“Don’t.” I cut him off. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Okay. What’s the plan?” He asks, and I sense more than the typical‘I need to know so I know what to clean’ in his voice. It’s almost like he is mad at me for doing this.
Well, he’s not the only one.
“There is no plan. I don’t know what I am getting myself into. I’m just going to roll with it and improvise.”
“Roll with it? Improvise? What the fuck, Victoria. No, this is not you.” Alex is basically screaming at this point. “You don’t have to do this.”
He is wrong, I do have to do this.
I don’t want him dead, but I also don’t want to live not knowing what would happen if I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger.
“I will handle it alone. And have a plan for Cat, the sitter will leave in three hours.”
The cat. Why am I planning like I will not come out of this alive? It’s a job, it’s not like Azrael will kill me. He’s had the chance many times, and he hasn’t taken it. In fact, I was the one who had the weapon pointed at him, and he always let me decide, not protesting once.
Then what is all this? What is this job? Why am I talking like I’ll not be alive to see the end of this?
I hear the soft exhale through his mic. That quiet sound of resignation, he knows this is the last time we’re talking.
“Call me after. Send my love to the Doctor,” he says.
“Don’t wait up,” I say, and I end the call.
He shouldn’t, to be honest. If I’m right, the man I shared a bed with way too many times has trapped me and is now about to kill me. Again. Chances are, I will not make it out of there alive. Fuck, I might as well say my goodbyes.
Alex’s message comes through.
Alex: Target location confirmed. Tonight, 02:45.
I stare at the screen, waiting for the message to start making sense. Istanbul tonight, mission. A mission, just like always, a mission to kill someone. But this time, it is not just someone, it is the Professor. My Professor.
Azrael.
Malek.
Or whatever the fuck he likes to call himself these days.
I press my forehead to the cold glass of the hotel window with Istanbul’s skyline blinking underneath. Despite the sea of blackness over the Bosphorus, everything is pulsing, alive around me.
I’m too lightheaded, incapable of focusing on reality. It’s like I’m watching my life from afar, a spectator to my show, and I can’t feel the ground beneath me.
I close my eyes, trying to summon hate. I try to feel the rage that should have ignited like wildfire when I realize why he left me. Lied to me. Played me like a pawn.
But all I feel is hollow. I see it happening, yet I refuse to believe it. What did they say? Right. “Psychologically incompatible with conducting experiments on humans,” and now I finally understand the reason.
Because I knew the truth long before Alex said it, long before the intel confirmed it. Iknewwho Malek was. Ever since I’d done my research after the warehouse meeting. I knew Azrael had changed his identity after his failed-not-failed government experiment. I just didn’t believe he would put me in this situation, to fear for my life while willingly doing exactly what he wants.
Even now, I’m still not hesitating.
“I could walk away,” I whisper to no one.
But I know there is no way I could live with myself if I do that. I’ve made my decision, and I need to see it through to the end. If this is what will kill me, it is long overdue anyway.Fourteen years overdue.
My weapon collection is already on the bed, and I’m supposed to start the planning recap, but my mind is spinning.
I’ve done this dozens of times, haven’t I? But this time, it’s personal. It’s not about the money, nor is it about the thrill of killing or the pleasure of the reward wine at the end. This is about me.