Page 6 of Pretty Little Assassin

“Sit down.”

He sits. They always sit when I tell them to. Not because I raise my voice; I never do. Anger is loud. Violence, done properly, makes almost no sound.

I’ve been told my scent alone is enough to make most people compliant. Alpha pheromones cranked to a frequency that simply says obey.

Ferretti’s eyes are wide, and the carbonara sauce on his chin makes him look even more pathetic than he already is. “Please. Look, I know who sent you. Whatever they’re paying, I’ll double it. Cash.”

“You can’t.”

“Triple.”

“Still no.”

“I have money⁠—”

“You have carbonara on your chin.” I take the chair across from him. “Wipe it off. Have some dignity.”

He wipes it off with a shaking hand. I give him that.

What I don’t give him is time. The garrote wire loops over his head and cinches tight in one smooth motion; Ferretti’s hands claw at his throat. I’m behind him. The wire is surgical steel. There is no version of this where he wins. His legs kick the table. The carbonara plate shatters on the tile.

Waste of good pasta.

I lower his body to the floor, check his pulse out of professional habit, and leave. No calling card tonight. The Primacy wants this to look like a rival operation, and garrote killings are common enough in Ferretti’s world that no one will bat an eye.

I wash my hands in his kitchen sink, dry them on a towel with little cartoon lemons printed on it, and check my phone.

One new message. Encrypted channel. Not the Primacy’s usual routing.

PRIORITY CONTRACT

Target: ASSET 13 (The VEIL)

Designation: Omega

Payment: $2,000,000

Client: ANONYMOUS

Note: Target is confirmed active tonight. Location enclosed.

Two million dollars for an omega.

The Primacy has never paid me more than a million, and that was for a judge in the Caymans who travelled with a twelve-man security detail and a bulletproof SUV. This omega, whoever she is, is apparently worth twice that.

Either she is exceptionally dangerous, or someone wants her exceptionally dead.

I tap the dossier link. The details are sparse; whoever filed this contract didn’t use Primacy’s standard intake. They routed it through back channels, the kind reserved for council members or someone with council-level access.

But there’s a target profile. And there’s a photo.

She looks pretty and soft. The kind of omega most alphas would look at and feel that primal, idiotic pull to protect or possess.

Asset 13. Female. Omega. Active for six years. Specialty: close-quarters kills targeting alpha abusers. Weapon of choice: bladed. Confirmed kills: twenty-three. Suspected: higher. Affiliation: The VEIL. Operating under rotating aliases.

I lean against Ferretti’s kitchen counter and read the profile again while his body cools on the floor behind me.

Twenty-three confirmed kills in six years. That’s someone with training, discipline, and a handler who knows how to deploy them. The VEIL is careful. They operate in the spaces the Primacy doesn’t bother with; targeting abusers, traffickers, the kind of men the Primacy profits from. Different philosophies. Same skill set.