The Assassin

Cassie Dreandry knows from personal experience that being an assassin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. At sixteen, Cassie lives a double life of days in high school and nights working for the government, killing international criminals under the alias of the Assassin.

After a planned murder goes wrong, Cassie begins to receive strange letters and a blond man starts following her around town. As the letters become more and more threatening, Cassie realizes that the notes are from her biological father, a man who left her life when he went to jail for the death of her mother. Now, he’s back, and he won’t miss his opportunity to kill her like he did sixteen years ago.

Once the she puts the pieces together, Cassie’s adopted father, Joe, has gone missing and all the signs point to her biological father. Cassie must find both of her fathers to save one and stop the other, but that could mea


1. Chapter One


Chapter One



            I see you, I think. You can’t hide from me.

            By the glances over his shoulder, I can see that he knows something is wrong. His face is creased with wrinkles at the eyes and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. The stress has been eating him alive.

            It’d eat me alive too if I knew what was about to be exposed to the world. I stare at him for a moment, then I glance up at the screen in the cab of the train.

            The next stop is the one we get off on. If I lose him, I’ll catch up with him in just a moment. This part of New York City is familiar, like the back of my hand.

            The cab slows down to a stop and the doors open and ding. He takes a step off the cab, and I exit off through the other doors.

            I follow him up the stairs to the street; always making sure someone is between the two of us.

            New York is always busy, but the population always seems to double on Friday nights as everyone wants to be out in the city. Everyone wants to live the high life.

            There’s only two of us who don’t want to tonight.

            He takes a left and then crosses the street to his building. I give him a moment to gain some distance. The more time he’s at home, the more comfortable he’ll be at home when I sneak in.

            A group of cars whiz by and I wait. That’s the majority of the game: simply waiting. The waiting always pays off in the end.

            “Isn’t it a little hot to be wearing that jacket?” A woman standing next to me asks.

            I don’t respond, but simply ignore her. There are reasons for the jacket. Reasons she doesn’t need to know.

            I follow everyone as they cross the street and head off to the building where my man unknowingly waits.

            The wind begins to pick up and I know I need to finish this sooner rather than later. It’s about to storm and I can’t risk being slowed down by the rain.

            On my walk I notice the people of New York. There’s the group of homeless people that I pass. One tries to reach for me, but I’m too quick for him.

            Too quick and too focused to blow this.

            Aha, I knew you couldn’t hide from me forever. He’s standing across the street, talking on his phone.

            The phone is going to be a problem, I can’t risk approaching him while he’s on the phone, they may try and contact the police.

            He needs to hang up. I watch him unlock the door to his building. He slips into the building and must be heading up to the to his condo.

            I give him two minutes to get upstairs and settle down.  After I cross the street, I slip into the back alley and walk up to the service entrance.

            Pulling out a knife, I cut the dead bolt lock and open the door. I shove the lock into the pocket of my jacket and begin to open the door.

            “Do you hear that?” a voice echoes across the room and I can either follow through and slip in to hide, or I can close the door and risk them coming outside to find out who’s here.

            I pick the first and let the door slam behind me as I dive behind the big stack of boxes.

            “Yeah, hello? Bob, go look and see who’s back there.” The second man has a much deeper voice and it carries much better.

            I can feel the footsteps in the floor. One step, two steps, three steps, four and then nothing.

            “I don’t see anything.” The first man is closer, almost too close. I shift my weight to my right foot and glance over my left shoulder, waiting for them to go back to work.

            “Should we go get a manager?”

            “Yeah. Let’s go find a manager. Someone clearly just tried to come in through that door when it’s supposed to be locked.”

            The footsteps travel away and a door on the other side of the room slams shut and I sigh in relief.

            I’ve got about thirty seconds before they come back. When I walked in, I saw the service elevator on the right side of the room, but I had to duck to the left to hide.

            Breaking out into a run, my shoes make a slight pinging noise against the concrete floor and I’m glad there’s no one here.

            The elevator is small, so I have to dive in and I find myself curled up in a ball. How can full grown men fit in here when a sixteen year-old girl can barely fit? I give the button a kick and the elevator begins to climb upwards.

            It’s old and rusty and for a moment I doubt the elevator’s ability to make it all the way to the fourth floor. Sure, for a New York building, it’s nothing at all, but this elevator doesn’t seem to know what to do.

            But, despite my doubts, the elevator makes it up and I’m forced to wiggle my way out of the elevator.

            I open up the door and climb out into the hallway. Across the hall is apartment 434. Just the apartment I want, I think.

            Thankfully, the hallway is dead, except for the hum of the air conditioner. The main elevator on the other end of the floor dings open and I stop for a moment. The footsteps are faint, a normal person wouldn’t even hear them, but after a few moments, I can tell they’re walking away.

            Just a few more seconds and then I continue walking towards the door in front of me. When I reach it, I lean over and press my ear to the door, listening. There’s someone walking around, but they’re in the back, not in the front.

            I know the kitchen is on the left. Typical and modern with its stainless steel appliances. There’s a balcony on the back, a little small, but it fits a table and two chairs. I can’t see him being one to actually use it.

            On the right side of the apartment is the living area, with one couch and a coffee table. There’s a TV on the wall, and there’s a lamp on the floor next to it. The bedroom is beyond that. For a man as rich as he is, he lives in a small place.

            I twist the door knob and the door opens. Slowly, I slip in between the door frame and the door, closing the door without a word.      

            The apartment looks exactly like it did yesterday. Clean, but someone else is here. Not just him and me. There’s a third person.  I have no idea how I know this, but I’ve been trained to follow my instinct, and my instinct says to hide.

            Bam! I freeze at the sound of something hitting a wall. There’s no way I’ve been caught.

            “I asked you to do one simple thing. Find me her name. Find out where she lives so I can kill her. That’s all I asked from you, and you couldn’t deliver?” This man isn’t the man I want, he’s the third person, and I know my instinct was right. This man sounds horrific, like he may kill someone.


            “Look, I did what I could, but the last documented date on her record is in 1996. I think she’s dead-”

            “She isn’t dead!” The man roars and I dive for a spot in the kitchen cabinet.

            Here, I can crack the door open just a bit, and while the fit is tight, I can see directly into the bedroom.

            The two men aren’t in my line of sight, but I can see shadows dancing against the wall.

            “I think she is. And if for some reason, she’s still alive, she’s vanished. Obviously someone took very good care to make sure you couldn’t find her.”

            “I will find her, that’s for a fact. She’ll be dead in two weeks.  But as for you?” the first man pauses for a moment, as almost as if he’s thinking. “You don’t have quite so long.”

            I see the shadow reach behind himself and produce a gun.

            “No, you…you can’t. You can’t kill me. Give me another chance. I bet you’re right, there’s still a possibility she’s out there. I’ll have my men keep looking. We’ll find her-”

            Click. He’s silenced by the sound of the gun locking into place. “Too late.”

            Bang. One. Bang. Two. Bang. Three.

            Then nothing.

            The floor shakes as he falls to the floor, no doubt dead by now. Footsteps follow the drop and then other man comes barreling out of the door.

            He’s older, maybe mid-forties, blond, receeding hairline. Nothing to make him stand out at all except for a scar across his right cheek.

            But he’s gone as soon as he arrived, and I can’t get another look at him.

            I wait a few seconds after the door slams to make sure he’s gone for good, and then I proceed to climb out of the cabinet.

            If his neighbors are there, I’ve got thirty seconds tops to make sure he’s dead and then escape.

            Granted, the man who shot him used a silencer, but if someone was in the room right next to him, there’s still a chance that they might have heard the gun.

            When I push the door open, it’s obvious that he’s dead. Blood has begun to leak across the carpet.

            Two shots to the chest and a shot to the head. There’s no way he could have ever survived.

            I stand there and stare at him. Jonathan Sharp is dead. Killing him was supposed to be my job.

            But, it looks like someone beat me to the punch.


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