CHAPTER 1 RAVEN'S POV:The silencer coughs once, a soft, almost child-like, like a suppressed sneeze in a quiet library, and the mark drops like a sack of wet cement, his body folding in on itself with an undignified thud. His cheek smacks against the cold marble floor of his penthouse kitchen, the impact echoing slightly in the vast, open space, and blood starts pooling immediately, dark and viscous, spreading out in lazy, irregular fingers under the harsh, unforgiving glow of the pendant lights hanging like judgmental chandeliers above the island counter. The river view through the floor to ceiling glass windows mocks the entire scene, Manhattan's skyline glittering indifferently in the distance, a million twinkling lights that seem to say, "Another life snuffed out in this city? Who gives a damn?" I step over him without a second glance, my boot narrowly avoiding the edge of the stain as it creeps toward the grout lines. It is done, lingering on the dead is a luxury I can't aff
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