Chapter 8 - Devil's weakness

Cass always felt at home surrounded by darkness. She sat in her living room, her tux jacket draped over the chair's back, her shirt collar unbuttoned and her sleeves rolled up. Her arms draped over the chair arms, and a half glass of whiskey dangled from her right hand. The fire blazed in front of her as she stared at the dancing flames. All her life she'd had to fight. She'd been trained from the age of six, to fight, to defend. She'd been honed by some of the best and her skills were that of a highly trained assassin. She scoffed and took a sip of the warm liquid. Maybe if she'd become an assassin her life would be simpler. She would never know the true meaning of feeling at peace. She shook her head this time she downed the rest of the whiskey and reached over to fill the glass again. She was lying to herself about that. For a brief moment, all too brief moments, she'd felt peace.

Olivia. The woman was asleep in her bedroom, in her bed. The one place she could feel completely at