Page 126 of Silent Schemes

The laugh vanishes first.

It always does.

Regret curls in my throat, and I know it won’t be long until I ask my contact for another copy.

She is under my skin, the way she was five long years ago.

I light a cigarette, draw it deep, let the smoke coat the back of my throat.

I watch the flames and think about nothing.

Nothing, except the way her eyes looked that night.

How easy it was to let her go, and how hard it is to stay in the shadows and not tear the world apart trying to find her.

Findthem.

The room fills with smoke and the smell of burning plastic.

The last of the photo flakes away, turning the air into a snowstorm of ghosts.

When I finish the whiskey, I break the glass in my hand.

Not on purpose, but I let the blood bead up, red as the pins on the map downstairs.

I hold the pain a while, then light another cigarette.

I keep my eyes on the fire.

I breathe. I wait for the ache to go away.

It never does.

But I’m getting better at hiding it.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Another kill, another payment, another night of pretending it’s all just business.

I sit in the dark, knuckles dripping, eyes burning, and let the world turn.

The Lombardis come at eight sharp.

Four of them, none related, but they all wear the same grease-caked suits.

Enzo is the only one who counts—the other two are here to carry packages and bodies, in that order.

Korrin brings them up to my office and lingers in the corner, just inside the door.

He has a mug of black coffee in one hand and his favorite hunting knife in the other.

The knife is just for show, but it works… one of the mooks won’t meet my eyes, and the other keeps tracing his own neck like he’s already picturing the cut.

Enzo starts the conversation before the door clicks shut. “Varrick. You are looking well.”

I gesture to the chair opposite my desk, but he ignores it, like he’s afraid to sit down. “You have something for me, Enzo, or you’re wasting everyone’s time.”

He nods to his left.