Page 25 of Power of Shadow

Also yes.

Am I going to hand it over to the Jackal?

Over my dead body!

Today, I’m starting to implement the first stage of my spider web, as delicate as deadly. And no one, absolutely no one, will stop me from closing this job.

When night falls, I transform into someone completely different.

In the underground world, on the dark web, and on the streets, I’m known as Shadow.

This nickname stuck with me after my second or third job. I have a unique ability to move quickly in the darkness. I’ve never been noticed by anyone—at least not by anyone who lived to tell the tale.

Not to brag, but I’m good at what I do. My cuts are always precise, my blows are swift, and my bullets always hit their target.

The combination of my elusiveness and precision gives me the leading spot on this infamous list of the city’s killers.

Not like the Jackal! Whoever this person is, he may be just as elusive, but he’s someone who loves to play with his victims. He’s creative and precise in his actions. Often, he tortures his targets. I get the impression he’s a fan of macabre, bloody works of art. He loves it when his crime scenes are messy.

Like a messy artist.

Even though I’m sometimes impressed, I wouldn’t admit it even if I were burned alive. Never in my life.

After all, he’s my rival and number two. For some, number one, but after the job I have to do now, no one else will have their doubts.

Focus, damn it! You have things to do.

Dressed in my tight-fitting black jumpsuit, I pull the hood over my head. I already have a black mask on my face, covering the entire lower part. It’s custom-made for me from Kevlar, with protruding elements. They aren’t meant only to protect me from impact thanks to internal safeguards. Their purpose is also to cause damage to my opponent.

My hair’s tucked under the elastic material that forms the back of the mask. Thanks to the whole design, only my eyes are visible. Additional air intakes provide ventilation for the whole thing.

Besides, I’m a walking weapon arsenal. On my body, I carry not only daggers but also a rope, a syringe containing a fast-acting sedative, throwing knives, and a small stun gun. You never know what might come in handy and when for a woman in this business.

In a short time, in my search for a way to reach my goal, I found information that former Senator Charles Baker has a brother. Half an hour was enough for me to have everything I needed about him on my plate, including his home address, insurance number, and even his mistress’s address. If you can still call her his mistress, that is, because his wife dumped his lousy ass over a year ago, taking their only son and beloved dog with her.

Either way, David Baker and his life aren’t much of a challenge for me.

I park my black Toyota RAV4 almost half a mile from my target’s house. My visit to his home doesn’t involve kidnapping, so there's no need to leave it nearby. It’s not without reason that I drive the most popular car in this city.

Before I get out of the car, I transform into Shadow.

Sneaking through the streets and sticking to the darkest places, sometimes the roofs of houses, I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins and my breathing quickening with excitement.

I soon reach David’s house. I observe the surroundings for a long time, but it’s already past midnight, and the neighborhood is quiet.

My target’s gray house is also shrouded in darkness, except for one small lamp lit in the living room. Through my monocular, I see the senator’s brother sitting on the couch reading a book and finishing a bottle of red wine.

A thrill runs through my body at the thought of the fun awaiting me. It’s even more thrilling because David is still up so late. I’m almost certain my life lacks challenges that would inspire me even more.

Putting my monocular away in a separate pocket, I look around once more.

It’s showtime.

Like a cat, I slowly and carefully climb down to the edge of the roof on the house opposite David’s. I jump onto the balcony below me, then hop over the railing and hang on the edge. Below me is a void, and I’m still two stories away from the ground.

Hand over hand, I move to the other end. Now I have to jump to the other balcony, two body lengths away.

What I want to do is risky, but I have good gymnastic skills. Holding onto the edge, I raise my legs and place them on the edge. Now I look like a swimmer getting ready to start a race.