I sit up slightly, spine straightening. “What kind of point?”
“He’s targeting Americans connected to the peace talks. Media. Security. Diplomatic staff. Anyone he can trace.”
I close my eyes again, jaw tightening. “How many?”
“A dozen so far. Confirmed dead.”
The plane hums around me, oblivious. I don’t feel fear—not for myself. That ship sailed a long time ago. But names surface anyway. Faces. Two of them in particular.
Kate.
Addison.
“Has he gotten to them yet?”
I don’t say their names out loud. I don’t have to. He knows exactly who I’m talking about.
“No.”
That’s a relief, but for how long?
“What’s being done about him? Local authorities?” I ask.
“Overwhelmed. Intelligence assets are compromised. This isn’t a blunt-force campaign. It’s surgical. He’s sending a message.”
I know the type. Rage sharpened into patience. Loss calcified into purpose. The son won’t rush this—he’ll savor it. He’ll choose targets that make headlines. He’ll force fear to do his work for him.
“He won’t stop.”
“No,” my handler agrees. “He won’t.”
Silence stretches between us, thick with implication. He’s waiting to see what I’ll do with the information. Whether I’lldisengage the way I always have, or if this time, something different will surface.
“You’re not asking me to go back?”
“No,” he replies smoothly. “I’m informing you.”
I drag a hand down my face, thumb pressing briefly into the corner of my eye. Fatigue settles deeper now—not physical but mental, the kind that comes from recognizing patterns you hoped you’d outgrown.
“He’s not my responsibility,” I say, because saying it feels necessary, even if it rings hollow.
“Of course not,” he answers, too easily. “You completed your contract. Cleanly.”
The word lands wrong. Clean is a lie we tell ourselves so we can sleep.
The flight attendant passes, indicating we’re about to take off, and my phone needs to go. I nod, gaze fixed forward. Somewhere below us, the world is celebrating. Families gathering, doors opening, lights turned on in windows meant to signal welcome.
Kate should be doing the same, back in LA, while Addison will be chasing the truth, convinced she can outrun consequences the way she always has. Neither of them knows what’s coming.
I close my eyes, jaw set. “What’s your assessment?”
My handler doesn’t hesitate. “If he escalates at this pace, it’s a matter of time before they cross his radar.”
I’m not worried about me. I’m a ghost. He’ll never find me. But I can’t say the same for Kate and Addison. But they are no longer my responsibility now. I cannot let myself get tangled up with her again.
“I’m not asking for an assignment, and I’m not volunteering.”
“Understood.”
