No more doubts.
North Carolina, USA
“You sound… impressed,” Jason drawls, his shaky hand wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, black as a raven’s wing. The liquid swirls against the light ceramic, staining it a dark brown and leaving behind scattered sandy dots.
I lean back against the wall, a shrug rolling over my shoulders. Exhaustion crashes into me like a wave, soaking every inch of my body in its sweet, numbing heaviness. The flight from Mexico was brutal, especially with insomnia gnawing at my brain. I swear I’m already seeing hallucinations flicker at the edges of my vision.
“One day, it’s going to kill you,” I say, ignoring his statement.
Jason frowns, a crease cutting deep between his thick brows as his cerulean gaze snaps to mine. I nod toward the mug in his hands, and once he realizes it, he lets out a chuckle.
“Die from a caffeine overdose?” he asks, skeptical, like the very idea is absurd. “You’re funny, Dante. It wouldn’t hurt to fix yourself a cup or two—you look like shit.” His voice holds a sharp edge, and even through the fog of my sleep-deprived mind, I get it. I know why he’s annoyed.
Jason’s my partner—one of the most relentless, loyal people I’ve ever crossed paths with. He’s been at my side since the moment my parents died.
That day carved a line straight through my life. At nineteen, everything I thought mattered dissolved, fading into a distant, useless haze. In its place rose one thing—sharp, blinding, all-consuming.
A thirst for revenge. I swore I’d hunt down the people who took them from me and deliver justice in whatever shape it demanded, no matter how dark or bloody the path became.
Nine years have passed, and not once have I wavered—neither in myself nor in the plan I set in motion.
Life has a way of fracturing in an instant.
I remember how the vehicle spun wildly, my father fighting the wheel with every ounce of strength. Then two gunshots cracked through the air, and in a single heartbeat, they were ripped from my world, leaving nothing but silence and the echo of a life I would never get back.
I’ve often wondered why the assassin never shot me, too. But considering the way our car swerved and flipped without anyone driving it, it’s clear they thought I wouldn’t make it.
Their mistake.
With some money, a little knowledge, and Jason at my side, we built something—our own group. One that hunts people likeCane and Estella. But the organization they work for… that was harder to find. Harder to trace. Part of me still can’t believe we managed to connect the dots.
It’s a global web—an international syndicate run by wealthy bastards who pull strings from the shadows. We’ve seen them orchestrate assassinations of every kind, spark political chaos, and destabilize governments—always for their own shifting, selfish agendas. Reaching the real leaders, the ones at the very top, has proven nearly impossible. They hide behind layers upon layers of intermediaries, false identities, and disposable pawns.
After years of tracking, studying, building a false identity, and interrogating anyone remotely tied to them, we’ve finally managed to get in. We’re closer than ever.
“Don’t mistake my reaction for anything stupid,” I finally say, shattering what feels like a lifetime of silence.
Jason takes another sip of his coffee, sets the cup down, and starts flipping through the papers scattered across the table. After a moment, he lifts his hands in surrender.
“Just observing,” he says. “You seem pretty impressed with her. The kind of impressed that borders on?—”
“No.” The single word slices through the air, sharp and unwavering, reverberating from deep in my throat like a blade drawn from its sheath. “What the fuck, Jason?”
He shrugs. “Well, for starters, we were expecting you to meet a man. The fact that she’s a woman? That complicates things.”
A dry chuckle slips past my lips, catching him off guard. He probably assumes that if I linger around a woman long enough, some attachment will form, some thread of feeling. After all, it’s been years since I’ve let anyone close—years without a serious relationship, without letting anyone see past the walls I’ve built.
“She’s already seen you half-naked, man. That’s?—”
“Ridiculous,” I snap, cutting him off again. I hate interrupting, but this conversation is fucking absurd.
I’m not built for a relationship—not with the life I’ve carved out for myself. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone reckless enough to care about a man like me. I’ve wandered too close to death too many times to pretend this path leads anywhere but the same dead end. One day, my luck will snap like a frayed wire. And honestly? That might be the best outcome, once I finish what I started.
Because I’m running on fumes now, burned down to the final flicker. And when all of this is finally over, I can’t picture a future waiting for me on the other side.
Just silence.
“You know me, Jason,” I say, rubbing a hand over my stubbled jaw and squinting against the sterile overhead lighting that’s doing my tired eyes no favors. “I’m curious about her only because she’s useful. That’s all.”
