviously wasn't dressed for the wedding but he wasn't convinced. She was talking in a low voice on the phone and he could spot a couple of scars on her arm.

"I killed him, sir. Jake Camp." With newly found evidence, Rowan stepped out of the shadow of the tree he hid behind and made a snapping sound as he stomped on some sticks.

The girl whipped her whole body around in shock. And because of that, Rowan froze, looking at her memorisable sparking blue eyes. They looked deadly and electrifying, which made Rowan want to touch her. To feel the thrill of what would happen.

"What are you doing here?" The girl asked, suddenly bringing him back to Earth.

Rowan spotted that she was reaching for her back, probably for a hidden gun. She was smart but not sly. "I should be asking you the same thing." He said and whipped out his gun. "I know what you did and you obviously know me."

The girl looked at his gun then narrowed her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He scoffed, clicking the safety lock off. "Please. You killed Jake Camp. You killed my prey. I'm just wondering why. Why would you do something like that?"

The girl crossed her arms, smirking. "I'm sorry, 014, but you can't claim your targets."

"So you do know me?" Rowan was unsteady of her knowing his agent name.

She laughed. "Of course I know you. You're one of France's best spies, are you not? Rowan Richardson. Age 24. Known to be a womanizer…" Her eyes narrowed at him. "And someone that I'd naturally loathe."

This girl was good. Too good. Probably from an American ethnicity, judging her accent and looks. Rowan had to be careful. She had weapons. She probably had people in the woods, just waiting on her signal to attack him. A gulp at the throat, he slid his gun back in his belt.

"Why take my prey?" He asked, wary of her.

Rowan was careful. He knew women and how deceiving they could be. Just one word could make you swoon. They could wrap you around their small little fingers in just one night's worth of effortless work. But this girl- no, this woman was different. She looked like she didn't have an interest in him, just his profession and reputation.

"You're a French spy, allied with the British intelligence's FBI head, Archie Craig." The girl replied. "You've intervened with our plans for many years as well, so, I've come to stop you. Go die in hell, Richardson!"

With quick reflexes, Rowan took a step to the side as a knife scratched the shoulder of his blazer. He bit his lip and took out his gun, about to shoot her—

"Arrrgh!" He shouted as his dropped his gun.

Blood dripped. The red liquid sliding down from a knife that was stabbed into his hand to his fingertips. She threw it at him. Both knives had a good aim. No doubt was she a good sniper; it was amusing and he smiled. This was the type of thrill he was looking for. Been 4 years since his body was surged his alkaline, maybe the blood rush fused him up.

In a heartbeat, Rowan pulled out the knife and threw it away, a slight smile creeping up on his lips. "No guns and knives." He said.

The girl scoffed and held her fists out in front of her in a fighting stance. "Obviously. Military weapons are so overrated."

A laugh rolled out of his mouth as he got into position. At the same time, they both sidestepped in a circle, eyes narrowed with concentration. Rowan smirking with interest and the girl gritting her teeth in distaste. Only the sounds of rustling leaves and birds chirping in the distance were heard before the launched at each other. Their own legs and arms clashing and small groans of pain escaping in between their gritting teeth. The intensity of the close combat duel was swift and long.

Rowan tried for his round-a-house kick at her head, but he underestimated the ground, which ended with him slipping on wet leaves. He landed back first onto the terrain, however, his head slammed onto the ground anyway. His mind became fuzzy and he cursed under his breath, about being a lousy spy. In his vision, the girl stood above him, her vibrant blue eyes gazing down. She seemed to be enjoying her victory. He knew. He noticed the same smirk, one that she pulled just then, on his face a couple weeks back, when he had accomplished with killing a terrorist before an explosion occurred.

The girl, having such a big ego at the moment, crouched down on top of him with a blade she pulled out from her boots. The shining silver knife lay above his Adam's apple, just about scratching the tiny hairs of his slight stubble under his chin. Although the American agent was sitting above him, her weight felt like nothing but a bag with a laptop stuffed inside it. The theory was quite reasonable since her every move was a lightweight, somewhat similar to astronauts walking on the moon.

After dragging the sharp blade from his chin to his collarbone, the girl opened her mouth. "I can kill you right here, right now." She said, almost as if she's thrilled to see it happen.

Though the threat meant nothing to Rowan. He's been in a situation like this several times. He wasn't going to panic or plead her for mercy. "Then do it. No one's stopping you."

The girl, not pleased with his answer, sighed. "That's the problem. No one's stopping me and it's boring the hell out of me. I'm not even ordered to kill you and yet I really want to."

"What does that have to do with me—actually, listen. If you're not going to kill me, get off me. I have better things to be doing than hear your sob stories and threats." He growled, already giving up on even trying to at least persuade her.

Truth be told, he wasn't going to kill her. He had a licence to kill, but he was only allowed to draw blood if he was ordered to. Shit like this was going to get him into deep trouble and he'd rather stay out of it than get involved.

The girl had other plans, tutting and shaking her head. "You listen to me, Richardson." She leaned down and whispered into his ear. He could have been aroused by it, considering she, even though he doesn't want to admit, was 'hot', he was in deep, deep, deep, shit. "I'm bored as fuck. This little 'fight' that we engaged in, was quite…exhilarating and I don't intend on letting you die to have me rot with boredom."

Rowan narrowed his eyes, thinking of what she might possibly be up to. "I don't understand what you're trying to say."

A smirk grew on her face, a different smirk. One that layered over her victory smirk. A mischievous one. Then she light tapped his chest, getting up to her feet. "I'll see you around soon, Richardson. And remember, I'm tracking your every move. Step on my land and intervene, kill my people, I'll bring out the landmines."

With little effort, Rowan raised a brow. "Americans are very civilized, aren't they?"

This time, the girl gave a wicked smirk. "No, it's just me."

Before he could say more, she dashed into the wood, passing through as many trees as possible. And soon, she was out of sight…and out of mind. Rowan was left to lie on the ground, taking his time to process. Then, with a grunt, he got up, feeling the pain in his back and head. He had bruises all over but it wasn't really what distracted him. He needed to know who the American was. Why she was after him, and obviously, to kill her…with permission of course.

Please wait for the second, also known as the last, chapter of the two-shot.

Impatient to know what happens between Lani and Rowan?

Too bad you gotta wait!