NEW TARGET

Sergei's pov 

I hated loose ends.

I hated them more than sloppy employers, more than late payments, more than blood that wouldn't wash out of my clothes.

But this loose end? This fucking kid?

I wanted to crush his windpipe with my bare hands.

He had me chasing him halfway across Vanguard City, through alleys that smelled like piss, over dumpsters where even the rats didn't linger. All because he accidentally walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

The professor was easy.

Williams hadn't been a fighter— he was a talker, a beggar, one of those desperate men who thought their tongue could save them from anything.

Then the kid ruined everything.

I pressed my back to the cold wall of the stairwell, taking planned steps. I was going  to kill him, and I wasn't going to give him a chance to run away again.

His scream was basically a homing signal, leading me straight to him. Like I said, stupid.

His voice floated through the cracked doorway of the room above. “Please, I didn't want—”

I followed the sound to a door and peeked into it, to get a look at the unfortunate souls that he was talking to, who would have to die with him.

I saw two silhouettes in tailored suits, one leaning over him.

I blinked, scarcely believing my eyes when I focused on their faces.

Two sets of impossibly calm eyes, shoving a sack over my target's head. 

Two brothers whose names are synonymous with death.

My entire body went ice-cold immediately.

Fuck.

Ivan and Nikolai Volkov.

I had to get the fuck out of there.

I turned around slowly, silently. I didn't need this kind of trouble. The last thing I wanted to do was catch their attention. They never missed a kill, no matter who it was.

I was halfway down the stairs when a gunshot cracked through the building.

I froze, and once I was sure that the bullet hadn't hadn't found me, a slow, satisfied smile tugged at my lips.

Good. The stupid kid is dead.

One less problem, one loose end tied.

I reached the bottom floor, stepped outside into the biting night air, and only when I was far enough from the building did I take out my phone and dial.

The line rang just once.

“Yeah?” my boss answered, casually, like he was asking about the weather.

“Hey, boss. I’m done. The professor’s dead.” I couldn't help the pride in my voice. He’d been annoying to track down.

The man chuckled. “Good. And nobody saw you?”

My heart gave the tiniest, traitorous twitch.

But the only eyewitness— the kid — was definitely dead. And, besides, I was wearing a mask the entire time.

“No one saw me.”

“Good,” he said, tone dropping lower. “Because Williams was a big shot, and the university’s going to want to know who took him out. If my name so much as whispers in that direction, you and I are going to have a problem. Understand?”

I swallowed hard. Dead kid, and mask, I reminded myself. I was fine. “I understand.”

“Good. Now— I have a new job for you.”

My stomach sank.

Another job already?

“I don’t know how you’ll do it,” he continued, “but I want it done soonest. Or else… well, you know what’s on the line.”

A chill rushed down my spine. “Who…” My mouth feels dry. “Who do you want me to kill, boss?”

There was a pause; a sinister pause filled with satisfaction. “I want the twins dead.”

The world stopped. I blinked rapidly, confused. The twins…. Surely he didn't mean…

“The twins?” I croaked, hoping I'd misheard him. “Like the twins?”

“Yes. The Volkov twins. Ivan and Nikolai. I want their heads.”

I stared into the dark street. Was he fucking insane?

The Volkov twins were untouchable.

Worse than untouchable— they were unstoppable.

Italian-American mafia royalty. Ruthless, brilliant, devastatingly efficient killers.

And he wanted me to try to assassinate them?

Fucking madness.

“I can’t do it,” I said, through gritted teeth, trying to sound firm. “That’s suicide, painful suicide.”

“Oh, that’s too bad…” my boss cooed. Then gunshots echoed through the phone, followed by a scream.

A small, fragile, terrified feminine scream.

No!

My blood turned to ice.

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” I snarl, voice breaking in fear.

What if he had already shot her? What if he hurt her already? I knew he was sick enough to try it.

“Oh, I won’t,” he said lightly. “Not as long as you fulfill your end of the bargain. You will fulfill your end of the bargain… right?”

My throat bobbed.

I tasted fear.

I tasted rage.

He didn't understand. She was all I had— she was the only thing in this entire rotting world I give a damn about.

“I don’t have time, Sergei,” he warned. “Make your choice. My trigger finger’s getting twitchy.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll do it!” The words tore out of me before I could stop them.

There was a loud silence. Then a satisfied hum. “Good. Call me when you’re done.”

“Wait,” I mutter, voice strained. 

“What is it, Sergei?”

“If I kill them… you let her go.”

He laughed, laughed so maniacally I thought he must be joking.

“Kill the twins,” he said, “and if you’re still alive… I’ll think about it.”

Then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, thinking about the impossible job looming over my head.

“Fuck you, Darnell,” I whispered, shaking with anger and frustration.

I was about to turn away when movement caught my eye.

A sleek black car rolled to a stop beside the abandoned building. The driver stepped down and opened doors, just as the twins stepped out— dark, elegant, expressionless.

Ivan was carrying something slung over his shoulder.

A body.

They reached the car. The driver nodded to them, almost a bow.

Ivan dropped the corpse into the trunk with a dull thud. Nikolai shut it, the sound loud in the quiet night.

They climbed into the backseat as the driver got back into the front and the car pulled away, disappearing down the street.

I watched the tail lights fade.

The Volkov twins.

My new targets.

And my inevitable death sentence.