Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy. Though I wish I did. All rights go to Richelle Mead.

"Liss, you know I'd be there if I could. They really got me by the balls here at the office, I have a deadline. Alberta will be up my ass if I don't land this account. I'll make it up to you, I promise." Her exasperated sigh was a clear sign that I wasn't about to be forgiven anytime soon, not that I expected to be. Though, deep down, a part of me was silently pleading and hoping for her to just understand.

"Of course you can't. You know what, Rose, forget it. I shouldn't have expected anything from you, even though you promised me. Just like you promised you'd be at my venue tours, and my florist appointment, and my meeting with the planner, and my designer consultation." I cringed at that.

I've missed that much stuff these last few months? Shit. Way to go, Rose.

"Lissa-"

"No, Rose. Like I said, forget it. Don't worry since you're so busy, maybe I'll just find someone else to be my maid of honor. So much for a best friend." And with that, it was just me and the dial tone. My chest tightened the longer her words lingered.

So much for a best friend.

Of course I knew she only said that out of hurt and anger, but that made it no less painful. I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. No time to dwell on it now, I had a job to do. During our conversation I'd never taken my eye off my scope, but in my brief state of vulnerability I'd allowed him to escape my sight. Didn't take long to find him screwing with his secretary on his desk. Victor Dashkov. Billionaire drug smuggler. I'd been following him for some time now figuring out his daily patterns, movements and contacts. Though most of it consisted of fucking anything old enough to be his daughter and shooting half his own supply. I felt pity for the man. He was around 35, but going on 60 with the amount of wrinkles in his face and grey hair. His cheeks were incredibly sunken, and I could tell from how loose his button-up hung on his shoulders and arms that he had lost even more weight these past few months. He looked like a walking corpse. But, shooting your body weight in coke up your arm on top of having a deadly disease can do that to you, I guess.

Time to get this over with.

I stared down my scope and lined the crosshairs up with my shot. Taking a deep breath, I pulled the trigger and watched with great satisfaction as the bullet barreled toward its new home between Victor's eyes. Blood painted the back wall of the office, and his lifeless body collapsed on top of the girl. She was definitely going to need some therapy. I smirked at another job well done and made my way down to the car waiting for me, careful not to step in the puddles that were starting to accumulate from the few guards I had to take out before getting a good shot on Victor. Apparently, someone tipped them off that I was coming...from the opposite direction. He had snipers waiting for me. I chuckled humorlessly at the irony of him expecting to get me, but in the end being taken out by his own hired gun. But, he did save me the trouble of carrying my own M82 up to the roof however, so I was grateful for his fuck up. But, immediately the guilt from disappointing Lissa, again, had returned to plague me. Though seeing an all too familiar silver smile did ease some of it.

"Pavel, you have no idea how good it is to see you! I hope you brought the usual, cause I'm in desperate need of a pick-me-up." He said nothing, but walked over to the passenger seat of the car and returned with a brown rectangular box I could spot miles away.

"Donuts!" I squealed launching myself at him in a hug and planting a huge, wet kiss oh his cheek. He hated when I did that, but I didn't care. I was used to the routine by now, but round, fried dough topped with icing always managed to bring the happy kid out in me. And Pavel was like an uncle to me, so I appreciated it all that much more. He's been my dad's personal bodyguard, confidant, and best friend for years. He wasn't really involved with the business, but my dad trusted him with everything. I'd known him since I was very little, but he was just a scary guy my dad kept around all the time then. And, one day he ended up with some bad people thanks to his affiliation with my father. They tortured him for days on end, but he refused to betray us. In fact, he helped my father kill the same men who tortured him and then some. It's still a mystery to me how he escaped, he never wanted to tell me claiming 'a magician never reveals his secrets', but I never doubt his loyalty or importance to our family. That is how he got his "silver smile" as I call it. Getting most of his teeth pulled out was part of the torture, so he had to get implants. He chose silver cause, "Gold is too flashy. I'm a man of simple tastes." As a child it creeped me out a little, but now I think it adds a certain character to him. I'd trust him with my life. Things I couldn't talk to my father about, which was practically everything, I confided in Pavel.

"Whatever it takes to see that smile. Though you could've spared me the kiss. Your father is waiting to speak to you." A slight spark of hope rose, but it was quickly extinguished when he opened the car door for me. Empty. Of course.

"Kizim." My father's voice spoke through the car speakers. The name 'Ibrahim' shone across the stereo display.

"İyi akşamlar, Baba." (Good evening). I kept my voice monotonous to hide my disappointment.

"I'm sorry, I know you were expecting a visit from me soon, but you know how caught up I get with distribution managing," I suppressed a scoff. As if someone else couldn't easily do that. But, he wouldn't dare entrust his precious business to someone else.

"I just wanted to let you know that payment has been transferred into your account, and the jet is ready whenever you're ready to go home."

"I've seen enough of Colombia, I'll have Pavel take me to the airport now."

"As you wish. Good work, Rosemarie." I glared at his use of my full name, he knows I hate that. But, wasn't in the mood to argue so I left it be.

"Thank you, Baba. Call you when I get in." Pavel offered me a sad smile as comfort, which I returned. He understood I was upset, I always was. I hadn't seen my father in almost five years now. He always promised me visits, but closest I ever got to seeing him was video chats on my laptop. Sure, I could just as easily fly out to see him, but I knew he'd only try to talk me into returning home with him. I left because I was ready to live my own life, and he only smothered me. But, that didn't mean I never wanted to see him again. I love Baba. Of course I wasn't all selfish, I understood the risks. I had the same prices on my head as he did. Probably even more considering I was the one doing all the dirty work. Part of me felt like he was doing it as punishment for leaving, even though he denied being angry when I first gave him the news. Whatever it was, I tried my best not to let it get to me. Plus, I had bigger things to worry about. Like how I was about to deal with Lissa being pissed at me.

"So, straight to the airport then?" Pavel asked from the front seat. I was about to agree when a brightly colored bag on this girl's shoulder walking across the street from us caught my eye, and gave me the perfect idea.

"On second thought, Pavel, there's one stop I need to make first."

—Δ—

"Who is it?" Lissa called through the door.

"Housekeeping." I replied in a sickly sweet voice. My hand was over the peephole, so I was hoping she wouldn't try to look through it. Thankfully, she didn't. But, I was spared no pleasantries when she caught sight of who was actually at the door. Her face hardened.

"You know, you really shouldn't do that. Hard to get rid of those deep frown lines. Not good for wedding photos." I joked attempting to lighten the mood. She wasted no time slamming the door in my face. Or, she tried at least. My foot was already firmly lodged in the frame.

"I don't want to see you, Rose." In all our years of friendship, Lissa was never one to get angry. That was all me. But, when she did it was a sight to behold and she was not to be taken lightly. It pained me to see her so upset with me.

"I know, I know. Just—here." Words were more than likely not going to do me any favors, so I got straight to the point and held out the gift I'd bought her from Colombia. It was what they called a 'mochila'; a beautifully woven shoulder bag that said 'Guajira' on the side as a mark for where it came from. The women there had many bright colors they'd made them in, and the style was very boho chic. Lissa loved authentic, handmade things like this, so I got her 3 different ones in different colors and sizes. She eyed the bags warily at first, but the more she studied the detail and careful crafting her expression changed from one of animosity, to one of awe.

"Where did you get these?"

"Well, we landed the contract Alberta was pressing me so hard to get. And the CEO of the company we partnered with is Colombian. Her mother sends her these bags every once in a while as a gift, and she gave me some as a sign of good faith. I know how much you love stuff like this, so this is my peace offering." I explained giving her the biggest smile I could muster. She didn't exactly jump in my arms like I was hoping, but her posture visibly relaxed.

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Well, come on don't leave me hanging out here. We've got work to do, don't we?" I attempted to squeeze past her in the door, and failed miserably. Something told me this wasn't going to be that easy, but a girl could try.

"This isn't something that can be fixed with gifts, Rose. This is serious. I don't know how glamorous you think planning a wedding is, but it's not. Not in the slightest. I've been under a lot of stress, and I was really expecting you to be here for me. You know, like you said you would be? I mean what's been going on with you? Ever since you got that promotion or whatever at work you've had hardly any time for me. And I don't just mean the wedding. When's the last time we had a lunch date? A shopping weekend? A girl's night? I don't know what's going on, but you seem to have a whole lot of priorities...and I'm not one of them." She averted her gaze to the floor, but not before I saw her eyes glaze over as tears started to well up in them. My heart plummeted into my stomach. Long time ago I made a vow to kill anyone that ever made her cry...didn't seem so practical now. Of course I knew she was upset, but that I could handle. This worried me. She wasn't just disappointed like I thought. She doubted the strength our friendship. Well, mine specifically. How could she really not know how much I cared about her? And, our friendship.

Not like you've made it so obvious these last few months.

I'd lost a lot of things in life, some losses I barely made it through. Losing Lissa was not something I would be able to bear. We've been friends for as long as I can remember, and when her family died we took her in until she could make it on her own and got her inheritance. I loved her like a sister. She was the only normal thing I could count on in life. She kept me sane and grounded. What would I be without her? Tears started to prick at the back of my own eyes. I was at a loss for words. As if there was anything I could say at this point...

"I've got an appointment early in the morning, and Christian is waiting for me to fix dinner. Congratulations, Rose." This time I let her close the door. My sadness quickly boiled into anger. I turned and threw my fist into the nearest wall. There was no one to blame but myself. Suddenly I was exhausted, yet restless at the same time. I needed to hit something. Thankfully, I always kept a duffle bag of clothes in the trunk in case I had to disappear on short notice. Workout clothes included.

It didn't take me long to get to the gym, and I was in luck since no one was ever there this late. Usually I'd go running a bit on the track to warm up, but right now I really just needed to blow some steam. So, I went straight for the bag. Boxing had become an interest of mine sometime during my teen years. I'd gone through a lot, and was left with a lot of anger and stress as a result. That, on top of my usual temper was not a good combination. I often took it out on everyone else around me, including my father. Though, I think that was more on them than me. People loved to poke the fucking bear. Pavel was actually the one who suggested I take up boxing and offered to teach me. It was meant to be just an outlet, but the longer it went on I found I really enjoyed it. Later, I also got into kickboxing, jujitsu, mma, tae kwon do, and a couple others. So pretty much anything that teaches you how to kick someone's ass, I know it.

I'd become so focused on just releasing everything on the punching bag that I hadn't even noticed the cuts and scrapes on my knuckles. They weren't too deep, but I was definitely going to need bandages. Oh well. I decided to just shower when I got home and packed up. Even after beating up my hands, I still felt like shit. Sure, the tension in my body was gone thanks to the fact that I was exhausted, but emotionally I was still just as much of a wreck. How was I supposed to fix this with Lissa? What if I couldn't? Then, something even more upsetting came to mind.

What if she's just better off without me?

I clenched my jaw at the thought. Not because it was wrong, but because it held truth. I was no good for Lissa. I kill people for a living for God's sake. If she knew the truth, she wouldn't be able to look at me let alone speak to me ever again. She'd hate me. Now, with all the contracts I constantly had coming in, I had no time to be there for her like she needed me to. Like a real best friend should be. She deserved better.

I sighed heavily.

It took all the strength I had not to collapse on the couch the second I stepped through my door. I had to admit despite all the places I traveled for "work", nothing ever beat how great it felt to come home. But, having an amazing place with a view to call home probably had something to do with that. I had to fight tooth and nail to get this loft, and it was more than worth it. Finding a place in Manhattan was not easy, and finding a place with the perfect view of Central Park was nearly impossible. The second I moved to NYC I knew exactly where I wanted to live, I had a vision and would settle for nothing less. Money was no issue, so that definitely made my search a little easier. It was actually Lissa who found this loft for me. She came across a woman on the street one day who just so happened to be handing out flyers about a space she had to get rid of because she couldn't afford it anymore. It was extremely pricey, so she wasn't getting much luck finding potential buyers. Lissa took a tour of the loft herself and sent me some pictures. I fell in love. It was a two level loft with one bed upstairs and two baths. Downstairs was the kitchen, living room, and guest bathroom. Everything was open space so it was extremely roomy. The bedroom, personal bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a secret room behind the closet the owner had installed were upstairs. I never bothered to ask why because lucky for me, it gave me a place to hide all my "stuff from the office". It was an industrial style space so everything was left pretty much as it was made; there were brick walls, wooden and steel kitchen furnishings, and plenty of huge windows for natural lighting. It all felt very down to earth. Upstairs, however, was a completely different story. Everything was much more modernly styled with white walls, a marbled bathroom, and furniture that looked more for show than actual use. But, still more than enough windows. Despite the few issues I had with some of the decor, I loved the space. I called Lissa immediately and told her to tell the woman that I was definitely buying. Lucky for her she agreed. Rose Hathaway doesn't take no for an answer. I paid in full, much to both of their suspicions, and moved in soon after. It's been my favorite place to be ever since.

A faint jingle of a bell brought me out of my thoughts. I looked down to find Vahşi, my cat, weaving herself between my legs. It's actually funny seeing as when Lissa and I used to live together, she had this cat named Oscar. He was an asshole. For some reason we just didn't get along, and I told Lissa I'd die before I ever owned a cat. Now, here I am with one of my own. I found her in the alley behind my place when she was a kitten in the garbage can looking for food. It seemed like she'd been abandoned or separated from her mother. And, I hated to admit it but I was starting to get lonely living here alone. So, I took her in and named her Vahşi because she has spots like a leopard. Vahşi means wild in Turkish. Personally, I find myself to be more of a dog person, but I was gone way too much to properly take care of one. I loved her all the same.

"Aww, did you miss me?" She meowed in response rubbing her head across my ankles. I bent down to pick her up and kissed her on the forehead. She relaxed into my arms instantly as I carried her upstairs and started to purr. I found myself relaxing as well. Even though I'm always the one catering to her, she manages to soothe me. Somehow. I placed her in her usual spot on the windowsill, and went to quickly take my shower. Usually I could spend forever in the shower, but now all I wanted to do was sleep.

In the middle of drying off and pinning up my hair, my phone flashed. 10PM, right on schedule.

No visit today? I'm hurt :( -A

Actually, the more I thought about it I could've used one of our nightly visits. It would've taken my mind off everything. For a little while at least. But, I wasn't in the mood for it now.

You'll live. Got caught up with work, real tired. Another time? -R

I'll hold you to that, little businesswoman. Btw, have I ever told you I love a woman in charge? ;) -A

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Being a pain in the ass without being present had to be some sort of special skill. But, I was starting to catch myself getting used to him being around. That was a no-no. Probably should've thought through my response a little more, but the damage had been done. I only hoped that he would, by some miracle, forget our conversation.

Vahşi took her usual spot nestled into my abdomen and curled up in the bed next to me. I closed my eyes and prayed for the best. Not for sleep, that wasn't a concern, but for peace of mind from the ghosts of the dead that still haunted me. There weren't many kills that I regretted, but those that did...they hung around. And for some reason tonight, they weren't giving me a break. Every time I closed my eyes there was a pair of empty ones peering back at me through the darkness. Each one different. After a while I stopped trying. I was careful not to wake Vahşi getting out of bed and headed to the one other place that kept me busy and calm. The smell of lemon Pledge and metal instantly stilled my mind. I couldn't explain it if I wanted to, it was just something about the process of taking my guns apart, cleaning them, and putting them back together. It was like turning off my brain for a while, and I was in need of some real down time. I couldn't tell you how many guns I went through before finally taking a break. I curled up on the chaise lounge on the far side of the room with some files on my next target. Before I knew it, I had fallen into a lonely, void sleep. Just like I liked it.

Well guys here I am with a new story! First, to those of you who follow my other VA story 'The Switch', no need to fear I have not given up on it. This story is to help me figure out how I want to go with it, and by this one being AU and AH it allows me to get out all my own personal creative directions so I can stick better to the story.

Either way, I hope you guys enjoy this one as well. Feel free to let me know how you're feeling so far, and if I should continue. Constructive criticism is always welcome :)

Anyone think they know who 'A' is? ;)

Until next time!