Option: an act of choosing; to make an option between such alternatives.

Now, here are my options: heart or head... well, or dick but I need to get this kill over with so either número uno or dos.

See this isn't my usual poison killings so I'm tryna have fun with this sniper.

"He's approximately eight hundred meters away from you, Ivory," Isiah tells me through the earpiece.

Could have at least given me a warning that you were going to talk, Isiah. His South London voice almost gave me a fucking heart attack.

Precisely, I aim the crosshair at the mother fucker. Heart it is. Without thinking twice, I press my finger on the trigger and watch in amusement as his blood splatters everywhere.

Well, that was pretty good. I feel bad for his walls though. They were a nice shade of white. Eh, whatever.

"It's done," I smirk, packing up my sniper. One of the biggest sex traffickers now dead and I was his killer. Sounds pretty nice to me.

"Good job, Ivy, now get out of there. You have another mission," Isiah says and I internally groan. Why am I an assassin again?

The money. Right. Making me rich and shit.

"Police should be here in three minutes, Ivy. You're not the fucking Flash 2.0, hurry up with your shit," he informs me and not very professionally either.

"Do you prefer a gun or knife?" I ask him as I throw my sniper case on my shoulder, opening the rooftop door.

"What?" He mutters and I can already imagine the confused look on his face. God, he's stupid. The real question is, why is he my right-hand man?

"What tool would you rather be killed with, Isiah. Gun or knife?" I repeat, jogging down the stairs and skipping a few steps here and there.

"How about I stick that gun up your ass and shove that knife down your throat?" He suggests sarcastically and I roll my eyes. I'll just throw him down the stairs later, it's fine.

I push open the exit door and slide into the passenger seat of the GTR skyline. "Took you long enough," he mumbles under his breath and changes gears, immediately driving.

"Who's the guy I have to meet again?" I grumble, ignoring his previous words. I did not take long. Besides, I'm the best assassin in the world, I'll take as much time as I need.

He spares a glance at me, rolling his eyes, "Kylian De Luca, the Italian mafia leader."

"And why does he want to meet moi?" The Italian mafia leader wants to meet me? That's something surprising since everyone -especially the mafia leaders- is out to get me.

And oh look, he was out to get me as well. It didn't go as planned obviously since I'm well alive.

I was trying to leave a building after just killing one of his men and I take a right turn only to meet his annoying dark blue eyes.

He aimed his gun at me. I aimed my gun at him. Long story short, he straddle me and I did the same to him until the police came and we went our separate ways.

So why does he want to talk to me now?

"Something about Russians. Besides the point, you got your outfit?" He asks, and I nod with a smirk before going to the backseat.

I look under the seat in front of me and find the bag that carries my black silk dress and matches high heels that strap around my ankle.

"No looking," I warn teasingly, about to take off my "assassin" suit. Yeah, I don't really have a name for it yet.

"Now why would I look?" He winks at me through the rear-view mirror before turning it so I'm not in his view.

"Because I'm hot," I state the obvious as I switch into my silk dress. I'm not lying, I am pretty hot. Smoking hot, you might even say.

"You're also cocky, you know that, right?" He scoffs. Cocky my ass.

"Self-love isn't cockiness, Isiah," I remind him, putting on my high heels. He just doesn't understand. If you were as hot as me, you would.

"Well, loving yourself too much is," he huffs, making a hard right turn suddenly. Oh, he's dead.

"You did that on purpose, right?" I ask innocently, switching back into the passenger seat.

"What do you mean? It's an accident, Ivory." He sends me a fake smile. Accident? How can you make a hard right turn by accident?

Does he want me to slap that sarcastic grin off his face or would he rather have me skin his face off instead?

"Just when I accidentally stab you, don't be complaining," I mumble, emphasising the word accidentally.

"You already stabbed me before," he states and I gasp dramatically, reaching for my heart. We swore we would never talk about that, traitor.

My face quickly goes back to normal. "You stabbed me too," I scoff and he narrows his eyes as if he's trying to remember. Mother fucker, I have the scar for proof.

I mean, I gave him a scar too but let's pretend that never happened so I can have my moment of pretending to be innocent.

"Oh, yeah," he slowly nods his head, "that was fun." Umm? Did he just say stabbing me was fun?

"Well, your mum and I were having fun last night." Gosh, I just sounded like a ten-year-old kid.

"Ha, my mother's dead, jokes on you," he turns his head to look at me with a smile and we both burst out in laughter.

It's a way of coping. A weird way, very weird. But it helps... kind of. We say something like that at least once a day, we're good. Somewhat good.

He parks the car at last and I take my hair out of my ponytail. I mess around with it before turning to face him. "Do I look hot or hot?"

"I don't feel like boosting your ego, Ivy," he chuckles. So what he's trying to say is that I'm hot? Got it.

"My ego is perfectly rated, thank you," I disagree as I strap a knife on my thigh. Kylian is a sneaky bastard meaning I don't trust him.

"Okay, get out," he huffs. Rolling my eyes, I finally step out of the car with my purse and walk towards the security guard.

He eyes me up and down with a smirk and not saying anything, he just opens the door for me to enter. Weird mother fucker.

As soon as I enter, the sound of music blasts in my ear and the smell of alcohol hits my nose almost instantly. Ew, people.

I push myself through the crowd and sit at the bar. I hate people. Isiah is an exception. He's been with me ever since my family died. He's always been with me, and I love him, despite how annoying he is.

"What would you like?" the bartender asks me but my attention is to who's sitting in the V.I.P area. Kylian De Luca with a girl on each side of him.

"Whiskey please," I mumble, never switching my gaze. He hasn't noticed me yet. Should I just kill him? He pisses me off.

"Don't kill him," Isiah says through the earpiece. Fuck. How did he know?

"I'll try not to," I grumble back, grabbing my cup filled with whiskey. "Yeah, try," he repeats sceptically.

He should be lucky I'm going to try because I know for sure that I can kill that idiot right now with no problems.

Kylian's eyes finally meet mine and his lips curl up into a smirk. "You," he mouths to me, narrowing his eyes.

"Me," I mouth back. Me as in the hot, black-haired assassin with pretty green eyes who's wanted by everyone since I'm unstoppable.

I wave my fingers at him teasingly before downing the alcohol. Ignoring the burning sensation in my throat, I walk into a dark, empty hallway.

He's going to follow me obviously. And in about ten seconds he should be here. This is a perfect chance to kill him- nope.

As soon as he walks through that door, I pin him against the wall, my arm tightly on his collarbone to keep him in place.

His hands grip onto my waist and he pulls me closer to him. Way closer than before.

"Hello, love," he says. His mint breath fans on my neck and the smell of his cologne hits my nose.

"I'm here, what do you want," I grit out. My gun is my purse and my knife is strapped into my thigh. It would be such an easy kill. Okay, I need to stop.

"You, darling." Even though it's dark, I can still see the smirk forming on his lips. "Darling, huh," I chuckle.

He wants me after trying to kill me? A bit embarrassing, isn't it? Whatever he has to say better be good.

"I need to take down the Russians," he tells me at last. The Russians? Yeah, fuck no.

"Take them down yourself," I scoff in his face. I have no business with the Russians and I would like to keep it that way.

I turn around and attempt to walk away but he grips onto my hand. "Wait," he breathes out.

"What, De Luca?" I huff, turning back around to meet with his blue eyes. If he needs me, I must be his last resort.

"The Russians are after you, if you help me take them down, you won't have to worry about them," he says, and my eyebrows furrow.

Since when were the Russians after me? I haven't tried to kill them and they haven't tried to kill me.

"You killed one of their men a month ago," he utters, clearly noting the confused look on my face. I did? Welp, I'm not even surprised.

"What's in it for me, other than killing the bastards?" I tilt my head curiously. I don't do a favour for someone if I don't get anything back in return. Childish? Maybe.

"You can take their mafia, take their money, their supplies, their guns, and mags," he lists. Fuck, that does sound good.

"How long do you think it will take to destroy them?" I ask. "Well, the next mission is soon. It'll take a few months at best," he answers.

"Fine," I huff, "I'm in." Can you blame me? Everything he listed sounds good as fuck.

His smirk only grows after hearing my words. "Glad to hear it." Yeah, I bet your desperate ass is glad.

"When's the next mission?" I grumble. "Oh, don't worry about that, you'll find out," he murmurs. The fuck is that supposed to mean?

"I'll see you soon then," I smirk, taking a step back. "You will," with that, he opens the door and leaves.

"Get me information on Kylian De Luca. Documents, certificates, I want everything," I order Isiah. I'm not going through with this without knowing at least a few things about him.

"Sure thing, Ivy," he replies and almost immediately I can hear him searching on his keyboard. Damn, this nerd brings his computer everywhere.

I quickly go back to the bar and grab two bottles of whiskey. "Hey, you can't take that!" The same guy who took my order yells.

"Pfft- yes I can, watch me." I send him one last smile before walking out the door and into the car.

"Hey cutie," I greet, nodding my head at Isiah. "You really stole two bottles?" He laughs. Obviously, does he think that low of me?

"Right, tell me about him," I say, opening a bottle. "Well, his family died when he was sixteen." Oh, look, we're twins.

"Murdered actually, by someone who wanted revenge on his father." And then he goes on, telling me more and more information.

This guys life is sounding more and more messed up... damn.



suppp my favourite kuttis <3

so do u guys like ivory or what?

that's pretty much it ADIOS MFSSS

word count | 2028