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I intentionally leave out the kid’s name.

“Yes! Do you know where Lily is?” Her tone fills with so much panic and hope, her voice turns high pitched. “Have you seen my daughter?”

“She’s at the McDonald’s on Seventh Avenue, Midtown West. Hurry.”

“Who are you? Can I speak to Lily?”

I put the phone to the kid’s ear. “Say hi to your mother.”

“Mommy?” Lily asks, and a second later she bursts out in tears. “Mommy, I’m scared.”

I pick up my pace as I walk to the McDonald’s, making sure to keep my face turned away from any CCTV cameras. It’s become second nature to hide my identity at all times.

Right outside the entrance, I set Lily down and say, “Go inside and wait for your mother.”

The little girl nods and stares at me for a few seconds before she hurries inside, keeping my phone pressed to her ear.

Straightening up, I cross the street, and finding a safe spot near an alley, I watch the McDonald’s and wait.

Not even seven minutes later, sirens sound up, and within a few seconds, emergency lights brighten the area as patrol cars come to a screeching halt.

Knowing Lily will be safe, I hurry down the alley. At the back of a building, I jump over a fence and jog a few miles before I slow down to a brisk walk.

Only then do I allow myself to think about what I just did. Realizing I saved an innocent little life makes some warmth trickle into my black-as-night soul.

I’m not worried about the phone I left with her. I burned off my fingerprints right after I killed my first target.

The corner of my mouth lifts for a moment when I picture Lily safely back in her mother’s arms, then the warmth fades away, and as the darkness returns, I once again play with the idea of killing Bastien Tarasov or turning him in to the authorities. Either will work.

I think about all the evidence I’ve gathered over the years. Everything I have on Bastien is an FBI agent’s wet dream.

Lily’s little face ghosts through my mind.

How many kids have there been?

How many more will there be?

The drugs. The corruption. The sex slaves. The blood. The death.

Not going home, I find myself making my way to the Javits Federal Building, which rises over Manhattan like a monument of authority. But I only see stone and glass, a place where men in suits pretend they hold power.

When I walk through the glass doors, mere seconds pass before an alarm starts blaring.

I’ve spent my entire assassin career hiding in the shadows, and the moment I step into the light, men draw their weapons and shout, “Down on the floor! Hands on your head!”

I sink down to my left knee as I slowly raise my arms.

“We have Rowan Teller in the foyer,” I hear a panicked voice shout while an army of men surrounds me. “Jesus Christ. It’s the Wolf.”

I wonder what Bastien’s reaction is going to be when he’s locked away for life, all because he couldn’t keep his hands off a little girl.

I hope Lily will forget about what happened to her.

I hope she lives a happy life.

These are the thoughts that mull through my mind while I’m forcefully restrained, my body pressed hard into the cold tiles.

I’m tired of this world. I think a prison cell would be a nice change of scenery. Hopefully, I’ll get to watch as some big motherfucker makes Bastien his bitch.