Isaak exhales on the other end of the line. “I’m here with Ido. We have someone. He’s waiting for you.”
I give him nothing.
“Where are you?” he asks after a second.
I remain silent.
“I’ll send the address,” he says at last.
The line goes dead.
I slip the phone back into my pocket and begin moving without a conscious thought. I do what needs to be done.
I exist simply for revenge, but I don’t live. You might as well say I died with her, because in truth, I did.
I step out of the building and get into my car.
The message comes through. It isn’t far from where I am, a small town outside London.
I enter the address and start the engine.
A few miles down the road, I press the button.
In the rear view mirror, the explosion blooms. The building collapses in on itself as fire rips through it.
I disappear into the night.
I don’t sleep.
I don’t eat.
I don’t stop.
I need the bastard found and dead.
And then I will reunite with my girl, because I know she’s waiting for me.
Alone.
Just as I am now.
I grit my teeth and press the accelerator harder.
Once I arrive at the address, I park and step inside. I scan the room once and immediately recognise one of ours. Isaak is already here.
The man jerks his chin toward the basement, and I head straight down.
The door opens, and the stench of blood reaches me before the room fully comes into view.
A man is strapped to a chair, his head hanging forward, chin nearly to his chest. Isaak stands in front of him with his arms crossed. Ido leans against the wall, silent and observing.
“Why did you bring him to one of our houses?” I ask Isaak evenly. “I don’t do clean ups anymore. I burn things. I don’t have the patience to work around your decor.”
Isaak studies me for a moment.
“You’re deteriorating,” he says calmly.
“Didn’t ask for your diagnosis.”
