They all had leg bracelets on, but she had to rotate them out of the cells, because she and Allen could only handle two of them at once. Allen always sat at the side of the room and was well prepared to shoot them dead in the forehead if they did anything nefarious.

Donovan was already up in his room, comfortably avoiding everyone in the house. That man had been easier to read than a book after she'd lived with him for a few weeks. He was just a disgruntled parent who thought the rest of the men here were monsters, and he wasn't wrong. Still, he had killed to protect someone, so he wasn't going to harm her for no reason, and she'd released him from the ankle monitor much sooner than she could the other three.

Today, she had Ian in the cell. The man was unbearable to deal with. All he did was argue, ignore everything she said, and on occasion, break something just to piss her off. Ian would just laugh the whole god damn time like this was the biggest joke of his entire life.

It sure was for her.

Tanner was sitting across the room with his arms crossed in the corner. Unlike Ian and Rick, he was terribly shy. All he did was hide himself in a corner when she let him out, and if she asked him to do anything, he did it. It was still questionable to her why he was doing so. If it was a ruse, it was a good one, because Maggie felt his meekness full force. It didn't seem faked.

This was the first time she'd allowed Rick out of his cage. The man had been here for three weeks, and she'd made a terrible mistake with him. It angered her every time she looked at him, because his face had Josef plastered all over it.

Worn out from choosing the first four tenants for this project she'd been lax on picking the last. This man had been an excellent con. With excellent behavior and inconsistencies in several of his trials, she'd accepted him without meeting him first.

She couldn't very well send him back now.

If one of them went, they all did.

Rick was playing with a small glass bowl she'd had on the table, smiling pleasantly, on occasion glancing over to her. The frowns she was beaming at him were more the indicative that his façade was not fooling her. The man was such a god damn gentlemen that it sickened her.

"Come on, Maggie." Rick laughed, and it was infectious. With that horrible expression, he'd been marauding her with jokes, compliments, and stories to entertain her since she'd brought him from the transport into his cell. "Why won't you just admit you like me?"

Rick flashed her a smile with his damn perfect teeth. They came with a smooth pair of grey eyes that shined blue in the right light. They contrasted with the gold chocolate of his meticulously styled but short hair. The man spent more time making himself look attractive than most women she knew.

That was how he'd lured women in to brutalize, rape, and murder them.

How had she messed up in choosing him?

At the time, she'd just wanted Allen to get off of her back and she might not have been paying full attention. All she had wanted was to get away from the stack of files of men who she wanted to kill.

Rick sauntered toward her, and her eyes snapped up to him and his god damn smile he had plastered on his face. Offering her a hand, as if she was supposed to accept it and be pulled into his arms, he cast a glittering gaze toward her, but she remained still and glared at him.

"Rick, your act doesn't fool me," Maggie said, and it caused his expression to falter. She'd been listening to his crap for weeks and had allowed him to continue, interested in how much she could glean from him.

She was well past done with that.

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Rick said, and there it was, the crack in his mask.

His smile twitched and his eyes darkened. It was the look of a man who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and was now trying to come up with a story that would maintain his innocence.

"You're a con artist, Rick. All you have going for you is looks. Your soul is black as tar."

His smile fall to an angry scowl immediately. In that moment of satisfaction at breaking a bit of him down, she dropped her guard. The blow across her face startled her, and she stumbled, but steadied herself, touching her cheek where it stung.

That piece of fucking shit had slapped her.

"You want to be a bitch, we can do that too." Rick sneered at her. For a moment, her gaze drifted toward Allen, and his pallor whitened as red blinded her.

Rick was a narcissist who thought women were toys and harmless, so he never saw her coming. Making sure to incapacitate him, she threw her knuckles into his throat and he hit the ground. Wheezing in agony, he struggled as she planted him. There, she wrenched his dominant arm into a useless sausage. Dislocating a shoulder did that, and she didn't want to have to deal with him anymore

She wanted him dead.

Somewhere there was noise, but she wasn't sure where all of it originated.

Allen was yelling at her to stop, but the feel of her blade slicing into Rick's flesh gave her a euphoria she'd craved for far too long. Rick let out whistling gasps where she was sure there would be screams if the man could, especially when he flailed too hard and she jammed her hand into his dislocated shoulder.

The piece of shit was of normal size for a man and easy to subdue. It was only after Allen grabbed her from behind and hauled her off of Rick that it fully registered what she'd been doing. Struggling in Allen's grasps, she was unable to free herself. He had his arms under hers and his hands locked behind her head.

Stuck like that, she growled in aggravation until she managed to look at her own hands. Staring at them, the dark color smearing them registered and they started to shake. Looking down to Rick, he was laying on the carpet, whining and shaking like a small animal.

Blood smeared his clothes and he clutched his shoulder in agony. The man was staring at her with terror and disbelief, but it didn't last long. Rick passed out quite quickly, and Allen released her.

"You were going to kill him!" Allen hissed at her, and she looked to him with the emptiest emotion she'd felt since she'd escaped from Josef.

"Yes," Maggie said with an aggravated sigh that she'd failed.

It occurred to her then that Tanner was still there, and she whipped her gaze over to him to see if he was having any ideas about starting anything. The man let out a ragged breath and hit the floor on his knees, surprising her.

"I'll go back to my cell." Tanner laced his fingers behind his head and flinched back from her. "Please, don't hurt me."

It tugged on something in her heart, hearing him beg like that. It was something that should have been there–shame. This man could overpower her, but Allen would shoot him to either incapacitate him or kill him far before he could manage to hurt her.

But still.

The look in his eyes wasn't of a defeated killer who was just waiting for that one opportunity to pounce on her. It was that of a broken man who just wanted to live.

"The piece of shit needs medical attention," Maggie said to Allen, turning from Tanner. "Take him to his cell and call our medical staff in." Allen paused, eyeing Tanner. "Grab Ian while you're down there. I don't want to waste the time I have just tossing them back into the cells and doing nothing today. I'm sick of it as it is."

Allen frowned, but scooped up Rick and headed for the elevator. They only ever used it when someone was being dragged downstairs or unconscious. Maggie turned back to Tanner and he was still on the ground on his knees, though he jerked back from her gaze.

"Sit on the couch or something," Maggie hissed and Tanner complied.

The man stood, but took a wide arc before sitting on the furthest couch cushion from where she was standing. With no interest in the man, she looked back to the carpet. There was blood in it, and if she didn't get it out they would have to redo the carpeting.

Sighing, she headed into the kitchen, unlocked the cleaning supplies, and washed her hands and face off. When she returned to the living room, Tanner was still there, watching her with wary eyes. Did the man really think she was going to snap at him?

What did she care?

Allen returned upstairs after she'd finished with the carpet, but he did not bring Ian. Instead, he stopped in front of her where she'd parked on a recliner. By the look in his eyes, she knew he was going to start lecturing her, and she didn't want to hear it. Allen took up position in front of her, putting his back to Tanner, which for him was significant.

"What?" Maggie demanded as she glared.

"Maggie. You can't keep running the penitentiary this way." Allen growled in annoyance.

"I didn't want to run it at all," Maggie snapped, and Allen sighed.

"Well, it was going to be run by someone, so I figured someone closer would be better."

"So what am I doing wrong? Am I not nice enough to the convicted killers, rapists, and sociopaths?" Maggie smirked, but it only tightened Allen's frown.

"You could start by treating them like they're human." Allen spat the word, gesturing toward Tanner, who flinched in the corner he was hiding in. "I don't like them either, in fact they quite terrify me in a manner they don't you, but you can't keep treating them like they're animals. Try speaking to them, give them their personal effects that they brought here, and stop acting like you're any different."

Allen was pissed.

The man left her there with Tanner and headed for the downstairs. The medic came in about ten minutes later and shuffled downstairs like they usually did. All the while, she sat in angry silence. For a few minutes, she headed up to the second floor and changed her shirt. With all the blood on it, it reminded her of her time with Josef, and she didn't like that. Only a little bit had soaked through to her skin and she wiped it off, as she did her face before she slipped into a loose T-shirt.

On her way back down, she slid into the room that was supposed to belong to Tanner whenever he was removed from the ankle monitor. It was empty of everything but a bed, a fridge, a dresser, and of course a bathroom. The sheets had gathered dust since she'd gotten here, so they'd have to be cleaned soon, but there was a box of his things and a neatly pressed and folded jacket that was wrapped in plastic, along with a hat that was equally wrapped.

Touching them with her fingers, she did wonder just what these things meant to him. The man had brought so little with him. Only one coat, a hat, and a whole ton of knives. Maggie lifted one out of the box. They each had their own elegantly designed sheath of leather that attached to a different holder that was worn around the body.

They were skinny and flat, though larger than what she used. Maggie used slim, concealable knives that were deadly sharp and meant for slicing to arteries, not gouging someone with. The ones Tanner had looked like they were throwing knives, with no visible hilt, but they were well cared for. Grabbing a small strap with two in them and his coat and hat, she headed back to the living room.

Still where she'd left him, Tanner was leaning on one of his arms, but his eyes were closed. Moving silently was one of her skills and Tanner looked exhausted, his eyes dark and hollowed even closed.

Maybe she had been treating the men here poorly.

Setting his things by the bottom of the stairs, she slid over to him as if he were one of her marks, the ones she'd killed after she'd left Josef. Those she hadn't slept with, or lured, merely waited in darkness until the right moment to slit their throats. In this way, it was easy to make it to his side without alerting him to her presence. It was dim, so she didn't even cast a shadow in front of him. They had yet to turn the lights on from the setting sun, and she looked over Tanner.

If she frightened him, he might break her neck, so instead she just spoke.

"Do you hate me?" Maggie was curious. Expecting her voice to at least startle him, Tanner merely opened his eyes slightly where they were lowered to the carpet.

"No," Tanner said, but he didn't provide any further information.

"I don't communicate well with men," Maggie said with a sigh, and Tanner chuckled. It made her angry. She tried to contain it.

"I can see that," Tanner said, glancing up to her, his tired eyes a bit brighter than she remembered them. "If you have issues communicating with people, try to find something you have in common with them and start there. Even if you think there is nothing, you will find something if you try hard enough."

"Do you regret killing any of them?" Maggie asked flatly, and Tanner chuckled again, though very quietly.

"One," Tanner said with a wide smile, but then it fell away. "You?"

Maggie glared at him. "I do not. Though I regret not being able to kill someone. Someone got to them before me."

"I also regret not being able to kill someone, but they're still around I hear. See, we have something in common," Tanner said the words nervously to her, and his hand shook when he lifted it from the couch.

"You are afraid of me," Maggie said, and Tanner shrugged.

"I'm waiting," Tanner said, though again, he didn't elaborate.

"For what?" Maggie ground her teeth, aggravated that she had to ask.

"For you to snap at me." Tanner rubbed the back of his neck, and she sighed.

Walking over to his stack of things she came back with his two knives and set them on the table. They drew his attention and he sat up immediately, as if preparing to protect himself.

"Show me how you use these," Maggie said, flopping on the couch next to him.

Glancing at the knives and then back to the table, his hands remained firmly on his lap.

"Are you refusing?" Maggie threatened, and a small whine escaped his throat. Tanner really did sound like a kicked animal quite well.

"I'd rather be unarmed, if it's okay with you. I don't want to encourage either you or your companion to harm me." Tanner was hesitant, and she let out another ashamed breath. Removing one of her knives, she placed it on his thigh and his skin whitened.

"Relax, it's not the one I just plugged Rick full of holes with. I left that one in a bucket in the locked chemicals cabinet. It needs to be washed. I'm trying to find common ground here, like you said. What do you think of my knives?"

Very hesitantly, Tanner picked it up and looked at it, twirling it in front of his face. It was slim like his, though much smaller, and there was a small spot on the knives that stopped her hand, though she wouldn't exactly call it a hilt.

"This would be like a splinter if you stuck it in me. No wonder you can't win in a fight against me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maggie bristled, and it caused him to quickly place her knife on the table and crunch closer to the armrest and away from her.

"It's an assassin's weapon. You're fast, skinny, and built to kill in a second, but only if your opponent doesn't see you coming. It's not much of a weapon if your opponent is also armed and just as skilled as you are, or more so. You need to get to an artery or a key muscle. I saw how you disabled Rick when you took him down."

"So you're saying you're more skilled than I am?"

"Yes." Tanner smiled nervously.

"You spend your life killing people?" Maggie asked pointedly, but Tanner shook his head.

"No. I'm an entertainer."

"Come again?" Maggie's voice tilted in an awkward upward manner.

Tanner full on laughed, shaking the couch, and she blushed in embarrassment.

Word count: 2879 -- Edited July 14th, 2020