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My arm around his neck and dragging him back.

I preferred it this way.

Him flailing and afraid.

His blood screaming through his body. I had my gun holstered and my knife unsheathed in a flash, my mouth at his ear.

“How many innocents have you killed, do you think?”

“I lost count, but I can assure you they were an easy sacrifice to make.” He laughed a disgusting sound. No care, no remorse.

No way out.

He already knew.

“They counted to someone,” I said before I forced back his head and swiped my blade across his exposed throat.

Blood gushed and poured, and I let him go. Facedown, he jerked and twitched and gurgled as the life drained from his veins.

I didn’t stop myself.

I reached out and slashed an H onto his shoulder blade.

An oath to my wrath.

To this penalty.

Then I turned and stormed back across his room and out his balcony door. Tossed myself over the railing and glided down.

In silence, I met my crew back at the gate, and we dipped out undetected and unnoticed.

We piled back into the van, and I slid the door shut just as Regan turned over the ignition, made a three-point turn, and eased back down the lane.

While our phones went off in sync, exactly at 12:35.

Silas

Done.

Phoenix

Done.

Me

Done.

Brody

Exactly fucking right it is.

Regan shifted and smirked back at me before he pulled out onto the road, while I ripped my mask off and gulped for air.

For sanity.

For clarity.

For who I was to make sense.