I kiss him, angling my head perfectly and running my hand along his spine. He moans in delight and I pull the trigger,

He falls to the ground, a scarlet puddle bleeding out around him.

I run out into the night, talking into my watch. "Done. The threat has been eliminated, but it won't be long before someone starts to ask. I need to be extracted, now."

"Agent Chase, we've sent an extraction package. Get to the highest ground you can and wait." Her voice is cool and collected and calm, unlike the mess of tight nerves and heavy guilt and settling dread I am.

Even so, I'm able to get a running start and leap up, grabbing onto the fire escape and pulling myself onto the metal platform. I scale the rest of the ladders and end up on the roof of an apartment building.

There's a taller building to my right, but I can't make that jump. Car horns honk below me and I take a deep breath. There are multiple handholds and footholds, and several window ledges. If I can't make the jump, I can at least climb.

I jump off the edge of the building and grab onto the cement window ledge, feeling rough rock scrape my fingers. Grunting, I pull myself up, legs kicking wildly, and reach out for a spot in the wall where a brick used to be.

Soon I'm on top of the building, surveying the city below me. People walk fast across the road, along the sidewalk. Teenage girls giggle and flip their hair and window-shop. Cars weave through the heavy traffic.

All normal people, living normal lives.

Like the man I killed. He might've been passing information to some sort of enemy country about us, but he was doing it for his daughter. His one-year-old daughter, who now has no father.

Because of me.

I swallow and turn away, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. Helicopter blades whir above me and I clamp my hands around my ears.

Grit and gravel and dust plume up as the helicopter lands. The door slides open and I step in, smoothing my short skirt and extending my bare legs. When I'm sent on a mission, I'm dressed as sexily as possible.

"Miss Chase," the pilot greets through the loudspeaker. "Welcome."

"Of course." I nod primly and fold my hands across my lap, ignoring the cold red liquid staining my index finger.

I've already killed more people than I can count.

This is just another one.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Another stark white folder glared at me, pale against the mahogany table. Octavian Militis, our leader, smiles coldly at me. "You did well on your assignment. I'd like you to take on another...stronger...enemy. Unless you're too tired from your last one, of course."

He had a way of talking that makes my skin crawl, and his challenge is silent but deadly. If you're not up for it, you lose your ranking and your mother dies.

"Of course." I swallow again, but my mouth is too dry and nothing goes down my throat. "I'll do it. May I open the file?"

"You'll have three days to prepare." Octavian's eyes flash dangerously. "Don't let me down."

I nod and pick up the folder, clutching it tightly to my chest and walking out of the room. My hips sway, an unconscious result of all these years seducing men to kill them, and I hurry to my room.

The last file is still sitting on my bed. I open it tenderly, carefully, and take out the picture. He has - had - brown hair, a square jaw, dark circles under his eyes (probably from worrying about his child) and his name is listed under the picture.

Blair Belayn.

I shut my eyes tightly and let a tear escape. I killed him without knowing his name.

Carefully, I tape his photo up on the wall and add a sticky note there, scrawling his name as neatly as I can manage it. He deserves a spot on my wall, even if I am the one who killed him.

A dozen other pictures are spread across my wall. There's a man with blonde hair and blue eyes, a man with a chiseled jaw and large dark eyes, a man with big ears and curly hair, a woman (that was a very interesting mission) with pale skin and long eyelashes.

All gone, because of me.

I bite back a lump in my throat and open the new file almost reverently, setting it on my desk. A tan-skinned man with dark hair and green eyes smirks at me, his eyes almost dancing with mischief.

This is who I have to kill?

The others were easier. They were nervous and forgettable (unless you killed them; then their faces are permanently etched in your memory) and they kissed me only once. This man looks like he would kiss me multiple times before I learned his name.

His name is Perseus Jackson.

I stifle a snort. Who names their child Perseus, of all things?

But then my urge to laugh fades, because I realize that in a week, this man will be dead, and I will be the one who killed him, and I will be the one who gave grief to his family and friends, and I will be the one who remembers him night after night, and I will be the one who had nightmares of him reaching out to me, blood gushing from his chest.

I know this because it's what happened with everyone I killed.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

My three days are up. Dressed in a form-fitting, short red dress and high black boots, my blonde hair up in a bun, I strut into the nightclub, winking at the bouncer, who lets me in without checking my ID.

I feel way too uncomfortable in here. I can see several people who are obviously teenagers with fake IDs, and other men who look depressed and are ordering drink after drink. My target, Perseus Jackson, is not among them.

He's sulking in the corner while a girl with pale skin, spiky dark hair, and bright blue is trying to get him onto the dance floor.

I walk over to them, making sure that my hips sway, and then I say, "Would you care to dance?" My voice is high and breathy and sexy, a voice I've been practicing over and over until I got it right.

He raises an eyebrow. "Your name, first?"

I bat my eyelashes and reply, "Sophia Schultz."

"Well, Sophia, I really hope you're not just trying to get me to dance 'cause you want a sex toy for the night and I look like the most appealing," Perseus winks. "But I'd rather you come to my house."

I bite my lip. Killing him in his own house is too much for me. But he's not going to accept anything else, so I nod and allow him to bring me out of club.

But I do make sure to keep my hand on his spine and walk as close to him as I can without practically melding into him. The dark-haired girl has stayed in the club, and Perseus's phone buzzes with a text message. He takes a look and I read over his shoulder.

Gonna stay in the club, have fun with your new date.

Perseus rolls his eyes and slides his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry, that's my cousin. Oh, here's my car." The car makes a clicking sound and the headlights flash. I walk around it and open the door, sitting in the passenger seat.

He's already in the driver's seat, his hand on the gear stick. I smile lustily at him and put my hand on his, waiting for his own smile and his hand gripping mine. But instead, he gives me a sarcastic look and pulls the stick, removing his hand and then pressing the gas.

Huh. He'll be harder to seduce than any of the other men.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

We pull up at a modest apartment building in a little over fifteen minutes. He opens his door and walks around to mine, opening it before I have the chance to and graciously helping me out.

I feel myself blush and I avert my gaze to the ground. None of the other men were as chivalrous. Then again, they were drunk out of their wits, so I shouldn't judge them too quickly.

"Well, Ms. Sophia, I'm just going to warn you that if you were here for a one-night stand, I had a movie marathon in mind," Perseus says, the side of his mouth pulling up in a little half-smirk. "So if you wanna go back to the club and look for a completely drunk guy who won't remember you tomorrow, I'll bring you back to the club."

Honestly, a movie marathon sounds better to me. The real me. But Sophia Schultz isn't the real me.

And then again, he is my target. So I smile back, a real, genuine smile, and say, "A movie marathon sounds better. And do you have anything I could change into?"

After the last sentence slips through my lips, I press my hand to my mouth. I've broken my golden rule, and that's to never ask them for anything.

But Perseus simply nods and leads me into the apartment building. We step into the elevator and Perseus presses the button for the 5th floor. When the elevator stops, he jogs down the hall, laughing under his breath, and gestures for me to hurry up and do the same.

I find myself giggling too as we race down the hall. My boots are high-heeled, and definitely not the best for running in, but when I trip Percy catches me, chuckling, and props me back up. "Don't fall again, Sophia."

When I look into his eyes, I feel nothing but a deep, dark, heavy dread. I'll have to kill this wonderful human being in a matter of hours.

But he continues laughing and stops in front of a door marked 528. He slips a key into the slot and then we're inside. His apartment is modest and warm, like a kindly old grandmother. There's a giant flatscreen TV opposite a sofa.

When I continue into the apartment and see the four-poster bed, it's surprising that I don't immediately try and get him to come with me onto the bed. Instead I think that the sofa is so much better and so much comfier.

The sound of popcorn popping echoes through the house and I wander into the kitchen to find Perseus with a big plastic green bowl and several packages of unpopped popcorn. He notices me and says, "Hey, would you pour some soda or water or whatever you want? Blue Cherry Coke for me please."

I wrinkle my nose. What's Blue Cherry Coke? But when I open the refrigerator, I see a bottle of shining blue liquid and a bottle of Sprite, and two bottles of Coke.

Normally, I would drink water, so I wouldn't feel too guilty about killing them later (I learned my lesson with the first mission, who offered me his mother's old antique necklace. I accepted), but something about Perseus makes me feel comfortable, and I pour myself a cup of Sprite and him a cup of the Blue Cherry Coke.

The microwave beeps and Percy puts in the second bag of popcorn, emptying the first into the green bowl. "Hey Sophia, would you keep an eye on this popcorn and come over when the bowl's full? I'll be looking for movies." I nod and Percy grins a lopsided grin at me before leaving. I hear the TV power on.

It's a minute of bored waiting before the microwave beeps again. I actually have to figure out how this microwave opens (mine at home had a handle, but his is the kind with the button that opens it) and then I pour the popcorn into the bowl, but not without singing several of my fingers.

Cursing under my breath, I put another bag of popcorn in the microwave and hesitate. What time did he set it for?

"Hey what time did you set it for?" I holler. Perseus replies, "Two minutes! And by the way, do you know my name?"

I mentally flip through the last hour. No, he demanded my name but never told me his. "No! What is it?"

"Oh my gods, have you been mentally calling me the guy from the club this whole time? I'm Percy!" he calls. "Percy Jackson!"

I want to tell him that I'm not Sophia Schultz, I'm Annabeth Chase. But telling the targets our full name is against the rules, and I've only survived this long by following the rules.

So I simply type in a minute and thirty seconds and watch the popcorn spin around and around.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Around ten minutes later, we're both on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between us, a coffee table pulled up so we can get to our drinks without too much hassle. Percy flips through movies on demand and when I see Harry Potter, I cry, "That one!"

He laughs and presses a button on the remote. "All 7 Harry Potters? I tried this a few weeks ago and only got through four."

"We'll get through them all!" I say adamantly.

He laughs again and the movie starts to play. I snuggle into the couch and reach over for some popcorn.

He reaches over at the same time. Our hands touch and we both blush and look down, like two hormone-y teenagers who have crushes on each other but can't admit it. Of course, I don't have a crush on him. His blushing is simply making me blush.

Right?

Whatever the reason, Percy forgets about his hand on mine and is enraptured in the letters flying all around the Dursley's home. I'm about to pull my hand away, but he clasps it and uses his other hand to stuff a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

I feel myself smile, a soft, small smile that hasn't graced my lips in years, and I also feel my dread harden into a giant lump of guilt, settling in my stomach.

Because even though I promised to finish all 7 Harry Potter's, Percy won't be able to survive one.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He falls asleep around the middle of the fifth movie, muttering sleepily and resting his head on the back of the sofa. His hand is still holding mine and I gently pull mine away.

He twitches and mumbles something I can't make out.

With a swallow, I pull my gun out of my tight waist and and aim it at his head.

My finger tightens on the trigger.

But I can't.

My gun begins to tremble as I squeeze my eyes shut and look away. My finger gets even tighter around the trigger, and I know that one last push and it'll all be over. For him and for me.

He rolls over, snoring, as the fifth Harry Potter plays on. Now it's Harry's vision of Sirius that fills the screen.

I can't.

I have to.

I can't.

I HAVE TO.

ican'tbutihaveto.

do i?

My thoughts are jumbled and worried. If Percy isn't dead in two days, Octavian kills my mother and me. If he isn't dead in two days, he lives his life like he was supposed to. If he isn't dead in two days, I don't get to live mine.

I slip the gun back into the waistband of my dress. Maybe tomorrow. All I know is that for now, while he sleeps and while I cram the last of the popcorn in my mouth, I simply can't pull the trigger.

It'll be easier tomorrow.

It has to be.