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She makes another hmm noise. “Let me ask you something else. Were you excited about your last job? Be honest.”

“Well, no, ma’am, it was a little rote. But I don’t mind.”

She doesn’t address that. “And what about when you say Matteo’s name on that paper?”

Excited isn’t the word I’d use. But, yes, of course I was intrigued.

Matteo is a real risk.

He’s one of the only people who ever tried to see me. The real me. There’s a thrill to the exposure, yes.

It also makes my job a million times harder. If he sees through me, he’ll see I’m there to kill him.

Like she’s reading my mind, Hera says, “you need a challenge. This is a challenge.”

“What if it’s impossible?”

“So you don’t have a strategy?” she asks.

Of course I have a strategy. “That’s not it.”

She makes that hmm again. “Tell me what you’re planning.”

I do.

She loves it.

Agrees right away. Sends exactly what I need to lure Matteo right into my trap.

Matteo is impossibly out of place at the bar. Between the clouds of smoke, dim lighting, and men in cheap suits, the place screams seedy crime den. And with his tailored wool, short hair, and stuff posture, Matteo screams I’m here to arrest someone.

The other patrons give him a wide berth. He’s at the bar, fingers curled around a short glass with a lime garnish, a dozen feet from the nearest person.

(Really, the bartender is on the complete other side of the bar, and he’s eyeing Matteo like he’s going to pull out a badge and demand CCTV at any moment).

God, he looks good all I’m here to restore law and order.

He’s more handsome than he is in my mind.

I should lean into that.

I had the chance to fuck you again and I took it is believable. I’ve always loved you, I forgive you for throwing me in jail, can we run off into the sunset now isn’t.

My head likes the plan. My heart not as much. It’s stuck on the part where I kill him after.

This is the first time I’ve had a reason to ask myself should I do this?

But that’s a silly question. It implies I have the power to change Matteo’s destiny.

And I don’t.

Memento mori.

Amor fatti.

Whatever.

I take a deep breath, brush a blonde strand behind my ear, and approach him at the bar.