Stockholm Syndrome

Prologue

“HERE IS THE FILE.” MY FATHER SAID, tossing the folder onto the cold metal desk. The room was filled with a thick tension and my body felt weighed down by the guilt of all the previous cases that resurfaced whenever a new one would be assigned. I stared down at the pale cream folder that was only a finger tips distance away.

“Why can't Andrew take this one? I'm tired of being the only one doing this, ever going out and putting in the leg work.” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His thick salt and pepper eyebrows drew together in a frown and his jaw tensed at my sudden attitude.

“Stop acting as though you are the only one ever doing this job! Tons of our family have lost their lives or ended up in prison to support us!” He shouted, making me flinch away. “Now, stop acting like a damn spoiled brat and take the assignment.”

We both stared at each other, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, jaws tensed. I didn't want to give up the fight, but I knew that if I were to continue arguing I would find myself in the box. That was the one place where I could not go. So, sucking in a rather large amount of air that made me feel like a puffer fish, I snatched the folder up from the desk in front of me. I gave one last glare at him with my icy green eyes before opening the file and letting my eyes scan over it.

The picture, I'd already known, had been skillfully taken by Justin, our spy photographer. It showed that he was around the age of sixteen, definitely involved in a sport, making me guess football. He had looks that could make all of the girls come running at him with just a simple glance and it looked as though her new this by the way he portrayed himself.

I could tell that he was cocky and egotistical just by the picture itself. With the sly smirk his face was adorning as he talked to whoever the girl was in the picture beside him. He was just screaming player and that made my some of my guilt just drift away into blackness.

Who knows how many girls heart's he has broken, I thought to myself, maybe I'll be doing someone a favor. Maybe it was a good thing I was getting paid to make him disappear.

I pushed the picture aside and studied the back ground check. It listed his birthplace, parent's names, siblings first job, and even his very first report card. I wouldn't be surprised if the name of his first pet goldfish was in their as well, that's how good our sources were.

His name was Aiden Michaels. He was sixteen, like I'd guessed. Played football. His family was rich but only because they cheated the father out of the money and had gotten him thrown into jail. He has had a number close to twenty-five girlfriends in the past year in a half. He's partied and cheated. Slept around and played almost every girl he could find. He was the school's most prized possession and everyone loved him.

All except the one who's paying us.

“How much are they offering us to do this?” I asked, looking at the picture once more. Sure, he was attractive but definitely wasn't my type. We he wouldn't be if I actually had a type.

“Four million.”

“Holy shit.” I gasped, suddenly choking on my own spit. That's the most anyone had ever paid us, ever. “They must really want him gone, huh?”

“More than we could possibly know. But that isn't our business. We worry about getting the job done and getting the money, that's our business.” Dad said, and I sighed, closing the folder and sliding it towards him.

“I'll do it...” I said, and watched as his eyes lit up like a kids did when they opened presents on Christmas morning. “But.” His face had already fallen. “Only if this can be my last one. I want half the money we've ever made so I can start my life with a fresh and clean start.”

“Absolutely not.” He snapped.

“Just think about it, Dad. I'm an attractive girl and he seems to have a taste for that. I could trick him into falling for me, make him trust me, and then we capture and kill. Simple as that. And we both know that Austin isn't going to be able to do as good of a job, like me. I'm only asking for these few things and my freedom. Dad, I need you to do this for me.” I pressed and at first it looked as though he were going to say no. But after a while of him copulating he let out a long sigh.

“Fine.” He muttered. “You'll get what you want as long as you get the job done.” He added.

“Then we have a deal.” I smiled and snatched the file up with joy. “Mr. Michaels will be gone within two weeks.”

“He better or the deal is off, Scar.” Dad said before leaving the room. I looked back down at the picture of the now open file. Guilt washed over me once more. I'd just negotiated a mans life for my freedom. But in doing this, you'll never have to kill another person again after him. One last kill, and then freedom.