Page 37 of Assassin: Part 1

I look at Simeon. Really look at him. He’s our way in, even if he is too fucking to stupid that he’s setting himself up to fail. I will never allow him to run a territory, but if this means I can take out Timur and take over the territory myself, along with all the ports and pipelines he’s been running for years, then it’s a win-win for me.

I look at Zakhar, silently asking his thoughts. He jerks his chin.

We’re not afraid of a war, but we need to be careful. Very careful.

“Then I suggest we get planning, Simeon,” I state, leaning forward. “And the first thing you’re going to do is contact the assassin and let them know we’re involved. Until we hear of confirmation, we plan. That includes you keeping your mouth fucking shut.”

Zakhar pulls the gun away from his head, and Simeon glares at him before turning back to me. Relief settles over his expression. “Okay. When do we start?”

“You aren’t doing anything right now other than contacting the assassin. Zakhar and I will work on the other parts. Rayea Antonova, you’re sure she wants her father dead?”

“Oh yeah. Mishka used to tell me all kinds of fucked-up shit the guy did to his own kids. Especially her. She’s the oldest, and she was meant to excel. She failed, and he never let her forget it.”

Good, we can use that. “Zakhar, see him out. Oh, and Simeon, do not ever enter my fucking territory again without permission. Get a new burner. It’s the only way you will communicate with us going forward; are we clear?”

He nods, eyes bright as he gets to his feet.

I hope like fuck this asshole knows what he’s unleashed, or that he’s probably signed his own death warrant.

Looking back at the piece of paper with the insignia at the bottom, I also have to hope I haven’t signed the rest of ours either.

15

LANE

LOCATION: UNKNOWN

“Really? Couldn’t you have cleaned up before you came? Now we’re going to have to scrub and bleach this entire thing.”

The annoyed voice doesn’t faze me as I sit in the only vacant chair left. I give them a slow, smug smile. “That’s your problem. The time was chosen, and you get what you get. A little blood never hurt anyone anyway. Especially not when it comes from watching a guy choke to death on his severed dick and balls. I started with the balls first, just to really get him going. Then when he tried to spit them back out at me, well, I couldn’t have that. His dick, as tiny as it was, helped make an excellent plunger. Really forced them down.”

All of them stare at me with their smiles stretched across their faces, annoyance gone. We’re all just a little insane. You have to be to be in this line of work, after all.

“With the job being done, I’d say we can move on to the next target. I have the perfect one already selected.” The voice is cold, calculating, but there’s a hint of anticipation just under the surface. They’ve adopted the title Reaper, and it’s stuck. At least it’s accurate. They’re the ones who mark them for death, gathering all the information we need to make the next move.

To ensure no identities slip, I insisted we adopt code names. No point in being too familiar, is there? They all agreed to this mission, and while our start was rocky, things are moving along exactly as I planned.

I haven’t dropped the bomb on the big plan yet, testing the waters with them first to ensure it is going to work. I’m not about to waste my time if I end up having to kill them all before we get to that point.

Next to Reaper is Hunter—that name was all my idea—and finally Enforcer. Enforcer and Hunter butt heads regularly. Makes for lively meetings.

All laughter stops, and neutral expressions return, but I know better. They’re all ready to make the next move, irritated to be sitting idle for so long.

“The next target will be yours to handle,” I state. “I have things to oversee.” It will be the first of a couple of tests to ensure they can handle things on their own, or if I have to come back and clean up the mess.

“Things?” Hunter repeats, skeptical. Reaper’s eyes narrow.

“Nothing that concerns you.” I let the hard edge to my tone convey my point that I won’t be discussing it further. “Your missions are simple. Find targets, get rid of them. I don’t need to be involved in every part of it.”

They share glances but don’t argue. “And if we require your assistance?” Reaper demands sharply.

“Then you know how to reach me. What is the next target you want to put forward?”

“It’s a woman this time. Anna Willis. She’s a nasty piece of work. Likes to kidnap kids, rape them, use them as slaves for a while, then kills them by dumping them in a barrel full of acid. Alive.” Reaper’s lips thin, but it’s the only outward reaction.

No one else reacts. We’re all used to the worst of the worst. We can’t get them all, but we can certainly do our part in culling the herd, as they say.

Though, it’s the first time we’ve had a woman suggested.