A/N: Well, hello again, my readers. It's good to see you all again. Hope you enjoy this story. I think it'll be the best one yet. Sixth Arra Griffith story is out and ready. Summary included as usual.

Summary: Death is Arra Griffith's life. Being an assassin, surely that is obvious. To her, God is the only one who should judge people but it's her job to arrange the meeting. Hell, she wasn't good at anything else except killing. Maybe she was but she loved the thrill of the hunt, being an assassin werewolf. A whole new meeting is arranged, one she had no part in. Arra is captured for the millionth time in her life but by people who take her to an insane asylum. What's even more scary for her is that they are trying to convince her that she's not a werewolf, that she's not an assassin, that she doesn't even have a son. They try and persuade her that she's been in this institution since she was sixteen years old when she claimed she first turned into a werewolf and killed her baby brother. So, for a little over twenty years, she's supposedly been in this hospital never being bitten, never having a son and never becoming an assassin but she remembers everything so clearly. The scariest part, yet, is that she's starting to believe it.

Enjoy. !Shadow! Oh, and if you remember in Staring Into The Eyes of Death, Arra owed Luigi, the owner of 'L'oscurita, a favor. It'll be mentioned in this story for those who are still wondering.

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Nauseated. That's how I felt right now. And dizzy, don't forget that. My head was pounding so hard, I thought my skull might split in half. On top of that, my muscles were tired and sore. I could barely move without aching terribly. It was a little too warm here. Where the fuck was I anyway?

The ankle length leather jacket I wore billowed around my legs in the cool spring wind. I was dressed for the hunt but the hunting was already complete. Another successful kill on another beautiful night. I felt immensely good for some reason. Tonight was a night for celebration! I'm not sure why but I'm going to go home, take a hot shower and eat a big bowl of ice cream. Some celebration. Hey, what do you expect? I love ice cream.

As I walked to my car which was parked two blocks away from my target, that was now dead, of course, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. Tingles went up and down my spine like someone's fingers running across my bareback but this wasn't a good feeling. Someone was watching me. My hand on the car door, I scanned the area around me, sniffing and listening. I smelled nothing but humans which was common since just about everyone around here was a human except the woman I just murdered.

Shrugging the feeling off, I opened the car door of my black 2000 Ford Taurus. I finally got that new paint job done, making it look sleek and shiny, brand fucking new. I'm trying to take good care of it. My income could probably by me two more cars and keep up with the insurance but what did I need two more cars for? Damon would be getting one in a couple months since he already has his permit. Ryder and I are splitting the cost of his car, both of us teaching him to drive.

Tossing the black duffel bag on my shoulder, with my weapons in it, in the backseat, I hopped in and started the car. Turning on my headlights, putting it in gear and I was off. The moon would be full in a little less than a week. My senses were on high beam, alert to everything. They always got this way when the full moon was close. The wolf inside my was high with anticipation. I loved the full moon. I didn't know any werewolf who didn't.

Making a left turn on Prindell Street, I continued on driving. That feeling was back. Someone was watching me again. I checked the rear view mirror, even the side mirror but no one was behind me. Hmm...that was odd. What was even more odd was the hunched figure on their knees ten feet in front of my car. Holy shit! I stepped on the brakes, the tires squealing. Whoever it was looked like they were in terrible pain.

Drawing my Sig. Sauer .40, I slowly got out of the car, cautious. A woman with long black hair falling around her face like a curtain groaned. I took hesitant steps toward her, my gun pointed to the ground. Sniffing the air, I caught no scent from her except that of cotton candy. She was human.

"Excuse me?" I said, softly and quietly so as not to startle her. "Miss, are you alright? Do you want me to take you to a hospital?" She didn't answer, didn't even acknowledge my presence. I stepped closer until I was right beside her. Kneeling down, I touched her shoulder gingerly. "Miss-" the words were cut off as she spun quickly and jabbed something into my neck. "What the fuck?" I slurred, standing up. I stumbled a little.

The woman stared at me with light green eyes. Or I thought they were green because my vision was blurring badly. I reached up to my neck, pulling out a syringe. Oh, great. A tranq. At least, that's what I prayed it was. Throwing it to the ground, I cursed. Blinking several times to attempt clearing my vision, which didn't help by the way, I started to sway. I stared up into a streetlight, narrowing my eyes.

"Wow, that's bright," I said. Right after I said that, everything went black.

The memory faded and I groaned, opening my eyes. The first thing I saw was white. It was everywhere; white walls, white carpet, the small round table in the middle of the room with two chairs, the bed, the sheet, the pillow, the blanket, my clothes. Hold up! Since when did I start wearing white? I stared down at my attire that consisted of sweatpants that nearly covered my feet and a long sleeve t-shirt that was snug fitting. Blinking, I took one more look around the room and cursed. Small, white, square room.

I told you I'd end up in a psych ward one day!