"A hazelnut latte?" A girls voice asked above me. 

Glancing up at her I nodded as she set my coffee in front of me. I turned away from her retreating form to look out at the busy street. Currently I was sitting in a secluded corner of a small cafe, waiting for a certain client to meet me here. Underneath the table laid my hand gun ready if the man wants to try anything. I have had times where clients decide they do not want to pay and tried shooting me, which of course did not work out for them.

My green contact lens took in the bustling sidewalk. There were a mix of nicely dressed people heading to work and tourist looking people. You could tell the tourist from locals with their camera's and phone's out taking pictures of anything and everything. Different accents and languages could be heard as they talked loudly over the traffic.

I felt both angry and jealous of their ignorance of the world. They all walked around not knowing that in an instant someone could kill them in a blink of an eye and not care. They could be wiped out in a second but were ignorant as they bustled along to get wherever they needed. 

I was jealous that I wasn't like them. No, I was nothing like them, I knew of the monsters that hid in the dark. I knew of the dangers that would happen even if you didn't want them to. I knew that once you were touched by darkness you cannot get out of it. Gone is the ignorance and innocence.

"Ms. Mathews?" Snapping my gaze away from the street I made eye contact with a the man I was suppose to met here. The man was in his late 40's and I could see his beer gut through his dress shirt. He had an ugly comb over which did little to nothing to cover his bald spot.

"Mr. Cannon." I greeted but made no move to stand up and greet him. I stayed seated keeping my gaze on him. My eyes took him in looking for a gun he may have and when I didn't see one I inwardly sighed in relief. Even though he didn't have a gun in plain sight I kept mine pointed at him under the table.

The big man lowered himself into the seat, his beady eyes staring at me as I didn't move an inch. When dealing with business you can never let your guard slip or you may end up dead. I learned that years ago and it has saved me multiple times. If the person had no idea what you were thinking the less likely they were to try something.

"I want proof." Mr. Cannon said. I could see a small bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. I inwardly smiled at the fact that he was scared of me. As he should be. 


"Are you questioning my work?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He gulped before shaking his head quickly.

"N-No. I just want to make sure it is done." He stuttered out.

I stared at him wondering why he paid to have his friend killed. Sure I found out his friend was sleeping with his wife but it still baffled me as to why he would want to kill him. Mr. Cannon could have easily left his wife but apparently he didn't realize that. In my line of work I could not voice my own opinions on the matter but it didn't stop me from wondering silently.

Mr. Cannon took my silence to mean something else for he quickly pulled out an envelope filled with cash and passed it over to me across the table. His hands were shaking as I grabbed it. I knew that the entire amount was there so I didn't waste anytime counting it. No one would be stupid to cross me. 

With my business done here I slid my gun in the waist band of jeans and the money in my bag. Standing up I looked down at him. I grabbed my coffee not wanting to waste my money that I spent on it, plus I needed as much caffeine as I could.

"Just know it's done." Was all I said before turning and leaving the cafe. Not glancing back I dodged around people as they entered the place and headed out in the crowded sidewalk.

Walking alongside people heading for my car that was parked down a ways, I looked like an average 25 year old. I looked like I was out shopping or waiting for a friend but it was all a lie. I was anything but average and the idea of me having friends was laughable.

It took me a little longer to reach my car for all the people I had to move around. I sent my baby a small smile. I loved my car as it was the only thing I could really call mine. The sleek black Camaro thankfully didn't look out of place beside other nice looking cars in downtown New York. The bustling city was filled with expensive cars making mine look crappy.

Peeling away from the curb, I entered the traffic filled roads mentally cursing all the traffic. I hated the congested downtown area for it took an hour just to move 3 blocks. It didn't help with people walking across the street slowly, not even noticing the cars waiting for them.

When I finally did make it out of the traffic, I made my way to my fathers house. Both the money and my gun sat in the passenger seat. As much as I wanted to feel bad about taking money from Mr. Cannon, I was not. I was getting paid for my services. I was trained not to feel bad about killing and taking the money that we were owed.

The car ride to my fathers went by pretty quickly. The traffic had thinned out as I made my way out of the city which was nice. My father's house, well more like mansion, was situated a little bit outside of the main part of New York. The mansion was in the middle of 15 acres of land, no neighbors for a few miles away. My father liked his space and with our line of work it was better if we didn't live near people who could become suspicious of us.

I pulled up to the large gate that lead to the entrance of the house. Two armed men exited out of the small booth that sat there. The men had multiple guns stashed on them along with a huge assault rifle in their arms in plain view. Shifts were taken by my father's men to stand guard out by the gates. You never know who could show up uninvited.

They noticed that it was just my car and let me straight through. I definitely was no stranger to them or this place. I grew up here so it would be terrible if they did not let me in.

The cobble stone pathway went on for about a mile before reaching the main house. I parked my car and stared up at the brick stone house. When I was younger I thought this place was like a prison and it was still true. It may look like a normal house on the outside but it had many secrets inside.

The moment I was able to move out to my own place was the day I could breath slightly. I always had someone breathing down my neck when I lived here, it was certainly something I did not miss My father wouldn't let me leave so when I turned 20 I finally had enough. After threatening to leave for good he let me get an apartment although it wasn't that far from here.

As I stared at the house good and bad memories came rushing forward. While I did have some good memories here the bad ones always seemed to push them back. It seemed like that way with everything. If you ever experienced something bad it always took precedence over the good things. Like having a terrible teacher for instance; you are more likely to remember the rude, mean, grouchy math teacher instead of the loving, caring, and sweet english teacher. It was just how the mind worked.

Sighing I got out of my car, locking it behind me as I headed for the front door. The longer I sat out here the longer it took for me to get home. It wasn't like I totally hated seeing my father...okay that is a lie. I hated seeing my father, especially after retrieving money. He always had to question my work and if everything went smoothly with the money. I just wanted to get in and out as soon as possible.

My heeled shoes clicked against the hard tile as I entered. I could hear men's laughter and loud booming voices as I headed further instead. I knew the sounds were coming from the living room where most of my fathers men hung out. The large tv and access to the big kitchen only a few feet away was the main reason for them to always be there.

The moment I stepped into view all eyes turned to me. If I was anyone else I would have ducked my head and probably be scared but I was not. Most of these guys I have known since I was little and some just for a few years. Everyone knew I was the bosses daughter and not to be messed with. Expect the last part wasn't because I was the daughter of their boss, no it was because they knew what I was capable of. The one person who did dare to flirt with me and grabbed my ass, ended up flat on his back with my gun in his face; safe to say no one else touched me again. My father probably couldn't careless if one of his men tried something on me though.

"Hey Jessie!" A familiar mop of blonde hair yelled as he jumped up from the couch. Tyler made his way over to me. Once he reached me he pulled me into a huge bear hug. My face smashed against his muscular chest and he squeezed a little to hard. Tyler Maine was probably the only one who ever dared to make friends with me. Most were too scared or couldn't be bothered. It helped Tyler that we were the same age and have been around each other since we were 18 years old.

"Hey Ty." I said, smiling as I took a step out of his arms. I didn't really do hugging. I can count on one hand how many times I have been hugged and all have never been from my father.

"Well don't you look mighty fine today." He flirted with me, a grin on his face. His baby blue eyes looked me up and down. I just rolled my eyes. Typical Tyler. He always found some way to flirt or compliment me. I think he mostly did it to see if I would blush, something I never did. I glanced down at my outfit to see what he was talking about.

Today I kind of dressed up since I was meeting a 'client'. A pair of tight blue skinny jeans incased my toned legs, thanks to years of training. I wore an almost see through white blouse-y shirt that hung off my shoulder. My brown hair was pulled into a sleek looking ponytail. I didn't have much makeup on but I made sure to do more on my eyes so my green contact lens shined brighter. They were an unnatural shade of bright green that tended to make people weary of me. To top it all of I put on some tan high heels to make me taller than my 5'6 height.

"So, coming back from a deal I take it?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah, heading to my fathers office to give it to him." I held up the envelope filled with cash. By now no one was paying attention to us. They all went back to whatever they were doing before I interrupted.

"Did the guy give you any crap?"

"No." I sent him a look as if to say 'yeah right'. I guess a part of Tyler really did care if I got hurt but the other part just wanted to hear if I ended up shooting or hurting someone.

"Man I was looking for a good story to hear." He pouted. Of course.

"I better go and give this to dad. He is probably expecting me." I gestured towards the hallway leading to his office.

"Yeah don't want you to get yelled at." I could practically see Tyler shiver at the thought of my father. Sure he was a scary man, really scary, but if you showed any ounce of fear he would deem you not good enough. "I don't get how you do it." You and me both. 

"I'll see you later, kay?" I sent him a small smile as I started backing up.

"Of course." His smile was back as well as his chirpy attitude. Waving at him I turned and headed for my father's office.

Because the house was so large there were multiple levels. The lowest level was the basement or gym as we liked to call it. Because it spanned the entire length of the house underneath the ground it had many uses. One side had everything from punching bags to weight benches were scattered everywhere. It was the best of the best equipment.

On the other side was the 'torture chamber' as some liked to call it. It is where my father and his top men brought traitors or their enemies. There was a door that lead straight to a chair and some other things I won't mention. Here is where executions were done. I have only ever been in there twice and that was enough for me. I couldn't ever imagine being in there.


The next level was the main level. This is where the living room, kitchen, meeting room, security room, and my fathers office was. My father had a huge office that was probably the length of two bedrooms put together. He spent most of his time in there and only a select few were allowed in. The 'wing' where the office was, was usually unoccupied since no one dared to come this way.

The top level was the bedrooms. There were about 8 bedrooms and they each had an attached bathroom. Even though my father had about 100 or so men working for him only a few ever stayed here at the house. All 8 rooms were usually occupied, beside my old room and my fathers of course, and those that stayed in them were my fathers right hand men. The others lived else where with families, or even as roommates. 

Reaching the door leading to the office I took a deep breath and schooled my expression. The moment I stepped through that door I had to let all my emotions go; whatever emotions I had left. Emotions are dangerous is what my father always said. I knocked on the door three times before waiting 10 seconds and entering.

Upon entering I saw my father leaning back in his chair behind his desk and his second in command, Rick Turner, sitting off to the side on the couch. Even though it was only 2 o'clock in the afternoon both men had a glass of scotch in front of them. My father didn't even glance at me as I shut the door, keeping his conversation going with Rick. I quickly took a seat in front of his desk and waited for their conversation to come to end. It was probably five minutes later when my father finally looked at me.

"Is it done?" His deep voice asked. His brown eyes were made of steel and showed no ounce of emotion in them. They were basically black instead of brown.

"Yes." I put the envelope on the table and slid it to him. He just nodded and grabbed the money. As usual not a single 'good job' or 'well done' was given, something I was use to by now.

"The man give you any trouble?" My father asked.

"No father. He seemed pretty terrified to do anything." At that my father cracked a cruel smile. Just looking at it made shivers run down my own spine. I guess I should probably introduce my father. 

Meet Byron Wright the second most feared man in the world. A man who was a mafia boss, dealing in everything from drugs to smuggling guns. A man who had hundreds of people under his thumb to do whatever he wanted. The man who made me into his own personal killer and is my adoptive father.

While Byron was not my real father he raised me since I was 8 years old. He took me in and raised me like his own and for that I was forever grateful. I called him father because it was weird to call him by his real name when for so long I've said 'dad'. However, I do remember my real parents. Flashbacks came once in awhile of them but it has been so long since they died that I only can remember odd things. Like my mother's beautiful long brown hair or my father's bright blue eyes that glowed when he was happy.

"I'll send your cut to your account later." Byron said. At his tone I knew he was dismissing me. I forced myself not to feel hurt that he didn't even say a thank you or anything. He immediately turned his attention to Rick leaving me sitting there. Not wanting to be in here longer than I had to, I quickly got up and left his office, closing the door behind me.

I can finally go home and get out of this place. Having spent the last 5 years living on my own I hate coming to this house even more. It just showed that I will never be able to get away from here or this life, no matter what. As I made my way out of the house I said bye to Tyler and a few others before sliding into my car. I wasted no time in peeling out of the driveway back to the road.