"Any last words?" she asks me.
I look at her.
Reallylook at her.
See the plan in her eyes.
The timing.
The angle.
Trust her, even though every instinct screams not to.
"No." I say, speaking coldly.
Then she strikes.
The blade slides between my ribs.
Exactly where she means it to.
Missing everything vital by millimeters.
But the blood...
The blood is real.
I drop, selling it hard.
Gasping.
Choking.
She kneels beside me, knife n hand.
"Goodbye, Jagger," she whispers.
And I swear I hear real emotion there.
Real regret.
Then my world goes dark.
Not unconscious.
Just playing dead.
Listening.
Waiting.
"Satisfied?" Scarlett asks Diego.
"Almost. Bring me his cut," Diego orders.
I hear her moving.
Fabric rustling.