At one in the afternoon, and with the apartment newly and freshly cleaned, Lilith left her apartment for her new assignment. With her, she took a turkey sandwich wrapped neatly in aluminium foil, her trusty Ruger GP100, and seven bullets. These possessions nuzzled one another snuggly inside the depths of her white Valentino handbag. A silver gown was draped delicately around her willowy frame, complete with a faux fur scarf. Her heels clicked on the cement floor of the underground car park as she searched for her car.

Lilith had no love for luxury brands or stylish clothes, and definitely not heels, but every now and then a more sophisticated hit needed a capable disguise. Blending in was something Lilith had naturally been good at, but if she'd shown up to a movie premiere wearing her usual attire, it would've drawn unwanted stares. The exact expected turnout for this particular movie was unknown, but her employer had warned her that it would be big. Like she didn't already know that. Any movie with Mark Ulwich in it would be considered "big".

Her feet were already beginning to cramp when she finally opened the door of her Mercedes. Lilith hated heels. The ones she wore rubbed irritatingly on the back of her feet as she began to pull out of her parking spot. The premiere began at three, but she needed time to set up first. Killing celebrities and other influential people always required a little extra bit of caution.

And Lilith would definitely need to be cautious when killing Mark Ulwich.

He was an actor. Not just any actor, an A-lister. The type that magazines compete furiously to score an interview with. The type that millions swoon over. The type with his name on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at the age of thirty-seven. Academy winners. Golden Globe superstars. Even Lilith had heard of him prior to taking the job, and she never kept up with celebrities.

The warmth of the afternoon sun felt comforting on her skin as she began the thirty-minute drive to the movie's premiere. It was called Rosemary, a romantic-drama about a woman and her husband who was dying of cancer. Typical Oscar bait. The death of Ulwich would only further increase the film's popularity. She could practically see it now - the heartfelt speeches made by colleagues, the meltdown by pre-pubescent fangirls on Twitter, maybe even a new song dedicated to Ulwich's memory, à la Furious 7.

To her, Ulwich's death wouldn't be criminal. It would simply be life.

Lilith's fingers twitched as the Mercedes rumbled onwards towards its destination. The absence of a cigarette clutched between them made her feel uneasy. As if something was wrong. Off. Strange.

If she had the choice she would've brought a packet, but alas, Rosemary's premiere had a strict no-smoking rule. She was suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating. How loudly it echoed in her ears. Her fingers began to twitch on the wheel, and she shifted in her seat in an attempt to quell the feeling. That dreaded feeling. The feeling that caused one to fidget and squirm, that caused them to sweat and grow hot. It surprised her because Lilith hadn't felt it for a long, long time.

So why was she feeling it now?

Her phone rung. Her head snapped towards the sound, too fast. A sharp jolt of pain travelled up through her neck, and Lilith winced. Nonetheless, she answered. "Yes?"

"Passmore?" The voice on the other end sounded anxious, uneasy. "Where are you? You said you'd be here by one forty."

"I'm on my way," she tried her best to ignore the throbbing pain in her neck and navigate traffic at the same time. "It's only one twenty-five, Sanders, calm yourself."

"Okay, okay," Kevin Sanders' breathing was almost deafening. Lilith could picture him pacing frantically up and down his room, running a hand through his greasy black hair. "I just don't want this to go sideways, okay? This is important. And risky. Very risky, you know? And the people from E! Entertainment and Vanity Fair are already here. I need you to get here fast, okay? Okay? Set up your stuff and then leave. It's got to be clean."

Exasperation fought to escape through her lips, but she managed to hold it back with effort. "Yes, Sanders. I know. Clean kill. Discrete."

"Right, right, because I can't be roped in on this." Sanders' voice was growing increasingly high-pitched. "I mean I have a career here, a blossoming career."

"Yes, Sanders. I know. You have a career. That's why you want Ulwich dead." Lilith had learned from the beginning that it was better to agree with everything Sanders said. He would shut up eventually.

"Yeah, yeah," he sounded dismissive. "Look, just get here, okay? I'll get you past security, in and out, no problem. Okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay." There was a long, drawn-out breath on the other end. "It'll be fine. Everything's fine."

"Everything's fine," Lilith repeated, and ended the call before Kevin could say anything else.

Up ahead, in the distance, she could see the building in which the movie would be screened. Flocks of black cars crowded around the entrance. The paparazzi were arriving in anticipation of the actors and actresses of Rosemary.

Her neck throbbed. Her fingers twitched. Her heart pounded inside her ribcage.

Everything was fine.