Page 17 of The Hitman

Chapter Thirteen

Jaxon

T wenty-four hours later, I’m dressed in black, my Death Bringers holstered at my sides while I wait for the Syndicate to show their faces.

The derelict train station I picked for this parlay has been rigged with enough explosives and triggers that, should things go south, I’ll have a fighting chance of survival.

The mental image of Callie and Leo huddled together at the bunker in the mountains, anxiously waiting for my call, strengthens my resolve. It killed me to leave them for even a moment, but if this meeting goes the way I want, we can finally put the worst of this behind us.

I clutch the tablet containing the information I hope will spare our lives. Wind howls through broken windows, and my fingers twitch for my guns, but I don’t dare move when the heavy steel doors groan open ahead of me.

Four men step into the building, each one a lethal, towering shadow, packing heat and preparing for a fight. But it’s the fifth who draws my attention.

Carmine Vale.

He’s older than when I last saw him, but the cold bite of his stare hasn’t changed a bit. Carmine ran the Blackwell Syndicate with something resembling honor once. He claimed he only sanctioned necessary kills, claimed our work was for the better good of mankind, and I believed him.

Now I know better.

“I won’t lie to you, Knight. I was surprised you reached out,” he says smoothly, like we’re old colleagues catching up over coffee instead of blood. Like he isn’t fully aware that his men attempted to kill me yesterday. “You’ve been otherwise silent since the last time we spoke.”

“Was trying retirement,” I reply, voice sharp. “Hasn’t quite stuck.”

He smiles faintly. “Few things do.”

One of his men takes the sleek tablet I offer and hands it to him.

The already lit screen reveals the file I sent to it an hour ago with the proof of my death.

Inside is everything from doctored footage of me taking a fatal headshot in Brazil, to a fabricated autopsy report, neatly orchestrated with the help of one of Remi’s rebels.

Though Carmine doesn’t know that.

Carmine studies the footage for a long moment, then finally looks at me. “You went through a lot of trouble to disappear. So what do you want?”

“I want out, for real this time. No strings, no shadows.” I step forward slowly, deliberately. “I’m giving you a choice here, Carmine.”

He scoffs, wafting the tablet toward me. “You’ve already given me what I want. The Reaper is no more. Which means I could kill you where you stand, Knight.”

“You could, but the codes encrypted in that file prevent you from doing anything with it until I give you access to do so.” I lift a shoulder. “Besides, none of you would escape this building alive if you did.”

One of the shorter guys glances around, uneasy.

I don’t have to explain how Callie has access to detonate this place based on the time limits I gave her because the threat is clear on my face.

I nod toward the tablet, stoking his ego even though I know the rebels will end his reign soon enough. “You have everything you need to keep the rebellion from gaining traction… as long as they believe I’m really dead.”

“Are you suggesting I should leak the footage?” he asks, but I see the gleam in his eye. The eagerness to end a legend who threatens the very foundation his organization is built on.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. That video will go to every one of your agents, and in turn, any rebels.

You’ll tell them that thanks to Remi, you know of the rebellion, and the message will be clear that the Syndicate is the one who erased The Reaper.

Then they’ll know that none of them stand a chance against you.

” I step forward again, my tone quiet but loaded.

I lift my phone, hovering over the key that unlocks the file Carmine needs to erase me. “All you have to do is hit send.”

I grit my teeth as I wait for him to take the bait.

We may have buried my legacy, but thanks to Remi’s contacts, I made sure to send a message through all the right channels. The news of my death will circulate through rebel networks, yes, but they’ll know it’s fake. And instead of dousing the flame, they’ll turn my death into a war cry.

Something Carmine is too arrogant to comprehend.

His gaze flickers. “I assume in exchange, you want immunity.”

“Yes. I want every Blackwell agent pulled off me and my family for good.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Assuming we survive the explosives set to blow in the next ten minutes…” I arch a brow. “I’ll come back with a vengeance. I’ll lead the rebellion and expose your kill lists and bank records. I’ll come back, not as The Reaper, but as your reckoning.”

Silence stretches, every second a painful reminder that we’re running out of time.

“End this like the honorable man you once were,” I say. “Release the news, issue a private pardon to me and anyone related to me. Then take your win and get your agents back in line before the rebellion grows teeth.”

Carmine exhales through his nose, leveling me with a glare full of both respect and hatred. He lifts a hand, and his men shift for their guns before he waves them off.

“And what if this rebellion rises without you?” he asks after a moment.

I grin, slow and sharp. “Then you should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

He almost smiles.

Almost.

“We make the oath in blood,” he says after handing off the tablet. One of the men offers him a knife, and he nicks his palm before giving the blade to me. “With witnesses.”

I follow suit, cutting a thin line through my palm, then clasp his hand tightly. “With witnesses.”

I nod toward the body cam strapped to my chest, and his answering grin is tight, measured. I spared no expense in covering my ass, and now he knows it.

“May we never meet again.”

“The fucking dream,” I retort.

He waits for me to release the files, and with my end of the bargain fulfilled, he tips his head before he and his men turn to leave. No fanfare, no more words left to exchange. He simply exits the station as a man who’s been outplayed.

I wait until they drive off before letting myself breathe fully. With two minutes to spare, I call Callie and raise the phone to my ear.

“Jax?”

My knees nearly buckle at the sound of her sweet, trembling voice.

“It’s done,” I say.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. The strangled sob that hitches her throat cracks my chest wide open. “Please come home.”

Home.

I close my eyes, inhaling through the tremor that rocks me.

The Reaper never dreamed of having a home, of having a beautiful, loving woman warming his bed, or of starting a family like the one we’ve become with Leo.

But as I walk out of the train station and back to the people I love, I’ve never been more determined to make those dreams my reality.