Chapter 1

SANGO

Watching the blood pouring from his neck onto the plastic with the lifeless look in his eyes isn’t the first I have seen. I’ve witnessed many men's lives evaporate from their eyes due to the consequences of trying to take her out. I just couldn’t have that. Standing in her foyer under the dim light, admiring her precision when it comes to slicing someone's throat, I take a quick look around to make sure there are no blood splatters on the wall. 

 “How long before he is gone?” she asks getting out of the shower with an annoyed look on her face. “Five minutes tops”, I reply as I quickly put my gloves on.  I can smell the sweet undertones of jasmine scent in the air. Standing over the lifeless body, I kneel to check every pocket for identification, keys, or a phone. “This nigga reeks of Newports and Bud Light”, I thought to myself. After finding a burner cellphone and a set of Audi keys, I hand them to her and watch as she walks over to place them in her safe. “We will deal with this tomorrow, I need to get dressed now”, she says. “I gotchu”, I reply.  Grabbing my tool bag, I take my tools and proceed to break all his major joints and fold him up like a spade's table. I wrap the body up in plastic while using the silent vacuum to suck the air out, I leave to dispose of him. 

 Cleaning up after her kills is a task that blurs the lines between loyalty and complicity. Each covert operation or simple attempt at her life leaves a residue that only I can wipe away, erasing any trace of her involvement.

 I would do this a million times for her, with no hesitation and not a second thought. Her magnetic pull delves into the shadows where danger lurks. There's an unspoken understanding between us, a silent agreement that transcends the ordinary duties of my position. I've become her confidant, the keeper of secrets darker than the night that blankets this city. My nights are filled with the echoes of silenced footsteps and the whispers of a city that never sleeps. I navigate the delicate balance between my professional responsibilities and the alliance with Ms. Black. The secrets we share weave a web that binds us together in a dance of danger and desire.

MS BLACK

“Being a target is one of the most romantic things in life’s play. It always reminds you who the main character is. I can choose to stand still and be consumed or enjoy the dance with death.”

-MS BLACK

 Four-thirty three ante meridiem.

I’m up when the majority of the city is unconscious. A time when the world is recharging itself ready to take on another day.

Sitting at the edge of my king-size bed, in a Presidential suite, gazing out at the beautiful city of New York, I can’t help but think of him.

Wrapped in my favorite all-black silk robe by MOYE, the mulberry silk felt like butter to my skin. I can smell the scent of my favorite Clive Christian perfume. My hands placed softly beside me sinking into the plush duck-down duvet while the sounds of Anita Baker's ‘’You Belong To Me” begin to play over my Bluetooth speaker. Tilting my head to the right, slowly lifting my left leg as my robe slides off revealing my beautiful brown skin. As a woman, catering to myself is of the highest importance; not just for myself, but for the seduction. It’s about the mastery of the art of sensuality and control. I prioritize the meticulous care of my hygiene as a form of self-respect and empowerment. In the realm of love, I find myself deeply infatuated with the woman I've become, valuing my independence and strength above any man.

Admiring my soft skin, and freshly washed hair, lightly moisturized with jasmine oils, as it falls down the middle of my back, I can’t help but admire myself.

Taking me out of my daze, a light breeze from the balcony flows through my robe and travels up my body, relaxing me. Who knew the wind could be so sensual? I cherished this time to myself. No man could ever give me this feeling. I’m deeply in love with who I am but tonight was the night I treated myself to a romantic evening and fall in love all over again. I made sure everything was perfect. From the matte black Casa Bugatti silverware set to the all-black three-foot candles spread throughout my entire suite, which I requested weeks prior. Black rose petals covering my suite's entire black-marbled floor have me walking through a sea of beautiful blackness. The black bedding, curtains, furniture even the black Bentley that brought me here, and my black bodyguard outside my suite, Sango, who is thoroughly trained in Judo and Kali, complement me well.

A knock at the door from Sango takes me out of my zone. “It is time,” he says. I take a deep breath and walk across the room to take one last look at myself in the ceiling-to-floor mirror before I proceed to the door. As I exit my room, Sango kneels and places my shoes on my feet. I slide into my favorite pair of Christian Louboutin's black thigh-high leather heels.

“Is he ready?” I ask. “Yes”, Sango responds. I put my hood on that is attached to my floor-length robe and we head downstairs.

 My mind buzzed with the symphony of secrets as I stepped out of the opulent hotel's discreet back entrance. Moving with the grace of a panther, I allowed the night air to calm me. Looking to my left, I notice four vanta black escalades driven by some of the most dangerous assassins whose names and lives don’t even exist to the government, that will be accompanying us on our travels, I smile at the level of security he surrounds me with.

Holding the door open to my bulletproof masterpiece is my driver O’Run; “Wah gwan mi Queen” he says in his thick Jamaican accent. I stop, nod my head with a pleasant smile, and enter the car. Slipping into the plush leather seats, I felt the cool embrace of the car's interior, a sanctuary from the world outside. The door closed with a muted thud, sealing me in a cocoon of confidentiality. The engine hummed to life, a mechanical purr that mirrored the duality of my existence.

Setting my black crocodile Birkin Bag next to me on the leather seat, I take a moment to inhale…then exhale. Leaning back,  I let my mind wander through the events from the previous day. My plan succeeded flawlessly. It took shape in the form of futuristic high-tech assassin technology that I had discovered in the dark corners of the internet. With the finesse of a puppeteer pulling invisible strings, I orchestrated a counterplot to thwart the impending attack on my life. Surveillance cameras, concealed within the elegant decor outside of my penthouse building, tracked the movements of the disguised assailants, but only one I allowed to reach my door. He had the information I needed.
As the clock ticked to the critical moment, I activated a series of non-lethal countermeasures. A tap of a button from Greg, triggered the silent alarms that alerted Sango of their presence, ensuring he was prepared. High-frequency sound waves disrupted their communication devices, leaving the three men disoriented and vulnerable.

When the three disguised assassins stepped into the elevator, thinking they had the upper hand, they were met with a surprise. The elevator doors closed, and the journey they expected turned into a high-tech trap. The elevator's futuristic security system immobilized the assailants, rendering them powerless. I watched the cameras from my foyer, patiently waiting for the leader to make his way to my door. I watched as he approached the hand sensor and used his tools to think he dismantled it, but of course, I gave him a little help by disabling the alarm. After hearing the beep he carefully opened my door and walked into a cloud of Devil’s Breath.