They say when you're about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. In my case, the images that appeared before me weren't of my life, but the countless lives I ended.

How many people have I sent falling to their deaths? How many people have I tossed coldly to their demise because I was being paid to do so? How many people have I sent to meet their maker because that was what I was raised to do?

The amount of those I killed were enough to fill an auditorium. But I didn't see their faces. They were all blocked out like shadows behind hoods. The only face I saw was that of my brother Noa, who stared at me disappointed. I only thought of his voice in my dream. "You're not strong Zay. If you were, this room would've been empty."

I've made mistakes, but if I didn't do my job, I would've ended up being beaten, tortured, or disowned. The life of luxury had its costs, even if I was born into it. I'd rather be a normal girl who's only concern was about what Netflix show to watch next or what dress not to wear to the prom. But I couldn't choose the murderous family I was born into.

My family was responsible for so much chaos. If the amount of people I killed could fill a school's auditorium, then the amount of bodies on my family's tab could fill an entire college football stadium. No one in my family deserved a happy death—especially me.

"You can fix this Zay," I heard Noa's voice.

I saw flashes of him falling in front of me. His hand extended forward for me to grab. "Do what I failed to do. Use your talents to finish off the right people."

But how could I finish off the right people if I'm dead? Who are even the right people to assassinate? I thought.

"Deep down," he stretched his hand closer for me to grab. "You know the answer."

I fought the raging wind, pushing my hand out to grab onto him. If I died and ended up with Noa, even if that was in Hell, I felt like I could live a satisfactory afterlife.

When I latched onto his hand I gasped as if I had just surfaced from water. My eyesight was blurry. The rush of a cold wind blew the false red wig off of my head and it floated down fifteen stories below. I was dangling with a single hand latched onto another.

I looked up and my vision slowly returned to me. My heart was a jet turbine at maximum speed. The face I saw looked scared and anxious. It wasn't Noa's. Noa's skin wasn't that dry or gray.

Dangling from a wire while ropes of veins bulged across his body was Ash.

"Grab the rope," he gritted through his teeth.

I snapped myself back into reality. I latched my hands around the wire and steadied my breath. Ash was trying to do the same. He looked down at me with the moonlight shining upon him. Sweat glistened his face. His right hand was bleeding from cable burn. He probably slid down a couple of feet after he managed to somehow catch me while falling.

I would hug him if we weren't dangling fifteen stories from doom.

Ash was wheezing as he spoke. "So, what was that about not falling?"

And now he was back to being annoying. "Shut up," I said, trying to reclaim a sense of dignity. "I need to finish those guys up there. But, why are you even here?"

He looked like he wanted to shock me but knew that might end up wasting the effort he just exercised to save me. "Talking to the doorman got boring. So I decided to give your scaling method a try."

"And the rope?"

"I might have borrowed a rope gun while you were changing in your room. But it came in handy. Now, are we going to talk, or are we going to beat up the people that tried to kill you?"

I didn't argue. We scaled up the rope like it was a simple exercise in gym class. Ash made it look easy, even while he was struggling with his burned and bloody right hand. Once we neared the ledge of the 20th floor window, we overhead the guard who tossed me out the window bragging.

"She was as light as a feather. Tossing her was like dropping a penny. So easy."

I felt Ash grip the rope tighter after hearing that. Once he was by the ledge. He whistled like a bird.

The goon who tried to murder me stepped over the edge to look down. With a flick of the wrist, Ash sent him tumbling down behind me. The goon took the route I was taking earlier to the afterlife before Ash provided a detour back to the land of the living. Sadly, the goon didn't have an Ash to save him.

"What the hell!" I heard someone above yell. Ash pulled himself over the ledge and disappeared into the apartment. I heard gunshots. My heart was going to join the fallen goon and commit suicide by leaping out of my chest.

"Ash!" I shouted, climbing faster to get into the apartment. PTSD triggered tears to fall down my face. It was a gunshot that ended Noa's life. Please, if there is a God, don't let it happen to Ash.

I got inside and pulled out a knife. But I found Ash standing upon two fallen goons who were taking a nap while he was dismantling their pistols.

"Took care of them for you Zay," he said with his hands and voice shaking as he broke apart the pistols. "Your welcome."

All that was left was the woman, who sat casually on the couch drinking her wine. "So...Remi sent two of you brats."

I usually don't let contracts get personal. But considering this girl nearly killed me and her goons could've killed Ash, this got a whole lot more personal.

"If you hadn't been so rebellious," I spat at her. "I would've given you a choice between the following three options. Option one," I looked back over the open window. "We see if you can fly."

The lady took another sip of her wine glass only to find it empty. She stood up to try and refill it, but I was on her like white on rice. "Option two," I pressed the knife under her chin. "I cut you a thousand times and only stop at the number that finally kills you."

"Such originality," she burped.

"Option three," I said, pulling back and seeing a glass cabinet with souvenir shot glasses from different countries. I pulled one out from Germany, another from Australia, and a third from China. Then I took out three thermos of the same color and poured the content into each glass, all different shades of color. One coffee black, another raspberry red, and a third lime green. "Since you like to drink so much, I'd let you pick a shot. Two of these are poisoned and will kill you in seconds. One isn't."

Then I knocked all the shot glasses off the table, spilling the content onto the carpet and holding the knife back under her chin. "But you almost killed me. And that means I get to choose how you die now."

"Uh, Zay," Ash squeaked from behind me, totally ruining the mood I set. "Can't we offer her a fourth option? Like letting her go?"

Ash had jokes. I laughed at his proposal. It was like he was asking me to let a roach get away instead of ending its disgusting life.

But Ash wasn't smiling. His body was shaking as if the temperature had dropped in the room. His eyes were red. His skin shone silver with the moonlight grazing in from the open window.

"You can't be serious," I said. "This girl tried to kill me."

"But," Ash stuttered. "Weren't you going to do the same to her?"

"Of course!" I shouted. "That's my job."

"Is it?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and tightened my grip around the knife. "You didn't tag along just to give me a lecture on morals. I don't need that right now. Now be quiet so I can finish her."

"You don't have to listen to them Zay."

"To them? You think I'm hearing voices or something?" My chest was pounding. I just wanted to finish this lady before any more goons showed up.

But Ash was not making it easier. "To your family Zay. To the Reapers. To the Devil puppeteer that is controlling your strings. The lady had every right to defend herself."

"By tossing a 12-year-old girl out the window!"

Ash shuddered. "Zay, you can stop this. You don't have to be a murderer tonight."

"Yeah, like you," I said off the cuff.

Ash was silent. I thought I finally said something to shut him up. But all I heard were sobs. "Don't you think I know that?"

Then it dawned on me. This was Ash's first kill and his first intentional kill. He had both incidents on the same night. My first kill was by mistake. My first intentional kill was much like Ash's—born from anger and adrenaline.

The only calming advice I could give him was this: "It gets easier from here."

Ash shook his head and stared at his hands as if they were stained in invisible blood. "But it shouldn't."

There was an intense stare down between us. He was a wreck, eyes red from regret. I was intact, eyes red with anger.

Then the girl before me mumbled something that broke the silence and sealed her fate. "So are you gonna kill me or what? Because I have to pee."

I used my free hand to take out a random thermos from my bag. "Option 4," I said loud enough for Ash to hear. "Pray I choose the drink that isn't poisonous."

Then, like trying to shove medicine down a child's throat, I funneled the content of the thermos into the woman's mouth, forcing her to swallow it. She struggled but failed.

I stood back and waited for the results to unfold.

But I know without a doubt what the outcome would be.