We Know

The assassin raised her bow, the tip of the arrow pointing at her target’s head. Her target, Sam, had stolen a basket of her favorite dessert, sweetrolls, in the middle of the previous night. She did not take it well when someone stole from her, and would teach this boy not to mess with her again. Her fingers loosened around the arrow and bowstring, almost releasing when Sam turned and looked directly at her. The assassin froze. Her mind had gone blank of all the training she had received, her eyes glued to the basket of sweetrolls on the table behind Sam. Laughter escaped Sam’s lips as he picked up a pastry.

“You were going to kill me over a basket of sweetrolls. You have lost your touch, Khayla,” Sam replied, taking a bite of one of the delicious, frosted round pastries. Khayla knew that killing someone over a basket of sweetrolls was beneath an assassin of her rank, but wweetrolls were the last food her mother had made her before the Dark Brotherhood kidnapped Khayla and trained her.

“W-well, you did rip me off,” Khayla stuttered, finding her voice.

“Oh, but you were responsible for the deaths of my brothers and my father. Your past drips red and I seek revenge,” Sam replied. Suddenly, the door behind Khayla burst open and she felt a knife at her back. It was a trap.

“Sam performed the Black Sacrament and placed a contract on your head, Khayla. I hate to do this to a member of our Family, but I have no choice,” the voice of one of Khayla’s comrades breathed in her ear before the world went black around her, wishing she had never been taken away from her mother and her sweetrolls.