The Bloodhound

The encounter

I looked up to the sky, snow dancing in the cold January air. It's been several months since I landed at the airport. Several months since the betrayal of all the people I held dear and close to my heart. I have been staying at a mansion in Ottawa that Henry bought when he was still alive.

Henry has several houses owned all over the world in case I get an assignment that requires me to travel. All of those properties went to me when he died, courtesy of his resident lawyer, Mr. Sawyer. God, I miss Henry.

I breathed in deeply to get the melancholy out of my system and just enjoy the scenery in front of me. Snow as white as ivory is piling up in front of the mansion, creating a fluffy blanket that instantly makes a person want to make a snow angel out of it, or a snowman.

I giggled at the thought and walked out of the grounds and into the garage to get my car. Yes, I had my car delivered here. I had it registered under my real name. I think it's time to use my real name now. No more June Lane. It's time to resurrect Guinevere Snow. And what better way to do that than being in another country where no one knows you? Am I right?

Enough of that nonsense. I need to get some supplies at the nearest mall. I need more supplies for electronics. I need to sweep the web. I need to know the whereabouts of those divine a-holes. I may have put a tracking chip on them, it's better to know what they are currently doing. Plus I want to dye my hair a platinum blonde color. Out with the old and in with the new, as they say.

I grew out my hair and now it is down to my knees. I know, it's long. I badly need a haircut. Another reason to go to the mall. I got into my car and drove out of the mansion. I told the guard that I will be back late in the evening and to tell me what happened during his shift. He nodded and I proceeded to the mall.

I meticulously chose the guards that I hired because I don't like wasting my money on some scoundrel sleeping on his shift. I pay them generously just to report what they have seen on the monitor. I don't need them but it's a facade to fool the people of my true identity. I don't want to be arrested before I even made a move. That's pretty stupid, and sloppy for an assassin.

Did I mention that I am an assassin? No? Well, now you guys know. I was once called Lady Violet. I was the best assassin in the south, and then I died. I died inside when the people I trusted after seeing my parents and foster parent dead in front of me betrayed me and the trust that I gave them. I swore to myself that they will get the retribution that they all deserved.

I bided my time here in Ottawa, training myself to be ruthless again. I became soft when I was around them. I only wanted a family, but they never wanted me to be a part of theirs. Manipulative bitches. They are going to regret making an enemy out of an assassin.

I arrived at the mall and went straight to the electronics store and purchased everything I needed for the supercomputer I am working on right now. When I got everything, I paid for it and went straight to the salon. When I went in, several hairdressers stood up and flocked in front of me.

"How can we help you today? You need a haircut?" a brunette asked me, I was about to answer, another asked,

"You want your hair dyed?"

I looked at them, confused drawn on my face, and said, "Yes. A haircut and I want my hair dyed platinum blonde."

They all jumped in glee and two of them pulled me towards one of their seats. Another two took my bags from me and placed them on a table beside me. They were careful not to damage it when they saw what is inside the bags. The brunette that asked me earlier asked me again, "Is it okay to take out your scrunchie? And how long do you want your hair to be cut?"

"Yes, you can. Can you cut it just up to my lower back? I don't want to be too short." I replied. She nodded vigorously and carefully took out my scrunchie.

They all gasped when they saw the length of my hair. I looked behind and I saw the ends. It was hanging a few inches off the ground. I giggled when they looked at me.

"You have nice hair, miss. Is it okay if we donate your hair to people who make wigs for cancer patients?" A young redhead asked.

I smiled at her and nodded. Her eyes instantly lit up and she clapped her hands. I giggled at her response and looked ahead in the mirror. I decided to open my phone and see the tracker beeping. They have been on the move for several months now, never staying in one place. They are always leaving after a few weeks. They never went back to their hometown. I wonder why? I smirked at the phone and was a bit surprised when I saw their location.

I noticed that they have been slowly going north after my good-bye gift to them. Is this coincidence? Or are they planning something? Whatever it is, I need to be prepared for whatever they throw at me. After checking the tracker, I played a few rounds of different games to distract myself from the long hours of cutting, bleaching, and dyeing my hair to the color I asked them.

It took them the whole morning and two hours in the afternoon to finish bleaching and dyeing my hair. They finished it by giving me a curly finish to my shiny hair as well as tips on taking care of my hair. They were also grateful that I decided to donate my hair and gave me a little gift for it. They gave me a cute bracelet that is inspired by the sea. I thanked them and left the salon when I bumped into something hard. Or someone.

I looked up and boom!