Page 23 of The Hitman
My old friend smirks. “You’ve lost weight. Retirement making you soft, Reaper?”
I chuckle at the nickname I never asked for, but wore like a badge of honor, then shake my head.
“Not many successfully retire from Blackwell,” I muse. “Might as well enjoy it.”
“Fucking brag about it, why don’t you.”
He grins as he steps into the dim light, but there’s a darkness beneath his eyes. Like he’s exhausted or dying—or both.
“You know Carmine still talks about you.” He cocks a brow. “Think he’s still upset that you’re the one who got away.”
Carmine Vale is a ghost in fine tailoring. He’s sharp, calculating, and never seen without at least two guards flanking him. He built the Syndicate from blood and bone, and he doesn’t take kindly to loopholes in his otherwise tight-knit contracts.
“I’m sure he is,” I say.
The only way out of Blackwell is to complete the enormous amount of contracts on your head when you’re sworn in. It’s a prison by design, made to keep you serving until you’re no longer of use to them, or you die.
As for me, I was assigned five hundred souls to reap.
Just one year ago, I walked away a free man with every one of them signed, sealed, delivered.
It was supposed to be an impossible task, but they underestimated my drive to rid our society of the worst it has to offer. According to Blackwell’s law, if a hitman achieves his or her marks, the Syndicate owes them a single favor—no limits.
That’s exactly how I ended up contacting Remi several weeks ago. And while Carmine might not like owing his hitmen any goddamn thing, when The Reaper calls, you answer.
I approach with caution. Remi was the closest thing I had to a best friend before I stepped away from the job. Before he started running logistics for Blackwell, we were hitmen together, and I’ve saved his ass nearly as many times as he’s saved mine.
But even friends can put a knife in your back if you’re not careful.
“This is his place?” I quickly memorize the address on the slip of paper he hands me before stuffing it in my pocket.
“That’s it.”
I interrogated a couple of stragglers from Volkov’s crew last week, but it ended in a bloody disaster and left me with little hope of actually tracking him down. Thanks to Remi and the Syndicate, though, I’ve finally got that asshole right where I want him.
I nod, eager to get going. “Give Carmine my thanks.”
Remi shifts, rubbing the back of his head before flicking his eyes back to me. “I’m sorry about what happened to Isa. That bastard Volkov and his men… They’re heartless.”
I nearly scoff at the irony. “It makes sense. I killed his brother.”
“Alexei Volkov deserved what came for him,” he says, and he’s right.
Someone had to put a stop to his sex trafficking empire, and I was the only hitman they had who actually accomplished the task.
“Thanks.”
“You bet.” He turns for the door to the stairwell, and before he leaves, he says, “Stay safe, Knight.”
Relief courses through me after we part ways, and at the forefront of my thoughts is Callie. Her giggles, her quick wit, her relentless challenging. I’m excited to finish this job and get home to her. To finish what we started the night she danced her way around my heart. To dare to dream for more in my life than bloodshed and hiding.
My motorcycle rumbles to life as I prepare to head toward what will be the final chapter.
I didn’t want to lie to Callie about Isabella, but I had to stretch the finer details. Especially because I couldn’t bear to tell her that it was my fault Dimitri Volkov tried to kill my sister in the first place.
When Isa mentioned working for Nathan Hale—a respected venture capitalist known for funding clean energy startups andsitting on half a dozen philanthropic boards—I did something I never did, and naïvely took his reputation at face value instead of checking his background like I should’ve.
Turns out, he was one of Volkov’s guys, and no matter how hard I’ve tried to keep her and Leo safe from my past, he connected the dots, anyway. Which means I need to end this before another woman I care about gets caught in the crosshairs.
