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They stare at me. “How did you …? How did you know that was me?”

Annoyance flares and I side-eye Mishka. “Am I not speaking English or something?” He doesn’t reply or give anything away, just continues to watch them, gun steady. “I’ve been following you long enough that I know more than you’ll ever want me to. And to be fair, after that last fuckup, I did consider just killing you to be done with it, because goddamn it, that was a fucking pain in the ass, but you’re useful, so I’ve decided to be nice and let it go.”

“You say that like you get to choose if I live or die.”

“Of course I fucking do,” I huff. “Do you know how many times I’ve been close enough to kill you and you never knew? You’re a great fucking hunter, but when it comes to getting the shit done, you don’t have the skill or finesse.”

They don’t say anything to that, but they flinch. Truth hurts, but better they face it now.

“Now, are you going to listen, or are you going to continue to argue and waste time?” I ask, tapping my foot. “Or would you like to get to the point where I explain my plan in full and give you the coordinates to get the asshole you’ve been searching years for?”

They look at the coffee table for a long moment then at me before back to the table.

They grab the picture, crumpling and tearing it, a slight tremble in their fingers. The anger and need for revenge build in their gaze.

I have them. I know I do. They want this too much, and the promise of finding more just like them and taking them out is too much for them to resist.

When they finally lift their gaze to mine, it’s direct, resigned. “You’re going to help me kill him?”

“I’m not going to do anything, but if you fuck up this one, you’re on your own. Consider it an incentive to do better this time.”

“And these others you’re talking about?”

“I’ll explain more once I have things in place.” I nod at Mishka, who reaches into his pocket and slips out the letter. He tosses it to the couch. “Read that and contact the number at the bottom once you decide. You have twenty-four hours. I suggest you make that decision quickly.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

“Then you have another twenty-four hours to kill him before I do. Then I’ll be coming after you and your network. Can’t have any loose ends now, can I?”

“You really want to blackmail me into this?” they snarl.

I shrug. “I never said I was a good person. Actually, current company would say I’m a shit person. I’ve given you what you want, and I have a mission that matches you. You want to find out more, you read that, decide, and contact me.”

“And how the hell do I know it’s not a trap? That this isn’t just some way to see my weaknesses, toy with me, and then kill me?”

“A risk you have to take. Life is full of them, and most are too cowardly to take them. That’s not you. You’ve been through a hell of a lot more than most, and this is your chance to do something bigger and greater than what you’ve accomplished so far.” I make my way around the room to stand behind Mishka.

He stiffens but doesn’t move. Amusement bursts. This has to be killing him. I love fucking with him.

“I have a particular hate for those who hurt children. I may not have many morals, but that is one of them. You hate them as well, and we can take down some of the worst out there while keeping those who allow it in check. Your sister suffered enough. You did too. And instead of going after the cause, you have a chance to go after the roots. Really start making a difference. The choice is up to you. I suggest you think it over. Let’s go,” I order Mishka as I walk to the door.

They won’t try to shoot us. I can see the wheels in their head turning as they eye the envelope on the couch.

I’ve got them.

Now, on to the next one. That one should be a hell of a lot easier.

Well, as long as I don’t get eaten. Good thing Mishka’s got an affinity for animals, because this one is going to require it.

1 Day Later: Los Angeles, California

Our second stop takes our intrusion much better. They simply shut the door, glance at their pet having a nap in the corner, and toss two throwing knives at me.

Okay, so maybe better isn’t the right word, but I prefer this reaction over screaming or threats like our other stop. Still, like the last stop, they don’t realize until it’s too late I’m not alone.

Mishka subdues them easily, tying their hands and removing the weapons stashed on them. I pick up the two knives, examining them. “Very nice. Excellent craftmanship. I’d say these are from Naryota, right?”

Silence.