18

He always does this thing where he fucking disappears into thin air until it’s almost impossible to find him. And then, when someone does find him, he’s already finished several people and comes back all covered in blood as if it’s a normal occurrence. We might all be killers, but the difference between Kyle and me is that I only kill when I absolutely have to, mostly in self-defense or to protect my family. He’s the type of unfeeling psycho who does it as a pastime. Not only that, he also doesn’t take backup. A lone wolf through and through. I lift my head over a BMW to study my surroundings, but I come face to face with the opening of a gun. Fuck. “Throw your gun behind you,” the man who holds the weapon says in an indecipherable accent, but I don’t have to guess at his origins. His Asian eyes and thick hair give him up as either Chinese or Japanese. “I’m Rai Sokolov, Sergei Sokolov’s grandniece.” “Gun on the ground or it will be your brains.” Shit. I slowly let go of my gun, making