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We were the distraction. The ones meant to cause the death of someone important to distract the world from looking at them.
Fury burns in my belly. It’s not enough what they’ve done to us in the past or what they continue to do to some, but they want us to be a part of this plan without direct knowledge. Not because they’re worried about our consciences, but because we’re dutiful soldiers expected to follow orders and question nothing.
Yet I’m not surprised at any of the information. The world is a dark, cruel place, and I play my part.
I force the anger down and look into Mila again. She’s been sent to an all-girls boarding school in Switzerland. A place where rich kids are sent by their parents to learn the best, but also to be kept out of reach of those who wish them harm. It’s also the first place any self-respecting assassin would look.
Damn it, Romanov. I’ve seen a few different contracts go out with that as a location to start with, which means I need to look again. See just who is going after her for the Butcher or Timur Belov. Though it’s probably one and the same at this point.
The Butcher has plans, and I’m one of the few who has figured them out. He wants ultimate power, realizing how much people in this world will pay for elite assassins to be on only their payroll. And he’s not going to stop in Russia where most of them have settled. He’s got his eyes on the Americas, Asia, and most of the inner European countries.
Making those connections takes time, and while patience is one of his strengths, even a man as power hungry as Pasha Antonov has his limits. From the constant communications, he’s approaching that limit quickly. He’s requested more students for the school, more women to breed, and more stock to sell.
Stock. That’s all women and children are to him. Not even worthy to be considered human. That’s what he called us, wasn’t it? He put so many of the other students in the ground simply for not living up to his standards. A risk their families knew would be possible. No families sent their top children, only the ones they wouldn’t feel too badly about losing.
I try not to let my own bitterness sink in. I’ve accepted my fate, and I’ve embraced the darkness that has fueled me, but even now, I still have some scruples.
Like not allowing a teenage girl to suffer because of men who want to take down her uncle.
I log into the dark website where the assignments are sent and accepted or rejected, and it doesn’t take me long to find the one I’m looking for.
Mila Romanova.
Target Age: 13
Objective: Retrieve and deliver
Successful completion: $10,000,000
Ten million for a teenager? The contract was accepted, but it only shows the initials of the codename they use.
Accepted: IM
Igor Makarov. He calls himself the Ice Man—a ridiculous code name I should kill him for using in the first place—and thinks of himself as one of the best.
I’ve been wanting an excuse to kill him. His stupidity and arrogance shouldn’t be allowed to live or procreate.
Those are the only details, but some digging and tracing leads me back to the order coming through from Timur Belov. My gut tells me there’s more to it. There’s no way a man like him would be willing to pay that much money for a hit on a child.
Especially one he’s not planning on keeping around for himself. But there’s no kill order. So where do they plan on putting her? No possibility I can come up with is a good one.
I look at the date again. The request was sent yesterday. I glance at the clock, and my lips thin. I have no time to get there myself to handle Marakov, but I can at least ensure he’s not successful.
I pull up another encrypted message thread and send a message.
Extraction or Protection-Mila Romanova. Double usual fee. IM on route.
The answer is almost immediate.
Confirmed.
I relax marginally, but that doesn’t mean I’m done. I have a lot more work to do. This entire revelation has only cemented what I’ve been toying with in my head for years.
The criminal world will never cease to exist, and it runs unchecked. Those who run it have forgotten they are not immortal. Untouchable.
Maybe it’s unthinkable that an assassin has a conscience or some kind of moral compass, but it’s there, even if it’s cracked and bent.
I draw the line at sexual trafficking. Especially of children. And it’s time to remind these fuckers what happens when you cross me. Pasha Antonov and Timur Belov will be the first on my list to go. It will be a brutal message, and it will put a target on my back, but nothing is without risks.
