I wasn’t one for looking back. I felt the same about my victims as I did about my exes. Once you were done with them, you really didn’t want to ever think of them again. Dispatched and done for. Dead. Dead to me. Same thing.
Danny had dared to turn up back in my life, and look how that had ended. And now someone was taunting me with past receipts on past kills.
This jaunt down memory lane was going to mean a lot more bodies.
Chapter Thirty
Fox
I was a strong, independentman.
I had to keep reminding myself of that fact. Back in Ivrea, being saved by my wife and her best friend had knocked me. Why couldn’t I have saved myself? Yes, those men had outnumbered me four to one. Yes, I was injured. But still. I was a trained elite killing machine. That’s what I had convinced myself of over all those years of feeling invincible. And look what had happened: they’d found me, taken me, and nearly killed me.
I knew I was broken. What I didn’t know was how to get fixed. I wanted to come back stronger. To learn from this. To be better.
This morning, I’d woken up in front of the television. I knew people did that all the time. But normally that was because they passed out there. They didn’t go to bed, kiss their wife goodnight, fall asleep, and then, in the middle of the night, go back downstairs—before waking up with no recollection of doing it.
I knew I should probably talk about this with someone. Haze. Sally. But I couldn’t face the sad eyes. The panic at the fact I was quite clearly going crazy. Doctor Google had reassured me that sleepwalking was down to stress. That was all it was. Another manifestation of stress. And it wasn’t anything to worry anyone about, as I was just wandering around the house. Maybe I was even catching up on chores. Enjoying the quiet time when no one else was around.
I wasn’t even sure how much therapy was helping my current situation, but I had to feel like I was doing something. Taking control of my problems. Which was why, rather than going straight to the office, I was here yet again, trying to give Sally my edited version of “running over my wife’s ex-boyfriend.” It was not easy.
Sally peered at me over her glasses. “You’re not being very clear, Nathaniel.”
“Sorry. I just…” I cracked my knuckles. “Last night, I was walking down a dark street, and a man looked like he was going for my phone. I reacted instinctively, to protect myself. But for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I had imagined him going for my phone. You know, maybe I was just expecting the worst from him, but he wasn’t really a threat?”
“You hit the man?”
Thunk.
“Yes.”
“And how did you know if you were right or not?”
I found the gun!
“He had several phones on him, which made me realize I was right. He must’ve been planning to take my phone too.”
“What did the police say?”
“I ran off, in case the man had other friends with him.”
“Right.” Sally went to write something on her notepad and then stopped. “So, what you’re saying is, your fear of being mugged again nearly came true—but you were able to save yourself?”
I nodded as I took this in. “Yes, I guess so.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Good? I think? That my instincts were right. That I didn’t get hurt again.”
“This is wonderful progress. What did Haze have to say?”
“She was…initially confused. Thinking I’d hit the man for the wrong reasons. But she understands now. That I was right.”
“I’m so glad she is supporting you, finally.”
I frowned a little. “Haze has always supported me.”
Sally tilted her head. “Do you think so?”
