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1422.1

he rarely ever had a job in london, but his time had come, he supposed. with the job being in london, it meant it would be more difficult for him. he couldn't just escape from it. the news of the death, whenever it would hit, would be something he would see without trying to find articles - and he knew that this murder would be one that the press couldn't ignore.

the target was a millionaire, someone who would be missed in particular circles. the general public did have problems with millionaires in general, but this one deserved a bullet between his eyes. he had his fingers in a shadier business than probably anyone could imagine. human trafficking? it wasn't beneath him. he didn't physically handle the cargo, but there was no doubt in yvan's mind that he dealt with the costs and logistics and that he profited immensely.

the job hadn't been given to him by his father, though. it had been given to him by one of kieran's associates. he assumed that his dad would never give him a task like this because it was too much of a risk. his dad could be firm with them sometimes but he was never cruel and he wouldn't put any of his kids in dangerous situations.

when the opportune night and time came for the assassination, yvan found his perch and he adjusted the scope as he searched for the face of the man who was going to meet his end. he had accounted for every possibility and expected that he would narrowly escape from this mess, even if there was a car waiting for him a couple blocks away to whisk him away from this whole scene.

however, what he hadn't planned for was the millionaire to have his kids with him. walking behind him was a teenage boy with slicked back hair and a bored expression etched into his face, and a younger girl with her light blonde hair in braids. he could avoid hitting them, of course. his aim was better than most, but..