I sprint directly behind him as he rounds a corner and then throws himself up the building's central stairwell. Halfway to the first landing, I grab him by the ankle. My fingers dig into his skin and yank him backward, slamming him down onto the concrete steps with a thud. He jerks his foot forward to release himself from my grip, but my hold only tightens.
Before I can draw my knife, he drives his foot into the center of my chest, knocking me down a few steps and shoving the air from my lungs as I land on my back with a gasp. He seizes upon my temporary incapacitation as his window of opportunity to escape, and he scrambles on his hands and knees up the stairwell.
"Son of a bitch..." I whisper, trying to catch my breath. I shove myself off of the ground and dart up the stairs behind Diego. He rounds the landing on the second floor and flings open the door to one of the units. He slams the door shut behind him, but I quickly bring my right leg up to my chest and kick it inward with little effort. The door flies open, and I see Diego backing across the cluttered living room towards a bedroom.
Before he has time to take another step, I grab my knife from its thigh holster and hurtle it across the room with a yell. Diego screams in pain as the blade impales his forearm and pins him to the wall. Before he can attempt to rip the knife from his arm with his free hand, I quickly draw and throw the second knife. It pierces the center of his left palm, wedging his hand end into the crumbling drywall.
"I'll give credit where credit is due, Diego—you have definitely given me more of a run for my money than any target I've had before," I pant, breathing heavily. I hate that this entire scenario has already played out much longer than it should have. It's time to end this. I reach into my back pocket and grab my switchblade, popping it open with a flick as I cross the room to Diego.
"Vete al infierno, Reaper," Diego spits at me, his breath coming out in short bursts and sweat pouring off his brow. I fiercely grab his face in my hand and glare at him, the moisture in his stubble melting into my fingertips.
"I already have a one-way ticket there, pendejo. Unfortunately for you, my time has not arrived just yet." I jab the tip of my switchblade up against his jugular.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a man's voice calls from about fifteen feet behind me. I narrow my eyes at Diego before I whip myself around and hurtle the switchblade in the direction of the unfamiliar presence. But my target swiftly ducks out of the way, and my blade drives into the hallway wall.
Diego lets out a scream as he forcefully wrenches his left hand free. My knife clatters to the floor, and he kicks the back of my legs. I fall to my knees as he pulls the other knife out of his forearm.
"Salir de aqui, Diego!" The other man bellows, running towards me. I roll over with an angry growl and grab my knife off of the floor as Diego darts into the bedroom.
"Damnit!" I scream as I scramble off of the ground to follow. I have just seconds to kill him before he reaches his physical body, but then a firm grip on my back belt loop forcefully yanks me backward. I watch helplessly as Diego hastily lowers himself down onto his body before completely disappearing from sight.
I yell out in rage and throw my right elbow upwards and back, connecting hard with the unknown man's face. He stumbles just enough for me to flip my body around and kick him square in the stomach. He falls onto the ground from the impact, and I quickly jump on top of him, ramming my forearm into his throat. I spin my knife in my right hand and forcefully press it against his trachea to kill him on the spot, but then I hesitate. As I study his features, it dawns on me who this person is.
This is Isaac Diaz, and his picture definitely didn't do him justice.
His short scruffy beard has a smear of murky blood in it from where my elbow clipped him in the jaw, his dark brown hair is ruffled from our fight, and his piercing blue eyes bore holes into my green ones as we both breathe heavily.
My eyes flicker down, and I notice that he's got his own knife angled upwards to stab my ribcage, but he hasn't made his move yet either. We hold our positions for a moment in silence, clearly in a standoff with one another. I finally feel Isaac lower his knife from my side and hear it clatter to the wood floor. He slowly raises his hands up to either side of his head in surrender.
This is my chance to take out at least one of the two Diaz's. I should ram my knife into his throat, get my kill-con, and not even give his death a second thought, but I don't.
I fucking don't.
"Pick your knife back up, pendejo," I demand angrily, hoping he will give me a reason to change my mind.
"No. If you want to kill me, go ahead," he says smoothly.
"Eres un idiota," I spit back at him, pressing my knife into his throat a little harder. He doesn't even flinch—he just continues staring at me with his hands raised. I bite my bottom lip and tightly close my eyes for a brief moment. My rational side is telling me to kill him and just end this entire ordeal now. But it's contested by another voice, overwhelming and drowning out any hope of me making the smart decision.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes, staring into his as I slowly release my forearm from his neck. Without breaking eye contact, I grab a chunk of his hair and use my knife to cut off a lock. I place the blade in between my teeth and withdraw the kill-con vial from my front pocket, stuff his hair into the small glass container, re-cork the top, then shove it back into my pocket so I can get the hell out of here.
Leaning over, I grab my other knife from the floor next to his body and restore it to its holster. I un-straddle him and jump off of the ground, slowly backing away and removing my knife from my teeth.
"I swear to God if I ever see you or Diego again, I will kill you. If any information leaks about my identity, again, I will hunt you down and kill you. Got it?" I gradually step backward towards the door.
"Duly noted," he replies, sitting himself up.
I grit my teeth slightly then reach back to pull my switchblade out of the hallway wall. Without another thought, I turn on my heel and take off down the stairs, throwing open the door to the apartment building. I sprint out into the mist and hang a hard right in the direction of my hotel and my body.
God, I'm an idiot. I'm a giant fucking idiot.
As an assassin, I have a strict set of five rules that I follow to keep myself alive:
Rule number five: no relationships. This has proven to be far easier to adhere to than I care to admit. I'm not exactly girlfriend material, and most partners can't handle me anyway. I've been accused of being heartless more times than I can count and I haven't met anyone who particularly piques my interest.
Number four: don't eat banana Runts. Ever since I can remember, even looking at them grosses me out. No idea why this is a thing for me.
Number three: always take birth control on time. I absolutely cannot bring a child into this world. If that kid shares even a sliver of my DNA, it will end up a walking disaster like yours truly.
Number two: do not fall in love under any circumstances. Love leads to weakness, and weakness leads to getting killed. I very much enjoy my life and the way it's been going (up until tonight), so I really don't want to die in the name of an entirely irrational feeling. Love is nothing more than chemical reactions, hormones, and stupid decisions.
Number one: Do not let anyone live who can identify me. This is my most important rule and I just knowingly broke it. Allowing people who know what I look like to live is as stupid as it gets. Only Dani and Sam know my true identity; even members of Del Sur don't know that I am the infamous Reaper. Anyone that discovers who I am in the astral world doesn't live to tell another soul.
Well, at least, not until now.
After what feels like an eternity, my dilapidated, graffiti-laden hotel looms above me. I reach the fourth floor in record time. I kick the door to our room open and throw myself onto my body. The internal panic at what I just allowed to happen begins to settle in, and my desperation to talk to Dani threatens to overwhelm me.
I screwed up horribly.
My spiritual and physical bodies fuse together, and my eyes open to the world of the living. Dani is anxiously pacing back and forth next to the bedside with a vial of epinephrine and a syringe in her hand. As soon as she sees that I'm awake, relief floods her face, and she drops the vial and needle. She throws herself onto the bed to hug my sweat drenched body tightly, her breathing quick and labored.
"Oh my god B, I thought . . . Jesus, I thought Orias was back! Your heart rate spiked, but you didn't tap the emergency signal on your watch, so I didn't know what to do. Are you okay? What happened?"
"We have a problem, Dani," I pant. "A big one."