An Assassin’s Oath by Shayla Hart
Ezra
Why me?
That’s the question I keep asking myself over and over the last couple of days. Why did this have to happen to me? I’m a good person, and I haven’t hurt anyone— not intentionally anyway. I help people all the time. I just don’t understand what I could have done in my life to deserve this kind of punishment. I’ve been standing in this shower for well over forty-five minutes, trying to figure out where I went wrong in my life.
I had a good life, a father who loved me in his own twisted way and offered the world to me on a silver platter. I had great friends and people I trust. It wasn’t perfect, but it was MY life—at least I thought it was.
My life went from being mine to me being a pawn in whatever dark shit my father was involved in a matter of seven days. I was doomed either way.
If Damien had let me go, I would have been made to marry Calum, and God only knows what he would do to me given the drug and weapon trafficking. I thought I knew him, but it seems I didn’t know him at all. I didn’t even know my own damn father. And now, I’m being forced to marry an Assassin— a contracted killer who still may very well kill me if I defy or betray him in any way.
Damien terrifies me. I keep replaying the unyielding look in his eyes when he was pointing that gun at me. Not one glimmer of humanity, just an empty hole of darkness. That’s what I see when I look into those gray eyes of his.
We’re complete opposites, like night and day. I wonder what could have happened in his life to turn him into such a cold-hearted killer. Who is he? Who was I being blackmailed into marrying?
I sigh and turn the water off. I picked up the towel and wrapped it around myself, walked out of the bathroom, and noticed the door was open. I look around warily. I’m sure I closed the door before I went into the shower. Was Damien in my room? Walking over to the door, I poke my head out and look out in the corridor. Slowly I move over to the master bathroom when I see steam emitting from the crack in the door. Damien must be showering too. I quickly shake off the images of him naked and wet and haul my butt back into the bedroom and close the door behind me.
* * *
After I gotmyself dressed in a pair of track bottoms and a t-shirt, I decided to go downstairs. Damien wasn’t around. I assumed he was still in the shower or his bedroom. I look around the living room, hoping I would find something…anything of his to help me understand him at least a little, but to no avail—no photos of family anywhere.
I look through the collection of books he has stacked neatly on the shelves. It was a selection of fiction thrillers and murder mysteries, and non-fiction books about World War One and World War Two. He’s a bit of a history buff.
I pick one of the books and read the blurb on the back as I walk over to the sofa. The fire was crackling in the fireplace. Damien must have lit it before he went to shower, which I was grateful for because I was freezing. Picking up a cushion from the sofa, I lay it on the rug in front of the fireplace and set the book beside it. I see a bottle of merlot on the bar, pick the bottle up along with a wine glass, and settle myself in front of the fireplace.
Pouring myself half a glass of wine, I open the book and lose myself in someone else’s story for a while. I was about ten pages into the book—which was rather dark and creepy—might I add when I hear Damien’s voice behind me, causing me to start.
“I thought you would be in your room.” I look up at him and gulp. Like me, he was in a pair of loose black track bottoms that hung low on his hips, but he had nothing on top. He stood there in all his six-foot-four glory, looking at me penetratingly, waiting for an answer. I shrug and turn my attention down at the book I was holding.
“Only so many hours in the day I can take staring at the walls,” I mutter and pick up my glass of wine and sip, trying anxiously to ignore the roguishly handsome, half-naked man standing across from me. As much as he scared the bejeezus out of me, I’m still oddly attracted to him.
I look up at him again when he leans over and picks up the bottle of merlot and smirks darkly when our eyes meet. “Helping yourself to my wine too, I see.”
“Well, you are going to be my husband. So, what’s yours is mine, right?” I utter, holding his gaze steadily and take a slow sip of the wine.
Damien wets his lips, watching me intently.
“If that were true…” I blink and swallow the wine in my mouth as he inches closer to me. “I would have you sprawled out and taking you as mine right about now.”
I gulp and lose myself in his fiery gaze. Get a grip, Ezra!
“I’m not a damn possession you can stake a claim over, Damien,” I tell him evenly, and the corner of his lips twitch.
My eyes close when his lips narrowly miss mine and brush against my ear where he speaks lowly. “That’s where you’re wrong, pretty girl,” Damien murmurs, and I bite back the groan. I can already feel that heat coursing its way through my veins. “I’ll possess every fiber in your beautiful body, and you’ll willingly submit to me so fast your head will spin.” There’s so much solidity and danger to his words that my stomach flips uneasily.
I pull back and meet his firm gaze. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Damien's eyes slowly rake over my face before he picks up the bottle of wine sitting beside me. “Are you challenging me, Ezra?” He utters, pouring himself some wine.
“Power-hungry much?” I retort, and he smirks bleakly. “I will not submit to you now or ever. I’m not a plaything you can use to satisfy your twisted ego.” I drop my gaze from his and force myself to look at the book again.
“That’s mighty big talk for a girl who willingly spread her legs for me a few days ago.” I glare up at him as he walks over and sits on the sofa opposite me.
“You’re a pig.” He smirks, legs spread wide, one arm on the back of the couch while the other holds the stem of his glass, watching me intently. I can feel that damned pull at the pit of my stomach; it’s beginning to be a regular thing whenever I’m around him. I couldn’t figure out if it were fear or desirability.
I open my mouth to fire back a scathing remark, but a sudden noise from somewhere in the house made me stop short. I sit upright and look over at Damien, who was already up to his feet, a gun in his hand. Where the hell did he magic that from. It was daunting how quickly he went from being relaxed and mellow to full-on Assassin.
“What was that?” Damien presses his finger to his lips and gestures me toward him. I get up and rush over to his side, my heart racing up in my throat. We move around quietly; Damien looks around the house, and I follow closely as if I was his shadow.
We slowly move through to the kitchen toward the back of the house. I watch Damien as he slides the back door slowly and steps out and pulls me close to him when I hesitate. He suddenly stops and slowly pulls the barrel to his gun back, briefly his eyes turn to me, and he holds his hand up, silently telling me to stay put.
I nod and watch as he moves around the back of the house, his back pressed against the wall. Damien suddenly hauls himself back behind the wall, and a loud gunshot echoes in the air. I shriek and watch in horror as Damien fires a couple of rounds and hides behind the wall again when someone fires back at him. He looks over at me, “Get down.”
I slide down the wall I was leaning on and cover my head with my arms, undoubtedly a wise decision since I was moments away from collapsing.
My body went rigid with fear as I watch Damien firing to shoot down the intruder. It was dark out. I doubt he could even see who or where he was shooting unless he’s got some superhuman night vision that I wasn’t aware of.
My heart jumps every time another gunshot echoes through the air. I peek up when it all stops and see Damien disappear around the corner where his gym is. In the distance, I hear a scuffle, and not even a breath later, a man, dressed in all black, flies backward and hits the ground.
Damien appears a second later, and the man does a flip and jumps up to his feet again. I watch in horror as they fight one another. I felt as though I was watching an action movie. Damien strikes his fist in the intruders' face, skillfully blocking the punches and hits with a couple of body shots and a kick straight to the chest, knocking him backward. Holy Hercules, if I weren’t so damn terrified, I’d be turned on right now.
The intruder pulls out a ninja dagger from the holder around his ankle. “Damien knife!” I shout, and Damien glances down at his hand and sees the blade between his fingers. I cringe when he swings it across Damien's face, but thankfully he pulls his head back swiftly and punches him hard across the face.
They continue brawling, throwing combinations of skillful kicks and punches, and I shudder every time I hear Damien break another of the intruder's bones. I release a breath when Damien pulls him up by the collar of his jacket and brings him close to his face, “Who sent you?!” He barks, and when he doesn’t respond, he punches him again harder. I cringe inwardly when I hear the crunch of the other man’s bones. “I’m not going to ask again?!”
“Fuck you.” He hisses, glaring up at Damien, who glances over at me briefly before turning to the man on the floor.
“Wrong answer.” He snarls, and in one swift move, he twists his head, breaking his neck. I watch the man’s lifeless body hit the floor with a thump. Damien kneels beside him, patting him down, I’m assuming searching for some form of identification before he gets back up to his feet.
“Ezra,” I peel my eyes away from the dead body on the floor and lift my eyes to Damien, who crouches down in front of me. “Get up. We’ve gotta go.” Damien grips my shoulders, hoisting me to my feet, and drags me through the house by the arm. “You just…” I felt disoriented from the shock that I didn’t even feel his tight grip on my arm as he hauls me through the house and up the stairs.
“Damien. You just…killed him. Oh, my God.” I utter and wince when he tosses me into my bedroom. I just about catch myself before I hit the floor. “Who…who was that?”
“That, pretty girl was the first of many who are trying to kill you. Get dressed and pack up some clothes. We gotta move.” Damien explains curtly and walks out of the bedroom. I watch his retreating back and turn my gaze to look out of the window and see the dead body on the floor— my stomach lurches. I run to the toilet and throw up what little I had inside my stomach. Once there was nothing left, I pull myself up to my feet, wash my face, and sob while I dress as quickly as I could, my entire body trembling like never before.
* * *
Half an hour later,we were in his car and tearing away from the farmhouse. I had a million questions burning in my mind that I needed to be answered, but I didn’t…I couldn’t muster up the courage to even ask in fear of the response I would get.
None of this felt real until I watched Damien kill that man with his bare hands without an ounce of remorse or a spec of humanity. I just let the tears flow freely, gazing out of the window and trying to wrap my hazy head around the hell that has become my life.
“Are you all right?” I hear Damien ask, and I shake my head and press my palm against my forehead.
I sigh deeply and close my eyes. “Am I all right? No, Damien, I am not all right. I am so far from being all right it’s beyond funny at this point! I just watched you kill someone with your bare hands, and you’re just sitting there like it’s completely fucking normal that you have a…a fucking dead body laying in your backyard!”
“You’re in shock. It's normal. A lot has happened in a week. You're just trying to process everything. You’ll get used to it.” I turn my gaze to him and gape.
“Get used to it? I don’t want to get used to everyone trying to kill me or having to watch you kill people like it’s just another day at the office. I don’t want this. I never asked for this. I just want to go back to my old life where everything made sense because this…this isn’t my life. It can’t be!” I snap irked, and Damien glances at me and back at the road again, totally calm.
“Your old life is over, Ezra.” He says coolly. “And the sooner you accept that, the easier the transition will be for you.” I shake my head, wiping away the tears that just won’t seem to end. I felt a constricting in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing my lungs, cutting off my oxygen.
“Stop the car, Damien.” I pant, reaching for the handle to open the door, when Damien grabs my arm and yanks me back, stopping me. “Stop the car! I can’t—I can’t breathe, please! Just stop the car!” The car rolls to a stop on the side of the road. Damien lets go of my arm, and I pull the handle, push the door open, and jump out of the car.
My head was spinning, my heart racing at an unnatural pace, and I couldn’t catch my breath. The giant lump forming in my throat made it even harder. I lean over and place my hands on my knees, gasping for air.
Suddenly Damien appears in front of me, taking hold of my shoulders, and lifts me to stand upright before he presses me back against the car. “Ezra, hey, look at me. You’re having a panic attack. Just breathe.”
“I can’t…I can’t.” I pant breathless, and he takes a step toward me and pulls me against him. Damien lifts my head and looks into my eyes.
“Breathe, Ezra, slow deep breaths. You’re okay.” He instructs calmly, his thumb stroking my jaw gently, brushing my hair away from my face, all the while his eyes never leaving mine. “Close your eyes.” My eyes slid shut on his command, and I feel his hand lift mine and place it on his chest. “Breathe with me.” I hear him whisper soothingly, pressing his forehead to mine. It took a couple of minutes, and my heart begins to beat naturally again, and my breathing returns to normal.
I open and lift my eyes to look at him. Those gray eyes are staring attentively into mine as though he wanted to see into my soul. “Better?” I nod, and he pulls away and walks around the car. “Get in.”
And just like that, he’s back to his usual icy demeanor. I begrudgingly get in the car, and we begin our journey to Las Vegas, where I’ll be forced to marry him and take his last name.
And I’ll become, Mrs. Ezra Wolfe.