Two days ago, I’d received a message from Fallon Byrne. A woman under her care wanted to employ the Shadows for a revenge mission. I’d sent the notice to Obi, and he’d immediately insisted I take the meeting as soon as possible—according to him, I was the closest member to her location, so it was my responsibility. But when I was doing my standard reconnaissance on the safe house the Irish had stashed her in yesterday, I sniffed out a trafficking ring nearby, and I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t look away. I had been given these skills, and it was my duty to use them for as much good as possible.
That’s why Obi always sent me on the more sensitive missions. Out of all of us, my moral compass pointed themostNorth. I believed in restoring the balance after we’d done our work.
We were assassins, but we also had these skills for a reason. Using them to save innocent people was my way of re-balancing the cosmic scales. I’d taken so much life that I owed the universe an outstanding debt. Eventually, I’d earn my redemption.
Sex trafficking was a scourge on the face of this earth—and I knew from experience. As a member of the Shadows, I had witnessed all manner of terrible things. Things no human being should experience. I had lived through it, killed through it, and made my fortune from it.
But I had a personal vendetta against sex trafficking, and any chance I’d get to take down a link in the chain, I would take it. That’s why I only had tonight.
Once I finished cleaning up this mess and saving those women, I would take the meeting to appease Obi, but thechances this woman could afford our services were slim. It did not matter to me personally; if she couldn’t, I’d go back to the job. Missions, money, make up for my past.
One day, I’d earn salvation and the privilege of being good again.
I laid on the rafters and watched through my scope as the final three women were led inside the warehouse. Two blondes—one wearing a sequin sweater that caught even the grungy, dim light—and a brunette.
Those three women made a total of ten, the exact number that left earlier in the evening. Through my scope I confirmed they were the same faces, no new victims. Thank God for small mercies.
My hands clenched on my gun as the leader sauntered in behind them, his lips loosely holding a cigarette. He laughed when six other men started pulling cash out of their pockets, collecting it, and handing it to him to count. Four other guards were around the building, so that meant eleven in total.
Now that they were back and the women were confirmed safe, there was no reason to wait. Their time was up.
I aimed back at the leader and inhaled slowly and silently. With the exhale, I squeezed the trigger of my rifle. In an instant, his head flew backward, blood splattering on the wall before he collapsed to the ground. The cash splayed on the ground beside him, quickly becoming soaked in his blood and brain matter.
Everything was silent for precisely three seconds as the leader’s men watched in horror and realized they had no idea where the bullet had come from.
I smiled and pulled the trigger three more times.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
Three more silenced bullets and three more bodies slumped to the ground in a pool of their piss and blood. All within fifteen seconds.
The girls started screaming. I trained my scope on where they were huddled amid seven used mattresses. They were unharmed, just scared.
The four remaining men inside the building had drawn their weapons and were frantically searching for the source of the bullets, but they’d never find me. I was invisible up here. A shadow.
My rifle trained on another, and my finger moved to squeeze?—
“Fire again, and I’ll kill the girls!” One of the men screamed as the three others circled the women. Shouts and whimpers came from the huddled group. “Do it, I dare you!”
I expected this. It was standard behavior—when threatened, take hostages. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in this situation.
“Surrender, and we’ll let the girls live!”
I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Surrender? I could drop them all in seconds. But I did fear that at least one bullet would be fired, and any collateral damage to the victims was unacceptable. They’d been through too much.
I had a distraction planned for this exact purpose. A little explosive was placed in one of the small offices—probably used as a foreman’s office when the warehouse was operational—that I would detonate whenever needed. It wasn’t strong enough to harm anyone, but it should be enough to turn their heads for a few seconds, giving me plenty of time to drop the rest of them.
My fingers moved to tap the button on the tablet next to me, but two more gunshots echoed from within the building.
What was that? The guards outside?
But why would they be shooting?
“Stefan, are you there?” one of the traffickers said into a radio. “We’re under attack!”
I paused a few more moments. The entire room waited to see if that guard would respond.
“Stefan?!” The man shouted into the radio again. No response.
