THE DREAM KILLERS | Part 1

Nicholas Woodlee woke up right on time. He never lingered in bed; it was a habit he had cultivated for decades—one he credited with keeping him alive to this day. Although he set an alarm, he invariably woke even earlier than planned, a tendency that had only intensified with age. In his youth, he had forced himself to rise punctually, knowing that otherwise he would sleep far longer than necessary. In his later years, even when he wished to sleep a bit more to ensure he had the energy for the day ahead, he still found himself waking ahead of schedule. He recognized this as a sign of advancing age, and he had begun to map out a future where he would retreat further into the shadows to live out the remainder of his days. That was his hope, though he knew men in his line of work rarely lived as long as they might otherwise; few survived long enough to enjoy a retirement.

Another habit he had established early in his career was never to share a bed with anyone. From his youth to the present, he had never allowed a woman to spend the entire night in his bed. When he needed to satisfy his carnal urges, he would rent a hotel room and have one of his trusted men bring the woman there; once finished, he would leave immediately. If he needed to rest and regain his strength, he would retreat to a secluded, little-known location—a place where he could sleep safely, known only to a select few of his most trusted men. Nicholas believed that this habit helped him survive longer than others in his line of work.

The first thing he did upon waking was to reach for the gun lying beside him, check its safety, and only then sit up. He kept another gun under his pillow. He always kept two firearms close at hand—a safeguard in case one malfunctioned. He never allowed himself to be unarmed, though, in truth, he could kill just as easily with his bare hands. He placed his weapons deliberately to keep his sleep light and uneasy. From the moment he entered this profession, he knew that a deep, sound sleep was a luxury he could never afford—a vulnerability that had led to the sudden deaths of several of his peers. He had no intention of meeting such an end. He had long ago resolved that if his line of work were to cost him his life, he would not go alone; he would take a few adversaries down with him.

It was still early, and the air was perfectly still. The house where he stayed was situated in an open, isolated area, allowing the security system he had installed to monitor all activity in the surrounding vicinity. Nicholas stepped out of bed, attended to his morning routine, and brewed a cup of coffee. His breakfast was simple but carefully calculated—ensuring that even if his duties made him miss lunch, he would still have the energy to function at the required level.

Today was his day off, so after finishing breakfast, he sat in a corner of the room and turned on his tablet to check the day’s news. He made it a rule never to watch TV or look at his phone while eating, as he preferred to avoid distractions; he believed in staying alert to his surroundings even during meals. For this reason, he maintained the same habit even when eating alone at home—a practice intended to keep him in a constant state of readiness.

(to be continued)