"You know too much. You've seen too much. There is no exit for someone with your knowledge base. And even if you could run, the world would eat you alive. That's why I'm here."
I stepped around the chair, closing the gap until I was almost in the spill of the lamplight. "You taught me better than that. If I wanted to disappear, I could. I'd be out of the country in a day, and you'd never find me. But I don't want to run. I want you to let me go. I want to do this right, Father. Because we're not here to do dirty deeds for fun. We're here to punish those the law failed to punish. And if you're the man I think you are, you'll see it too—I haven't gottenmyjustice yet. And I'm no different from all those clients. I deserve dignity too."
The room fell silent.
Even though I couldn't see his face very well, I knew he studied me. I sensed the calculation behind the shadows.
"Your parents are dead," he said. "That's justice."
"That's not what I meant," I countered. "For what it's worth," I added, "I came to you first. Out of respect."
He leaned forward. The chair creaked softly under his weight. Finally, he tipped up his face just enough to catch some light. The eyes were as flat and dark as river stones. "And if I say no?"
"Then I walk," I said. "And you send your worst after me. And we play the old game. But I'm sure you know I have a backup plan if something happens to me or certain people."
Father considered it. He took his time.
"You'd kill the others if I sent them, wouldn't you?"
"I'd try if they try to kill me."
He smiled, but it was the kind of smile you saw on a dead man's lips in a coffin. "You're my masterpiece, Seven. A pity you turned out so fucking sentimental."
"That's not what this is."
He barked a laugh. "Of course it is. The emotions got the best of you."
"Is that a bad thing?"
In his eyes, they were. He'd always interpreted emotions as liabilities, not realities.
He didn't respond to my question. Instead, he leaned in some more, planting elbows on his knees and said, "Let's pretend I say yes. What then?"
"I disappear. You'll never see me again."
Father's voice was very low, almost gentle. "And if I need you?"
I shook my head. "You won't."
He thought about it for a very long time. The only sound in the room was the whir of the air vent above. He had this thing where he'd let a moment hang until you couldn't bear it, then make his move just as you started to sweat.
Finally, he said, "Here's my condition. If you go, you're gone. But if I ever need your set of skills, and I call you, you come and do the job. You owe me that much. No strings. One-time contract."
I looked at him, really looked at the lines in his face. He was an old man, who wanted to keep a leash on me, even if it was a thin one. But he'd taken me out of that group home I barely remembered. He'd brought me here, he'd made sure I wasn't bullied or hungry. In my own way, I was grateful.
What he was asking of me now was the best offer I'd ever get. And I knew it. The alternative, where I ran would put Kimmy in danger.
So, after a moment of deliberation, I nodded.
"Use your words," Father insisted. "I want to hear you say it."
"If you ever need me for a specific job," I said, "I'll come."
He relaxed, only a little, and it was terrifying how much power there still was in his stillness.
"Good," he said. "I hope you can get through this life, Operative Seven."
As I reached the door, I stopped and glanced over my shoulder.
