Live For It

|10|

ZHARA

Sat on the window seal, I stared at the tall buildings as my knife twisted simultaneously in between my fingers. 

The sun was setting by now, and I had been in the room for almost three hours, bored enough that I could read the bible that was in the drawer. 

Okay...maybe not that bored. 

After Flynn had dropped me at the door, he said he had to go do some things and then he would come back to hang out with me. I had danced around the room a bit, singing a few songs to myself and pulling out the air guitar. I tried searching the room a bit more for some weapons, then remembered I had my actual weapons and started aiming them at random things for no reason. Then I took off my shoes and painted my toenails and then gave myself a manicure, feeling very neat and fancy as I overly-used my hands. I tried braiding my hair in millions of different ways and only ending up ripping a few strands of my hair out. 

Now, I just missed my family. 

More like Koven, who I was worried about how he was right now, knowing that he thought I was dead. 

Holy shit, I'm dead to most of the world now...

Fun. 

I stared down at the constant passing cars, wishing I could be going full throttle down one of those streets right now. 

"You're quite small for an assassin," I snapped my head over to the door, my knife gripped in my hand as I look for the source of the voice. 

Inan Riccardo stood next to my door, which was wide-open, by the way, and was staring at me smugly as he took in my position. 

"I'm just flexible," I grumbled, turning away from him in hopes he'd walk out, but when the footsteps sounded closer, I groaned inwardly. 

"What do you want?" I asked, finding the plain gas station below me very interesting. 

"What makes you think I want something?" he speculates, and I now sense him by the bathroom as his footsteps halt. 

"Why would you be talking to me just because you want to?" I snap, finally turning my head to look at him. The guy who kind of fucked up my life a little stood there, looking serious as I asked my question. 

"Maybe I do, why do you care?" he smirks, causing me to mumble a curse under my breath as my patience runs thin. I knew he was just screwing with me at this point, so I continued spinning my knife and just pretended like he wasn't there. 

After about five minutes, I actually thought he might have left, but then he spoke again. 

"You like to read?" he questions, and I turn my head to see him picking up a few books I threw in the duffel bag last minute. He was leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door, a safe distance away. 

"Yes...even sociopaths like reading," I mutter, watching him flip through one of them. 

"I would know," he says, looking up at me. I can't help but let a grin line my lips at his words, weirdly finding something relatable about him. 

"You know, I should really hate all of you," I say, causing his brows to furrow, "we're basically in a blood feud, yet somehow I can talk to you without feeling like committing treason."

"I could say the same about you," he replies, nodding in understanding. He seemed like the type of guy to speak in riddles, and something about that made me want to punch him a few times. 

"Your father put a bad reputation on your family," Inan clarified, dropping the book back into the bag. I nodded understandingly, knowing that my father was extensively prideful in some of the things he did.