Because I’m going to end this shit. Tonight.
I lift my head and look up.
The tower looms above everything else, a needle of glass and ambition still closed to the public for another two days. Empty. Controlled. Vertical.
The world’s newest tallest building.
“Yeah,” I murmur to myself, already moving again.
“That’ll work.”
Iwalk with purpose to the curb where a line of cabs idles, engines ticking, drivers half-asleep and dreaming of fares that won’t end in therapy.
No time for subtleties now.
I open the driver’s door, grab him by the collar, and haul him out in one smooth motion. He yelps. I don’t apologize. I toss my book bag onto the passenger seat, slide in, and peel away from the curb.
The tower is only two blocks away, but I need speed.
If all the world’s assassins are in this city tonight, they’ll have plenty of room to die in there.
I drive the cab straight through the front doors.
Glass explodes inward, a violent bloom of sound and shards and screaming alarms. The cab bucks, then dies, lodged halfway into the marble lobby like it was always meant to be here.
“Grim,” I say, already moving.
“You just can’t do anything like a normal person, can you?” He crunches on, what has to be five thousand chips.
“Eh,” I reply, climbing out. “Where’s the fun in that.”
I set the bag on the cab’s roof and unzip the rear compartment.
“Hello, my babies.”
Plastic-wrapped bricks. Detonators. Cord. Enough bad decisions to redraw a skyline.
Outside, engines growl. Not civilian. Not curious. Heavy. Military-adjacent. The kind of vehicles that don’t stop unless something makes them.
I check the gun at my back. Loaded.
I pull out a second. Then a third. Slam magazines home, smooth and practiced, and slide them into shoulder holsters beneath my leather jacket.
Multitool. Back pocket. Good.
Flip phone. I hesitate, then tuck it into a side pocket of the bag. Secured.
“Grim,” I say, strapping the pack onto my shoulders and clipping it tight across my chest. “I need you to be my eyes. Tell me how many are coming into the building. Keep civilians out.”
“Okay. Give me a minute. Almost done with the program.”
I pull a piece of gum from my pocket and pop it into my mouth.
“Oh shit. She’s getting the gum out. Take cover, Dubai.” I can hear the amusement in his voice.
I smirk and add a second piece. Overkill is a lifestyle.
It should be alarming how much he enjoys this. Not that I’m alarmed. But someone should be.
