Page 90 of The Hitman’s Final Job

Why do I have the feeling my heart, the tiny part that isn’t on the other side of the surgery doors with my son, is about to get broken?

“Okay.”

He holds my gaze. “The reason I know there’s a threat is because I’m the threat.”

I laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about? Don’t even joke about this. Rowan is on the other side of those doors, fighting for his life.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Then tell me why you are the threat.”

“Because I was hired to kill you.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

SILAS

Vaughn stumbles back, his face wearing an expression I’ve never seen on him. I pace the room in front of him, my body vibrating with too much nervous energy.

“When I was at college with Rowan,” I say, “I wanted to do something to help people.” I stop pacing for a moment. “I grew up in foster care—I told you that. And what I wanted was to help people who couldn’t help themselves. People who were in the system the way I was in the system. People who were vulnerable because of who they were or where they were or what they didn’t have.”

Vaughn is staring at me like I’m someone he doesn’t recognize. Like I grew a different head.

“Rowan wouldn’t stop talking about the FBI, so I applied because it seemed like a good way to help people. Rowan and I did everything together: the applications, the tests, the assessments, all of it. We trained together. We studied together. He was twenty-one, and I was twenty-five. and we were going to do this together … Rowan got in.”

“And you didn’t,” Vaughn says. His voice is flat. Not unkind. Just flat.

“No,” I say. “But not because I failed. I didn’t fail any of the assessments. My scores were exceptional. The photographic memory, the psychological profile, the physical testing—all of it. I didn’t get into law enforcement because I got into something else first.”

Vaughn is focused on me now, his gaze boring into mine. I have to look away before I can continue.

“There’s an organization,” I say. “Government adjacent. Secret. They receive intelligence about people who commit the worst crimes, the most serious, the most harmful. Things you can’t begin to imagine. But they can’t be brought to justice through conventional means. Because of their connections, money, or political protection. The people who are untouchable by the law because the law has been set to be unable to touch them.”

I glance at Vaughn but his expression gives nothing away.

“The organization recruits people with specific profiles,” I say. “People with certain skills. No family. No connections. No one who would ask questions. I fit the profile exactly.”

Vaughn just stares at me.

“I get intelligence about a target,” I say. “I go in. I kill them. I leave.” I say it plainly because there’s no other way to say it. “That’s what I do. That’s what I’ve done for ten years.”

Vaughn shakes his head. “No.”

I wait, giving him time to work through the bomb I just dropped.

“No, you’re lying.” He huffs. “Am I in a fucking alternative reality right now? My son is on the operating table, and his best friend, who I’ve been sleeping with for three weeks, is standing in a hospital waiting room telling me he’s a— No.”

“I wish I was lying,” I say. “Or in an alternate reality, but that alternate reality is what I’ve been living with you since I got here.”

He gestures for me to continue.

“I quit before Warsaw. I told them I was done, but with an organization like this, you don’t just hand in your notice and go. They wanted one last job.” I trace a seam between two floor tiles with my toe. “That’s why I was in Warsaw. You were the target. I didn’t know who you were … Usually I have more information, but this time I had nothing. I occasionally work with a partner. She was the one who had seen your photo.”

My shoe squeaks, and I realize I’ve been slumped over. I pull myself upright and straighten my shoulders. Vaughn deserves to hear everything.

“When she pointed at you, I thought she was joking. I told her we couldn’t kill you. That’s when I interrupted your date with Seth. I needed him to get out because I didn’t know what was happening.”

“This is surreal,” he says. The words come out quiet and precise, like he’s testing each one before he says it. “This is genuinely surreal.”