How to Escape an Assassin

Tristan was pissed.

Very, very pissed.

His left eye twitched as he stood there frozen, in front of the gun that I angled directly at his chest.

A moment that felt like eternity passed where we just stood there like that. It was deadly silent, other than the sound of our breathing.

I gulped as I tried to anticipate Tristan's next move. But Tristan was certainly the least predictable person I'd ever met.

Heck, I couldn't even anticipate what my own next move would be. I had a brief mental panic as I tried to decide on a course of action. Should I shoot him? Should I just hold him at gunpoint and make a break for it?

But then, Tristan smiled. It was a cold smile that made my blood run cold.

No, Milan. Don't let him get to you. Remember, you are the one wielding the gun, I thought to myself.

He reached up and rubbed his chin, smiling cruelly at me.

"I said don't move," I ordered. I hoped my words came out as confidently as I intended.

"I'm proud of you, little one."

I rolled my eyes. "Take out your car keys, wallet, and phone. Give them to me."

"You're going to rob me, Milan?" He reached in his back pocket and took out the items. Then he started to walk toward me.

"Set them down on the floor," I said hurriedly. "Don't step any closer or I will shoot."

Tristan snorted, but he followed my instructions. "I don't think you will, love. You know how to use it?"

"Whats that supposed to mean?" The pistol was trembling in my hold.

"There's a manual safety on it. You know how to disengage it?"

I weighed the possibility that what Tristan was telling me was true. I didn't know the first thing about guns, and I would have trouble figuring out how to disable the safety that he mentioned.

Maintaining the positioning of the gun, I carefully bent over and took one hand away to collect Tristan's keys, wallet, and phone. Then I stepped backward to where my belongings lay on the floor in front of the nightstand. I crouched down and pulled out a change of clothes. The first ones I found were a wrinkled pair of navy blue sweatpants and a matching crewneck sweatshirt, and some slip-on canvas shoes.

Tristan watched me impatiently. He shook his head and muttered something inaudible under his breath.

I ungracefully changed into the clothes, switching hands on the gun as I shoved my arms through the sleeve-holes. The worst part was getting my head through the neck hole. I accidentally let go of the gun, fumbled to keep it from falling to the floor then managed to catch it, like a recovered football, before it could hit the floor. Phew, that was close.

I corrected my hold on the gun then pointed it steadily at him again. Tristan rolled his eyes.

With my bags over my shoulder, I took long, slow, backward strides to the completely shattered glass sliding doors where I would make my getaway.

"I think you're bluffing about the whole 'manual safety on the gun' thing... otherwise why are you letting me escape?" I finally asked.

"Maybe I like the chase, baby." He said, licking his bottom lip. "But... this is the second time you've crossed me. Things aren't going to turn out good for you." A sinister look flashed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Tristan. I have to survive by any means, for the sake of my family."

For some reason, my choice of words infuriated him. His countenance hardened, eyes like steel cutting into me as I walked backward and stepped over the doorsill and into the parking lot. Tristan's Maybach was parked right there. I kept the pistol aimed at him as I clicked the unlock button on the car key fob and opened the door.

"You aren't going to make it far. I have a reputation for clean kills, but for you baby, I'll make sure to give you a slow and painful death. It's only fitting for a snake such as yourself."