Lilith sank into the plush embrace of a worn-out beige leather swivel, slumping her shoulders. Arching her neck over the back of the chair, she let out a weary sigh. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, her fingers tapping nervously against the armrests.


    Doubling over in her chair, her innards were twisted in a chaotic mangle. “Despite his resources, Zarovar didn’t even organize a viewing chamber for the Selection!? Damn cheapskate!” Her brow was wrinkled, teeth gnawing away savagely at her lip. Her fingers tapped against the desk, her nerves, a wreck. She knew deep down Azrael had ascended to heights most assassins could only dream of.


    She had meticulously shaped him into a force to be reckoned with, while ensuring none of her other proteges had signed up for the Selection. The thought brought a flicker of hope, smoothening the crinkles plaguing her brow.


    Though there’s no telling when a dark horse candidate pops up and tips the scales unfavourably.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Tugging at her hair, she tapped her head against the mahogany desk.


    Dammit, now I’m just losing it.


    Her lips quivered.


    Even if he’s the key to my goals, I hope he’s alright.


    Amid the tensed silence hanging over the listless office, Lilith sensed a sudden perturbance approaching. Footfalls tread its way to her office followed by the crunch of a door blown off its hinges, caving inwards.


    She was up on her feet before a splinter fell off the frame, pointing a steady finger out a bandaged hand. “If you’re here for the hit I put out, you’re late. If you leave without trouble, I’m willing to overlook the price of a new door.”


    The dust cleared.


    A steady set of footsteps spilled out into the light, wielding a weapon poised at her, unveiling a familiar face.


    Eyes widening, she lowered her extended finger. She dropped down into her beige leather swivel, biting her lip.


    “All that black and not a dash of white,” said Lilith. “If only I could’ve dyed my existence grey.” A lone tear moistened her vision, slithering down her cheekbones, trickling off curled lips.