The Alpha Assassin novel Chapter 18

With The Hunter’s eye’s on me, I couldn’t possibly try something against him unless it was time to finish him. My waking hours were spent unwillingly confused by the questions he posed. Was The Silent Assassin his boss, for lack of better terms, or a warning? I couldn’t figure him out, and I found people so hard to read, especially in the past few years.

This was the first time someone confused me, and I had to admit it was just as much as a thrill as an annoyance. It might have just done something to quell my boredom, but I was curious, even if his words were a diversion.

I scoured the unorganized library and found nothing of note, but it gave me something to do. I wanted to catch him alone, but he was either with Nolan or not easily found, and I knew that’s because he didn’t want me to find him.

As far as I could tell, nothing was told to the Alpha. We carried on the next few days as normal or as normal as they could be.

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I turned a corner with my head down, deep in planning. I focused on the familiar frayed edges of the carpet. I didn’t need to look up. I knew where I was and where I was going based on the wear of the carpet.

So many useless pieces of knowledge stored away. So many hours spent wandering these halls trying to do anything to keep me out of my grief, to keep me sane.

I rounded the corner, and his black boots stood on the edge of the carpet, my map. I scowled and suppressed an unwelcome twist of excitement. I tried to walk past him.

“You can’t pretend like you didn’t see me.” His rich voice rumbled. “I saw you pause.”

I slowly looked up, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He raised an eyebrow expecting me to go on, but I didn’t. I held his stare with an impassive one that I hoped bordered on vapid. I stepped around him.

“Simone,” he called, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

“What?” I didn’t bother looking back.

“Did I do something to make you upset?” he asked, and I spun around.

“Am I not allowed a moment of peace? Or is this an official interrogation?” I quipped, crossing my arms.

“You’ve been looking for me,” he said, devoid of any inflection.

I stilled. “Have I?”

“Yes,” he replied.

I couldn’t say I was seeking him out, but I have been noticing where he was or wasn’t. Maybe I was looking for him.

Fuck. I was looking for him.

“So, I decided to come to you,” he added. I took a deep breath. “You’re welcome.” His mismatched eyes danced.

“Was that a joke?” I asked. He barely shrugged. “I didn’t take you for the joking type.” He didn’t say anything, and I was feeling uncomfortable. “So, were you just waiting here hoping I walked down the hall, or were you joking about waiting for me?”

“I took a calculated guess,” he said.

“There are a lot of hallways.”

“There are,” I agreed. “So…”

He looked me over as if deciding something before he loosened a breath. “When you leave a room, if you don’t have anywhere specific to be, you look down when you usually head straight to the stairs and at the wall when you start on the first floor.”

“What?” I couldn’t hide the confusion. I couldn’t stop my hysterical laugh. “I thought you were being serious at first,” I admitted.

“I was,” he said slowly, his brows slightly tugged together, pulling over a thin scar. I had to look away; he was beautiful.

“Okay,” I responded with a smile. “Go on, explain yourself.”

“I don’t know why you do it, just that you do.” His lips set in a thin line. “Why do you do it?” he asked.

“Look at the floor…?” I asked again.

“Don’t make me sound unhinged. You were just looking at the floor.”

Then it hit me. The rugs, the walls.

What else did he know?

“It’s a habit, I guess.” A habit I didn’t know I had, a habit he picked up on. What else had I let slip under such keen eyes? But he wasn’t normal. He was seeking, searching for someone like me, someone abnormal that only focused on pushing away grief and revenge.

“Go on,” he prompted after a long moment.

“Gone,” I murmured, and he released his hold on me.

“Oh.” The corners of his lips tugged down, and he met me with an intense stare. I’m sorry.”

“You asked,” my anger flared.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted. “Not all of it.”

“Something you don’t know.” I snorted. “That must have been trying for you.”

“I- I.” He closed his mouth. I had never seen him at a loss for words.

“I don’t understand.” I don’t know what came over me. “You accuse me of something outrageous.” Poisoning him, as if anyone would believe that. A side of his mouth quirked up, and he shut his eyes before composing his face. “You come to me with riddles and then avoid me.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?” I demanded.

“I was testing a theory,” he said plainly.

He was infuriating, and I felt my anger slipping through the cracks in my mask. “Care to share?”

He shrugged, but his mismatched eyes were alight with something that I might have thought was playfulness if it was anyone else.

“Fine.” I let out a long breath trying to recall the person I created all those years ago.

It was so easy to lose it around it, but I knew it wasn’t entirely unintentional. The more I got to be what might have been myself, the more I wanted to be. It was addicting in a sort of way. Even a few short moments of not acting made me feel rejuvenated yet relaxed. It was a strange, unfamiliar sensation, and I craved something that felt normal, that felt real after all these years of pretending.

“I want to show you something. Get your opinion,” he said. It almost seemed like he was asking me.

“I didn’t know we were on the same side,” I retorted, still reeling.

“We aren’t against each other.” But we were.