"That's enough."

Shortly after Michael throws the guy back onto the tiled bathroom floor. He gasps for breath, wiping his vision clear from water and makes a crawl for the door. Quickly I kick the door shut and bring the same foot down onto his hand.

His fingers space out to avoid the heel of my boot from slicing into one of his chubby fingers. Tilting my head to the side I smile sweetly at the man indebt of over eight grand to his ex-wife. At the memory of him leaving her for someone younger I dig the flat of my boot into his palm.

"All of this could be avoided if you weren't such a scumbag. I mean, you knocked her up then left because she was getting fat."

He struggles for breathe still and he tries to get some words out. "T, That bitch."

"The only bitch here is me," I scoff and drop my smile completely. "Your wife is lovely and so is your baby boy. So I think you're going to suddenly decide to pay her back the eight grand you owe and agree to child support. . . unless you want to see how much of a bitch I can be."

Frank shakes his head and finally catches his breath. "Go to hell."

I glance up at Michael who is leaning against the vanity which is covered in makeup. His girlfriend isn't home at the moment and while it would have been amusing to drag her into this, the woman was clueless to his involvement beforehand. She won't be when she gets to work because his ex-wife will be making a call to inform her.

"Wrong choice."

I purposely kick him underneath his jaw to witness the flip back. Michael pushes off and latches onto what's left of graying brown hair. Seconds later his plea is engulfed by water and he struggles to push himself away from Michael.

While Frank is about the same width as Michael, he doesn't have the developed muscle but blubber instead. It makes his fighting back futile especially considering how light headed he might be from water consumption.

Not that I care, it's his own fault. If he agreed he wouldn't be thrashing around under water and I personally don't have a problem killing him. Besides there's no injuries on him unless you count the kick to his jaw.

But that wouldn't show up on an autopsy. I didn't kick hard enough to break it.

Michael pulls him back to the surface and chuckles menacingly. "Have you changed your mind? Because we need to leave shortly and if we have to stage your death as an accident then we'll need to consider the time it will take as well."

"F,Fine."

Nodding I rub my lips together which feel bare without something on them for once. "Great. First payment of a thousand is due in two weeks then so on until it's paid off."

"I can't-"

"Oh you will find a way to pay for it," Frank's eyes widen as Michael moves past me and out into the hallway. "I don't care how you get the money but as long as you do. Every two weeks you come up with a grand then you'll pay child support after - you need to own up to your responsibilities, Frank."

He hunches over, holding his beer belly while I exit the hallway only to hear sobs behind me. The small home belongs to the girlfriend - who may actually kick him out - the mechanics of it all aren't important in this case. His ex-wife wanted money back or for him to end up destroyed.

One of the two are going to happen and it's acceptable for the client. They're satisfaction is important which most of the time they are - unless they're trying to screw us over in the money department.

"It should be about an hour drive," Michael opens the car door for me once again, giving me a smile that melts most females heart. "That way you can become a loving daughter again."

I fake laugh and punch his shoulder with a glare. "Bite me, asshole."

"And lose my teeth? No, thank you."

Rolling my eyes I climb in the back and instantly rip off the blonde wig. While it would be good to reveal my natural hair color - it only happens when I'm sealing the deal with clients or if they're definitely going to die. I can't afford to have my reputation tarnished to the public eye.

After all, nobody would really ever expect a psychologist to be an assassin. It's all about keeping up a charade and that's the fact I'm the academic one in the family. Liam's the responsible and Phoebe is athletic although that comes with other pressures.

She's meant to be the perfect daughter because she doesn't have blood on her hands like the rest of us. I'd be ignorant to say it would stay that way considering our family but hopefully it never comes to that. I don't want her to go into an emotional turmoil even if she's stronger than I ever was at her age.

She shouldn't become me. I don't want her to become me which is why she's sheltered so much - despite all her protests. Phoebe has a shot at a normal and happy life unlike all of us who could end up in jail or dead at some point. It's the family business and we won't stop until we've been defeated.

Which won't happen because nobody can pin point the deaths, accidents or connections to our family. It leaves the law enforcement baffled especially with the connections we have on the inside - like Michael for instance as well as a few others embedded into the system.

I wouldn't call our family criminals but we definitely aren't saints. We kill people for money, for the right price we may neglect the moral compass with the exception of two things. Anyone under eighteen and pregnant women are off limits, that's when th3 clients become the targets for even suggesting the hit.

And do they pay the price dearly.

"Are you okay?" Michael voices, snapping me out of my blank stare. I blink a few times and glance up from the blank email I planned to send to Frank's ex wife. "We'll be there in twenty minutes. You tuned out for a solid hour, mostly but you kept tapping the iPad subconsciously."

"I was thinking about Phoebe."

"You're really concerned about her. . . why is that?" He turns in his seat and I purse my lips. "Well? I'm practically your second, unwanted brother."

Exhaling I make direct eye contact. "I'm worried about her breaking down before school is over. The friends she's around are bitches that I don't like or trust, they want to destroy her."

"What makes you say that?" Michael tries to keep a smile but I know from the uncertainty he's now concerned. "Is it a hunch or a possibility?"

"I've been collecting dirt on all her friends in case that's going to happen - I overheard them once, they knew her boyfriend was going to break up with her months before he did. I thought it was bitchiness but that had been the plan."

Michael's jaw clenches as he slowly shakes his head. "Phoebe deserves better than those fucking morons."

"Exactly why I'm concerned she'll remain oblivious until it's too late," I scowl and drop my focus back to the email. "She knows I don't like them so she can villainize me all she wants if they screw her over because I'll end them. I have no reservations about doing so either."

"You're kinda scary."

I raise an eyebrow. "I feel like that's a compliment, are you feeling okay?"

"Hilarious," He faces the front again, fiddling with the radio stations. "We'll be there in approximately fifteen minutes. Make sure there's no blood visible either, Helena isn't in a good mood according to Liam."

"What, why?" I question and feel slightly panicked he alerted mom to the real reason I would be arriving just in time for dinner. "What happened?"

"All I know is I've been told for you to be on your best behavior, on time and without any weapons. Something big is going down tonight and whatever it is has your mom fuming."

I nod stiffly and the thought irks me. What the hell did my brother manage to do now? Normally he's in the doghouse with mom after sending me away for tasks and I get hurt or high risk ones. She doesn't like the person I become when I switch modes, I'm cold and ruthless without humanity.

Understandably, no mother wants to witness their daughter void like I can be.

I've sent an email of confirmation, sent a text to Phoebe over what she's laid out for me and calmed the alarms bells that were going off previously. When the car pulls into the lengthy driveway, gates sliding across behind us as we approach the top slope.

Immediately my eyes fall on the cars parked around the art piece acting as a roundabout of sorts. One car is an identical match to this while the other is a white lexus shinning just as bright as the marbled building. I exhale slowly and focus on my iPad once I have the license plate.

I type the lexus into the search engine but lock my iPad just as the door opens. Michael's eyes flicker down with caution and I huff, sliding out without taking his hand. I step carefully on the cobblestone driveway with the knowledge I could easily roll my ankle in these heels.

"I'll bring your bags inside." Ian draws my attention as he closes the trunk of the car while carrying a duffel bag.

"I can take that," Michael takes it from his hand and haul it onto his shoulder as he carries his suitcase as well. "Go to your wife, have the night off."

Ian nods and smiles brightly at the mention of his wife. They've been together since high school and she works as a stylist for the house. While trusted employees are given rooms in the guest house around the back, spouses are allowed to stay on the premises if they sign an agreement.

Hear and see evil but don't speak of it. Unless you want to die. It's why they're in the back and only some are aware of the secret of our family. Ian for example has been working for us since I was in middle school, he grew up next door to my mother. It's why he was trusted to take care of me most of my teens, he's more than capable of firing a gun if needed.

We enter the eerily quiet house and I start for the stairs when I hear a chair screech. The sound of heels alert me to my mother's presence who appears with an expressionless face. Her hair is tied back in the usual ponytail and dark purple lipstick brings out the violet specks in her blue eyes.

One quick swipe of the dark dress and I recognize the pokerface meaning business. Whatever is happening is serious. Normally I would be smothered in kisses and hugs but she stands a few feet away, arms crossed and gives a stiff nod in acknowledgement.

"Give me your knives," She extends a hand and I furrow my eyebrows. "You'll get them back later, I just don't want to risk you drawing blood."

Scoffing I shake my head. "I never go without protection - what is going on?"

"Blake, now isn't the time. You don't need to get changed just remove your knives," I sigh and reluctantly remove the ones strapped to my garter hidden underneath my skirt. Handing over the two tiny blades she does a quick once over. "Pocket knife?"

I furrow my eyebrows and shrug off my leather jacket, opting to place it on the table resting against the staircase along with my iPad. "Hidden compartments. I don't have anything but my claws."

Mom places the knives underneath my jacket, coaxing me with a finger. I follow hesitantly towards the dinning room and straighten my posture for what's to come. Mom passes through the large door frame where my heels dig into the polished floorboards at the sight before me.

"You have to be kidding me," I sneer, shooting daggers at mom's back as she returns to the head of the table. Liam shoots up from his seat beside her and I resist the urge to grab the nearest weapon. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"Take a seat, Blake. We need to get started," Liam speaks and gestures to the seat beside him. I glance at Phoebe who is gripping the arm rests of her chair with an undoubtedly pissed off look etched into her features. "Don't make me restrain you."

The threat encourages a snicker from the opposite side of the table. My eyes lock with the owner and it's as if I black out in a blur of rage when I take my first step.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Authors Note

First cliffhanger of this story - I would say the only one but realistically that's not going to be accurate. 

Question: who do you take after in your family? do you like Blake? thoughts on Michael?

Thoughts? Feelings? Predictions?

-wickedxone