Dig Up His Bones
Hayden wonders in a brief moment whether she'll die. She knows she won't because she's been trained for this. Trained to get out of any situation by any means necessary. Ever since the day she became Hayden Romero.
Hayden's just an alias of course, but it's one she likes, a part of something she can hold onto from her past life - before she became this.
Quietly, she slinks out from the cover of darkness, her slender toned leg peeking out from the slit in her dress, her hair curled in ringlets up top her head, fingers perfectly manicured to sharp points. She glides gracefully down the marble steps, never taking her eyes off of her mission.
One more. One more and then we can finally be free, Valerie's voice whispers in her mind. She pushes it aside because she needs to focus. Focus.
She catches the eye of a waiter and beckons him forward, accepting a thin frosted glass of champagne, even though her orders are not to inhale any unknown substance without approval.
Fuck that. She knows she needs to blend in.
She curtsies to several Prime Ministers and Presidents of several other countries out of respect, acknowledging them as they smile politely back. The Gala continues smoothly without a trouble in sight. And she's glad. Because now she can finish her mission. She finally sees him, dressed formally in a black tuxedo, hair carefully styled back, large hands firmly shaking others.
Belasko appears on time, holding his arm out to her, linking them together as they begin a waltz near the target and his wife. She fights the urge to smack the crooked grin off of his face and she glares at him, pointedly. Finally, he bends down to ear level and whispers, "Eight O'Clock. Be ready or else."
She jerks her head back as if he burned her. Change of plans then because the clock ticks closer with each second to her doom. Now, she's going to improvise. "Hit me," she hisses quickly through clenched teeth. He stares back with an incredulous look on his face even though they both know Belasko isn't condoned to hitting girls. He sighs, rolls his eyes, shoves her back, raises his -
SMACK!
Hayden bursts into tears right on cue, falling to the floor. Several cries of outrage echo the large room, in disbelief at what they have just seen - in front of the target, nonetheless. What a scandal as Belasko spits out "Bitch!" without so much of an apology when he storms off. Hands gently bend to help her to her feet as she sobs for good measure. Anything to get the good ol' target alone. She has to sell all that's she's worth. Hayden's never been a good actress but it seems to buy time and company when she needs it. And now, she needs it.
"Are you all right, Miss?"
She waves her hand dismissively until she finally looks up. "I'm fine - Oh!" She feigns surprise and shock as she accepts her target's hand, stumbling to her feet as she tries to smooth out her hair and dress. "I'm- I'm so sorry, sir! It was just a misunderstanding-"
She forces a fake smile to show her hurt and uneasiness. Her target shares a wary look with his wife as they come to a mutual understanding.
"Does your father hit you a lot?"
"No!" She blurts out because A) Belasko, you told them you were my father?! and B) what the fuck? and C) she needs to pretend that she's vulnerable and D) has a abusive father. You owe me for this, Belasko. "It - It was just a misunderstanding . . ."
She trails off and sees that her lie has not gone unnoticed. She rubs frantically at the tears running out of her tear ducts and hugs her arms and hands to her body. "I just wanted to go to the party . . ."
"Honey, would you take . . ."
"Heather," she supplies, sprouting a random name from the top of her head.
"Heather here upstairs? Just tell the guards that her father is General Belasko."
The fair-skinned brunette offers a warm, comforting smile to Hayden as she leads the young woman upstairs. Tick. Tock. Tick . . . Tock.
Time's running out and quickly. Hurry up! she berates herself angrily. It would be so tempting to kill him right here and now, but her organization has the one law to never kill in public. They don't need to draw any more attention to themselves after what happened last time. The wife leaves Hayden to her thoughts as she rejoins her husband downstairs. Hayden is in awe of how beautiful and grand the room is, soaking it all in because she knows this will be the last time she'll be allowed in.
The roar of the crowd downstairs travels to Hayden's ears, which is followed shortly by a round of applause. Time to get ready. She reaches in between her breasts and pulls out a thin, but yet undetectable dagger (and come on, who would think of looking there in the first place?), unsheathing it, running the silver blade over her thin fingertips. Footsteps pad in the hallway outside as she listens, long and heavy. She knows it's him, coming to check on her.
And she can't let him finish his speech.
She darts behind the door just as it opens, gripping the knife in her hand. She leaps on top of the target, shoving a white cloth in his mouth so that all that comes out is a muffled scream. Hayden pushes the door shut with her toes before any guards on patrol can scream; he struggles as she tightens his wrists with one hand. There's no monologues, no savoring the kill; she just yanks his head back and draws a bright red line across his throat.
Well, damn. She would think this man would've put up more of a fight. She retrieves the white cloth from his mouth, placing it by his head. Hayden does not worry about fingerprints or leaving hair follicles behind; she doesn't exist. She's invisible and is just another ordinary face in the crowd. She takes out her phone, snapping a quick pic for confirmation, dialing a very familiar number. Immediately, the line picks up.
"It's done."
And no sooner when the words leave her mouth and the call ends, the door opens. Bright blue eyes meet hers and every blood, bone, muscle in her body freezes, because she's never been caught. Not ever. And now, the President's son has walked in on her at a very untimely moment.
"Hey, Dad. I was wondering-" Liam Dunbar stops in his place, looking up from the smartphone in his hand. His eyes survey the scene in front of him, eyebrows curving in disbelief: his father - the President of United States of America lying on the floor of the Oval Office with his throat slit, with a Hispanic girl wearing a red dress kneeling next to him, with a knife held in her hand, blood dripping on it.
Hayden immediately straightens, ready to attack him because the rule is don't leave any witnesses, but something stops her and she can't bring herself to do it. The world doesn't need two members of the Presidential Family dead on the same night. So, Hayden decides, I'll wait. Lessen the blow and kill him when everybody lets their guard down.
She dashes to the window, unlatching it and before she can jump out, he speaks. The television doesn't do his voice justice. It's deeper than the clips used from when he was sixteen.
She turns, frowning, because she expects him to start screaming. But he doesn't. All he does is smile at her.
He fucking smiles.
What the actual fuck? What. the. FUCK.
"Thank you," he begins, hand on the doorknob. "Glad someone did it before I could. Ten minutes. That's all I'll give you." The last part is a low stage-whisper meant for her and she is so befuddled, because the President's son just congratulated her on killing his father.
Again, what the actual fuck?
The door clicks shut and Hayden lingers on the window for a split second before she snaps back to reality. She curls her hand into a fist and smashes the glass, spraying it inwards, spilling it over the carpet. She tears her dress, leaving shreds all over the place with some snippets of her hair, and pints of blood (don't even ask.) Hayden drags her nails out the window, making it look like she was dragged out and fought for her life. Satisfied with her work, Hayden leaves, slipping past the guards and Secret Service on duty and runs underneath the cover of darkness. There, a waiting car idles and Hayden slides into the passenger seat.
"Ready?" Valerie asks, smiling. So oblivious to what has happened, only knowing that Hayden finished the job and now, they're free to do whatever they want.
Hayden nods, unable to speak, replaying that last scenario in her head. Where did she go wrong? The President's son has seen her and congratulations were in order. She can't wrap her head around it. It doesn't make any sense. True to his word after ten minutes, alarms begin to blare and soon the world descends into chaos.
But Hayden knows her job isn't over.
Now her next mission is to kill Liam Dunbar.
Don't know if I'll finish this because it was supposed to be a collab with vengefuldarling on Tumblr but she never got back with the second chapter and I forgot where this originally was going so ~ who knows? Enjoy anyway because this was just sitting in my drafts for God knows how long! :)