Hitwoman Ryann Payne: The Mark

Hitwoman Ryann Payne: The Mark

A man wakes and discovers a Killing Angel in his room

Millie Dynamite

© Copyright 2021 by Millie Dynamite

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, are entirely coincidental.

Hitwoman Ryann Payne: The Mark

This story was written for the 2024 Literotica 750 Word Challenge. Below this line are exactly 750 words...

Shrouded in near darkness, the nightlight dimly lit the room. The air was tense as Ryann Payne sat silently in a chair. Her golden, piercing eyes gazed at the man sleeping in the bed. The distant sounds of night provided a soundtrack to an impending confrontation.

As the man stirred in his sleep, something unseen and unheard caught his attention. He woke with a start. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the shadowy figure in the chair. The man instinctively reached for something on the bedside table.

Ryann swiftly revealed a silenced handgun, the metallic glint reflected in her cruel eyes.

"Easy there, Mister Accountant," she said. Her tone hushed, her voice cutting through the silence. "No sudden moves, Mister Thief, if you desire to see another day."

His eyes darted between her and the gun. A clawing inside distorted his long, thin face. The weight of the situation pressed on him. Bossman caught him.

"Boss sent you?"

"Yes." Ryann bobbed her head. The blueish light glistened on her dark skin, a swarthy, gleaming ebony flesh.

The unfortunate thief found her attractive and couldn't comprehend why that mattered. He'd fucked up big time. You don't steal from the mob. But all those millions and millions of dollars, who'd expect them to miss 800,000?

Ryann remained silent for a moment, letting the tension build. Finally, she spoke in a calm but chilling manner.

"Call me Payne, Ryann Payne. This isn't my birth name, mind you."

She chuckled. Her laughter was harsh, sending a shiver up his spine. She flicked a small lever on the side of the automatic pistol, and the hammer fell into place with a loud click. Laying the gun on her lap, she shifted in her seat.

He swallowed hard. His throat tightened.

"What do you mean?"

"Let me tell you a little about me."

"When I was 12 years old, I killed a boy four years older than me. I used a jump rope and choked him to death, riding on his back, with my knees dug in, hanging there, and twisting the cord tight." Ryann's voice was excited as she spoke, her eyes bright and alive.

"Not gonna lie; killing him was extremely enjoyable. Unfortunately for me, I attacked and killed him in front of stunned kids on the playground. The school grounds were jam packed with classmates and other students because I jumped him right after school let out. As I strangled the life out of the bastard, an unlucky teacher screamed for me to stop."

"I spent the next six years in a reformatory. After which, the Corporation recruited me. I've been killing for money since then. So, Mister Accountant, killing you won't cost me one minute's sleep."

"What I want is simple. Where's all that lovely money you stole from your employer?"

Ryann Payne picked up the gun and thumbed the hammer back.

"Come on, let's find that money and return it to your employer. Shall we?"

"I swear, I'll stop. I won't do it again, please, you don't have to..." The man's eyes welled at the realization he was going to die.

"Not doing it again doesn't make Bossman whole, does it? Where is it, and will you transfer it back to him?"

"Yes, I can arrange that in the morning."

"Don't play me for a fool, sweetheart. I bet you can transfer that money via the internet right now."

Ryann's expression remained unyielding.

"I need some of it. Not all of it is his money. I'll transfer every dime I took, but I must first figure out what that is. I swear on my wife's grave, I will return every penny of the boss's."

"Words are cheap, darling; he needs more than promises." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze unwavering. "Darling, you must show me the account. It's balance, and we'll call Bossman, and he will decide what's his and yours."

"I'll do anything you want. I'll return all I took from him and give you everything that's left. I'll disappear. Please, Miss Ryann, spare me, please."

"Transfer all the money to your boss's account now." Standing, she looked down the barrel of the gun at him.

Pulling his laptop from the table, he made the transfer and showed her the screen.

Ryann called Bossman.

"He's returned the money, plus an extra million." Flipping the phone closed. "He wants you to suffer."

She put the gun away and, pulled a knife, opened the blade. Grinned. "This will be so much fun."