Page 16 of The Hitman

Chapter Twelve

Jaxon

T en minutes to midnight, I walk through the living room and recheck every lock and tripwire I installed throughout the house.

I don’t care if it’s the third time I’ve checked them, either.

Because if it were up to me, I would’ve gotten us out of here as soon as we got home from the market, but Callie was insistent that we stay.

She said she’s tired of running, and to be honest, I am, too.

She and Leo sleep soundly, snuggled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. I watch them for a moment, their soft breaths and peaceful expressions squeezing my raw and ragged heart.

There’s nothing I can do to change the trauma I’ve given my nephew, and it kills me to have exposed him to any of this when I had every intention of leaving this life behind.

But for as much as I should regret what’s happened, I don’t. Because if I did, that would mean regretting the very woman who’s comforting him now, and I don’t regret Callie.

I love her.

The gravity of that realization hits harder than any bullet I’ve ever taken. What we have is new and terrifying, but she’s giving me everything I once convinced myself I could never have. And I want to give it back by loving her so fiercely, neither of us will ever doubt it’s real.

I quietly gather a quilt and cover them with it before walking to the back room and preparing for a long night.

After retrieving the flash drive I used to hack Volkov’s computer, I pop it into my laptop and sit back on the bed. The men who attacked us today didn’t have the snake tattoo Volkov’s men bear to show their fealty, which means someone else sent them, and I won’t rest until I figure out who.

Thirty minutes later, the metallic turn of the doorknob pulls me from the screen. The Glock I keep under my pillow is in my hand before I even blink.

The shadow at the door raises a hand submissively. “Easy, killer.”

“Callie.” Her name is a ragged breath as I lower the gun. I flip on the lamp at the bedside and swipe a hand down my face. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“You seem… tense.”

She enters the room holding a steaming mug of something that smells floral and soothing.

Despite the stress weighing on my shoulders, I give her a half-smile. “A little.”

“I just tucked Leo in, but I saw light coming from the doorway. Figured I’d make you some tea.”

I set my laptop aside and take the mug from her hand. “Thank you.”

Sleepy-eyed, she sits on the edge of the bed. She’s sexy as hell in nothing more than a thin tank top and short pajama bottoms, but my gaze snares on her bruised cheek and busted lip.

Anger ignites my insides all over again, but dissipates quickly when she glances at her lap, neck flushing with embarrassment.

“I’m fine. I promise,” she says.

“I know, tough girl.” I inch closer and lift her chin so her eyes are fixed on me. “I know.”

The urge to kiss her overwhelms me, so I press my lips to the edges of hers softly, tenderly. Tucking the three words I plan to give her soon beneath each one while avoiding the swollen cut in the center.

“Mmm,” she hums dreamily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I brush my thumb along her jaw. “But that was me practicing restraint. If you weren’t hurt, I’d be a lot less gentlemanly.”

“Promises, promises.” Her nose scrunches, and she gives me a playful shove before her eyes fall to the computer screen beside us. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she jokes, but her gaze says she knows how serious this is.

My laptop chimes beside us, flashing with an email notification. We exchange wary glances before I pick it up and turn it so she can read along with me.

“What is it?” she asks.

“I’m not sure. I don’t recognize the sender.”

But only a select few have access to my personal email, and the cryptic subject line makes me dread what’s waiting inside.

Insurance – R.

I don’t hesitate to open it, but when I see a grainy video attachment of Remi in a dimly lit office, my heart rate spikes.

“Knight, if you’re seeing this, I’m already gone.

” My stomach clenches as my friend confirms my fear.

“You should know I’ve been organizing a rebellion against the Syndicate.

I’ve attached documents, receipts, and photos for you to go through as proof of how that bastard Carmine has been playing us all. But mostly… I’m sorry.”

The video glitches in and out as he briefly glances away from the camera, but I’m holding my breath, hanging on every word.

“They discovered my involvement the night you and I made contact about Volkov’s location, and I’ve been on the run ever since. Look, you’re not getting this just because I’m dead or because they hired Volkov to kill you. Carmine thinks you’re leading the rebellion that’s trying to take him out.”

He holds up a weathered letter with my old moniker stamped at the bottom of it—a reaper with twin pistols. His frown darkens the circles beneath his eyes.

“I don’t know who started using it, but your mark’s everywhere now.

Emails. Letters. Patches sewn into the lining of uniforms. You’ve become their symbol, Knight.

” Remi sighs deeply. “And Carmine won’t stop coming for you now.

So I’m giving you everything I’ve got. The choice to lead them is yours, or maybe you can find a way out of this like you always do. Either way, I’m sorry.”

The screen cuts to black.

“Who was that?” Callie asks, but my mind’s locked on six words.

They hired Volkov to kill you.

“Remi. He was a hitman before he started running logistics for the Blackwell Syndicate, and he was helping me track down Volkov after Isa’s hit. He’s the one who gave me his address.”

I swallow hard, my gut pinching at the loss. I’ve never allowed myself to have a true friend, but if I had, it would’ve been him.

“But it looks like the Syndicate had already put things into motion. They gave him my location before I ever had his. By the time I got to Volkov’s place, he was already headed to mine.”

As if that night is fresh on her mind, fear flicks through her gaze. She’s quick to shake it off, but I regret putting her in a position to be afraid in the first place.

She nods at the computer. “What else did he send you?”

We go file by file, scrolling through everything Remi left behind. Kill lists, financial records, coded transmissions, and the damage they carry hits like a freight train.

When Callie finds a message from another hitman and reads it aloud, a chill slithers through my bones. “They don’t kill to protect. They kill to bury the truth.”

“Goddammit,” I mutter. “We were led to believe we were working for the good guys… That we were the vigilantes dismantling the corrupt and saving humanity, but the Syndicate has been the real enemy all along.”

I slide the laptop toward her, watching her brows furrow as she picks through the files. One of them opens into a folder marked Decommissioned Assets .

“You’re right. Most of these people they’ve killed aren’t criminals,” she says. “They’re whistleblowers, lawmakers, journalists, even kids . But… why?”

I have her click open another document, one with pages full of fraudulent bank transfers.

“Because they’re using shell accounts to launder money and using people like Isa to scrub them without knowing what they’re doing.

They’re sitting on trillions of dollars, with investors in every pocket of the world working with them.

They’re powerful. And they’ll eliminate anything that threatens that power. ”

I point to a familiar photo. “This is Isa’s former boss. He’s the one who ordered the hit on her for asking questions.”

“So when Remi said they hired Volkov, he meant that he wasn’t acting alone,” she murmurs.

“Right. I thought Volkov came after Isa out of revenge because I killed his brother, and I thought he came after me for the same reason. But he was acting under orders from Carmine the whole time.” I shake my head. “Now, with this rebellion wearing my name, he won’t stop until I’m dead.”

“Because The Reaper resurfacing means you’re more than a threat.” Her brows pinch. “Not because of what you know, but because of what you represent.”

“Exactly.” I rest my elbows on my knees, head in my hands.

We stare at the screen in solemn silence.

Her hand finds my knee, and I take it in mine like a lifeline.

“Callie,” I say, kissing her knuckles, then pressing them to my cheek. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for dragging you into this.”

Her face softens. “I went into this willingly , Jaxon. And I’m not going to abandon you or Leo now.”

I pull her onto my lap, holding her with hands that have taken lives, whether it was deserved or not. The same hands she’s washing clean every time she chooses to stay.

I don’t deserve this woman, but I will torch the goddamn world for her.

“We need a plan,” I murmur while tucking her hair behind her ear.

“We already have one.”

That little smirk makes my dick throb. “Tell me.”

“They want you to disappear, so disappear. I say, let’s kill The Reaper and let the rebels take care of the rest.”

I kiss her bare shoulder, lowering the thin strap of her pajama top, then the other. “I’m listening…”

“We fake your death,” she says. “Let them find the body. Or the footage. Or whatever proof we decide to give them. Make them believe The Reaper’s dead. That you’re no longer a threat, and meanwhile, the rebellion keeps rising—without you in the crosshairs.”

“And let the Syndicate take all the credit for killing me?” I grin against her breast, nipping at her supple skin.

“Exactly.” She huffs a laugh before moaning softly. “They know there’s a rebellion, but they think taking you out is the endgame. If they knew how many were actually involved, they’d be a hell of a lot more aggressive.”

I buck my hips beneath her when her nails graze my scalp. She tugs at my hair, tipping my head back with the kind of sexy confidence that unravels me.

“And if that’s not enough?” I exhale a throaty groan as she grinds on my aching cock.

“Then we bluff.” She peels my shirt off, followed by her flimsy one, and the heat of her chest pressed to mine drives me mad with need. “You’ll tell them if they don’t let you walk—for real this time—then The Reaper comes back with a vengeance.”

“You really think they’ll buy it?”

“They have to,” she says. “Because if they don’t, they’ll be making an enemy they can’t control.”

I roll us sideways to give her easier access to the waistband of my sweats. When her greedy fingers cup my balls, then work their way up my shaft, my eyes roll back with pleasure.

Without wasting another minute, I strip the last of our clothing off and position myself between her thighs.

“You’ll help the rebels strengthen their numbers,” she pants as I tease her entrance with the tip. I glide up and down her clit, soaking myself with the warm liquid pooling between her lips. “You’ll become more than a ghost. You’ll become their worst nightmare.”

Sweat gathers at my brow as I edge us both a little longer.

“That just might work.”

“You’re not the only one with tricks, warden.”

My nickname on her lips, the only one I truly want, is what crumbles my resistance. Her heels dig into my ass when I slide deep, and she arches her back, bringing her perfect tits to my mouth.

Black spots pock my vision from the sheer ecstasy of her pussy. How she grips me tight, squeezing and riding until I’m shaking above her.

“Callie.” I drape her leg over my shoulder and angle myself deeper.

“Yes?”

I pepper kisses along her calf, admiring how her hair’s a wild mess. Her cheeks and skin are flushed so beautifully, so fucking right .

“I love you.” I taste the words for the very first time. And then, because I need her to hear the conviction behind them, I repeat, “ I love you. ”

Her pink lips part on a gasp, eyes widening, and then she detonates my heart with a brilliant smile. “I love you, too.”

I reach between us to massage her clit, spreading my fingers on either side the way she likes.

And when she bears down on me, giving me the sweet release I’m after, I shudder.

My ears are ringing by the time I fill her sweet pussy with everything I have, but we never look away from each other. Not for a second.

My heart thunders wildly when, eventually, I collapse beside her.

We can’t keep our hands off each other—gliding them across our sweat-slicked skin, grazing the planes of our necks and faces—simply basking in this moment as if it might be our last.

“It won’t be.” Her voice is whisper-soft. I hadn’t realized I voiced my fears aloud, but steady, strong, and always my anchor, she adds, “They’ll accept our bargain because they won’t have any other choice.”

I caress her cheek with the backs of my fingers and press my lips to hers.

“Then let’s give them hell, baby.”