The assassin studied the contract under the flickering candlelight. The name—there was something about it that gnawed at the back of his memory.
He studied the ink some more, willing for a face to lurch forth, an encounter to tumble from the haze.
Nothing.
It promised a rich purse. Enough to vanish forever, to buy silence for the ghosts of men and women he’d already killed.
“One more job,” he muttered, “then I’m done.”
He stalked the target through the slick and dimly lit alleys, blade ready. But the closer he crept, the more the name grew louder in his mind. When the boy turned and the torchlight caught his face, the assassin froze.
He shared the same eyes as the girl from years ago.
The same defiance he’d abandoned in a tavern bed.
His blade faltered and slipped to his side.
“I knew you’d forget my name,” the boy spat and freed his own dagger, a ghost of a smile lifting his lips into a snarl.
Figures suddenly stepped from the shadows, crossbows cocked, eyes glinting with the smugness of hired men. It was a set-up. The boy had lured him from the lair with a hook coated in gold.
The assassin sighed, his shoulders slackening as if a great burden was about to be lifted from them.
“Why now?” he asked.
“Mother wouldn’t stop talking about you,” the boy countered. “She loved you so much—so much that she bedded any man with a pulse that reminded her of you. Yet one stuck around.”
The assassin’s eyes narrowed.
“I knew his knuckles quite well. Even gave them names,” he scoffed. “My nose was broken twice. I’ve lost all hearing in my left ear and had my manhood stolen from me before I tasted my first pint.” He paused for a heartbeat as the raindrops began to sound more like loose debris striking the cobbles.
The assassin’s stomach twisted and lurched. “I mourn for what you’ve been through, I do. But what has this to do with me?” The assassin flicked between the boy and the glinting crossbows.
“I killed that nasty, twisted soul six months ago, but only after he took Mother. If you had a manly bone in your body, maybe she’d still be alive. Maybe I might have wedded a woman I love instead of hiding in the shadows of taverns. You killed us both when you left.”
The boy lifted his hand. “Goodbye, Father.”
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