In for the Kill (Skream's Remix) - La Roux

"Shit!" I swore loudly as I felt the sharp pain in my wrist. The impact was hard and the cold, damp sidewalk was less than inviting. I knew from the telltale pop, that my left wrist was broken. Shit. This wasn't going to plan already. Maybe I had rushed it.

"I'm so sorry!" the target exclaimed. He ran a hand through his bronze hair, crouching down to check on me. The pictures and the voyeuristic stalking I had done did not do him any justice. "Are you alright?"

His voice was cultured and smooth, deeper than I had expected, but it still caused a shiver to run down my spine. I shouldn't be reacting to a target like this. I winced as the sharp pain began to shoot up my arm.

"I, uh, think it's broken," I said, lamely holding my rapidly swelling wrist in between us. In the light from the street lamp above us, I could see that it was already becoming discolored and bruising badly.

"Fuck," he said, exhaling and waving someone forwards. I spotted Jason Taylor looking at me with a polite disinterest. "We need to go to a hospital."

I groaned internally. I knew it was the only option, but there would be a record. And if anyone was running checks on my name they could easily figure out which hospital I was at. But more importantly, what kind of injury I had suffered. It was risky, but I had no other options if I wanted to make this in with this target work.

Looking back up at the target, whose grey eyes were full of concern, I felt my breath hitch as he helped me to my feet. My body was tingling from the sensation of his touch, and I swallowed thickly.

Focus, Ana. Breathe. He's your target. Breathe. Focus.

I was slightly shaky as I stood next to him. "Taylor, go and get the car. We'll walk back towards you."

Taylor the SEAL gave a curt nod, his eyes sweeping over me, still slightly suspicious. If the target didn't have the extra security team that was standing behind us, I would have agreed that the order was stupid.

"What's you name?" he asked politely, walking very close to me, making my body hum. I needed to get over this shit before it put me in more danger.

"Anastasia," I said. There was no risk in giving him my real name. I had a whole identity set up and it was completely airtight. Thanks to Ethan's father of course. Everything in my world came at a price.

"Well, Anastasia," he said, causing my heart to flutter as his voice caressed my name. "My name is Christian Grey."

I nodded, figuring it was the best response. As a supposed photojournalist, I was supposed to know exactly who he was. Frowning as we kept walking, I realized that my false profession might be a detriment. Usually it gave me access to officials and politicians, but in this case, I had a feeling it would be a problem considering the target's hermit-like ways. "I know who you are."

He grimaced. "What do you do?"

"I'm a photojournalist. I focus on international events and spreads, but I'm technically freelance. I have a contract with Kavanaugh media, but it allows me to be published by anyone," I explained. "I'm only Seattle for a few months."

He nodded, still looking conflicted. "I'm going to have you ask you to sign an NDA."

I shrugged. I wasn't surprised. "That's not a problem."

He looked slightly surprised. "Aren't you supposed to be a journalist? Isn't pushing me part of you job?"

I gave him a wry smile. He was just as arrogant as I had expected. "You're not my project."

A black SUV pulled up besides us and Taylor the SEAL hopped out, opening the door for us. I slid into the back seat after the target, as the woman from the secondary team climbed in next to Taylor the SEAL. I froze when my target began to buckle me up. My hand was throbbing and I was thankful for the oxycodone I had taken earlier. It dulled some of the pain.

Constantly being around death makes you numb inside- eventually. But the numbness only last for so long before the waves of guilt and loneliness crash onto you, knocking you down. It's hard to have a heart when you've stopped so many yourself.

We all have demons, of course. I just chose to feed mine.

The car was silent as we sped through the damp, dark streets of downtown Seattle towards the hospital. I was correct in assuming we would be going to Seattle Grace. My mental map of the city hadn't failed me yet. Taylor pulled into the emergency drop off area and the target escorted me inside and to one of the desks. After checking in, I knew I would be resigned to a long wait considering I wasn't particularly distressed. I knew the target was watching me closely as I sank onto one of the hard plastic chairs.

"You don't have to stay," I said.

"I have nothing better to do. Are you sure you're not in too much pain?" he asked again. I bit my lip and his eyes darkened considerably. Interesting.

"I'm fine," I said, gritting my teeth. I knew that my oxy high would begin to wear off soon and I wasn't looking forward to having to face two potentially broken bones without any pain killers. I needed them to survive during the day- how was I supposed to survive physical pain without them?

I closed my eyes and rested my head on my good hand.

"I got you some ice," the target said, gently placing a bag of ice on my wrist before sitting back down next to me.

"Thank you."

"You know it's not safe to be running alone at night," he said. Despite his soft tone, he sounded extremely domineering.

"I know," I said, still burying my head.

"I hurt you unintentionally. What if I had been someone who was trying to hurt you?" he asked, much more harshly. I wanted to laugh. He had no idea that the people who wanted to kill me would have killed me hours ago. If they knew where I was.

Before he could jump down my throat again, I pulled my taser on him. "You'd be dead."

His eyebrows were raised, and his mouth was slightly open in shock. I knew I had a fast draw, but I felt sluggish, surprised I even managed to surprise him. Regaining some composure, he shrugged. "I'm not joking, Anastasia."

I raised an eyebrow, putting my taser back. "Neither was I."

He frowned. I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him again. Nearly every woman in his life was subservient or didn't call him out. I had to be different, but still familiar if I wanted to get close to him. It was a game- how to be familiar but different enough to be interesting. Thankfully, I didn't have to dye my hair pink this time.

"Anastasia Steele?" a nurse called out. I rose to my feet, my hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline that was still present in my system.

"I'll be here," the target said, tapping away on his Blackberry as the nurse escorted me down the corridor to the emergency room.

I'd broken bones before and I wasn't surprised when the doctor informed me that I had a fracture. He set the bones and wrapped me efficiently in a cast, handing me a prescription for codeine. It wasn't oxy, but there was no way I was going to miss the opportunity to get my hands on any type of narcotic pain medicine.

True to his word, the target was still sitting when I emerged from the room an hour later.

"Where can we take you?" he asked, escorting me towards the waiting car.

"The motel off of fifth," I said, buckling myself up before my-the target could touch me again. If I was reacting to him like this, I didn't need to get in any closer. I had never reacted like this to any other targets before.

Taylor the SEAL pulled the car to a spot, and just as I was about climb out, the target grabbed my good arm. It sent some delicious shivers down my spine. "You're staying here?"

The distaste in his tone was easy to pick up on. I rolled my eyes and pulled out of his grip. "In Syria, this would be luxury accommodation. I'm a simple girl, Mr. Grey."

His eyebrows raised. "You were in Syria recently?"

I nodded. Not to take photos, though.

"Wow," he said, clearly not expecting my answer.

"Have a good morning," I said, climbing out before he could stop me. It was just past three in the morning and I would have five hours before I had to up again.

My arm was throbbing and I was on edge as soon as I locked myself in my room. I had to be much more vigilant this time. One cursory search of my name would show exactly what city I was in. I popped another Xanax into my mouth and another oxy, and waited for sleep to claim me.

I woke up screaming. Catching my breath, I frantically looked around me, finally realizing I wasn't in my childhood home, covered in my parents' blood. Glancing at the bright red numbers on the alarm clock, I realized I had overslept.

I changed quickly, wiping down my body with a damp towel instead go showering. The cast on my wrist was going to be the death of me. I could only hope it wouldn't be literal.

Sneaking into the construction site took longer, especially trying to pull myself out of the sewer one handed. At least it was my left arm that was broken.

I set up my scope and waited.

I glanced through the scope again, spotting Leila the Submissive in the target's office. He was nowhere in sight, and I trained the scope on his office door. He walked inside and paused, watching Leila as she sank to her knees. I rolled my eyes, knowing what would transpire between them, but the target had pulled her to her feet. She was crying and trying to pummel her fists against his chest. He looked murderous, nearly shaking her as his mouth moved, like he was yelling at her. This was exactly why I wished I had the opportunity to bug his office.

She scuttled out of the office, her head down, probably crying. My target poured himself a drink and sat down behind his desk, looking like he was trying to calm down. His office door opened and a blonde woman walked in. The target greeted her, but she quickly turned her back to me. There was something familiar about her, and I frantically flipped through my notebook, trying to find out why I recognized her.

Turning back to the scope, I watched as she sat across from the target. She set up a voice recorder and I sighed, realizing she was a reporter. After a few minutes, she turned her head and I froze. She looked directly at the scope and my heartbeat picked up. Katherine Kavanaugh was about to take my target out. She flashed me a smile, letting me know she knew exactly where I was and that I was watching.

I quickly pulled up the security mainframe of Grey House on my computer, typing as fast as I could with one hand. Glancing back through the scope, Katherine's hand was in her purse and I sent the code, praying it would cause all of the fire alarms to go off. I couldn't tell if it had worked, but much to my relief, ever reliant Taylor the SEAL burst into my target's office, ushering him out. Katherine looked at me again, frowning. It was game on.

Sighing in relief, I quickly packed everything up, ready to move. Katherine was inexperienced and I really didn't want to play this game with her. I was surprised her father had put her in this position, hiring her as one of the multiple contractors for this job. He should know better.

Generally, once a target was selected, multiple contractors would be contacted. This created a competitive atmosphere, motivating one of us to make the first kill. That person would get to cash in. But, it also encouraged us to kill each other. I once had to take out six other contractors before I could take out my target. And if someone as inexperienced as Katherine was sniffing around Christian Grey, I knew her father, Eamon, had to have hired others. I had to watch my back.