Page 40 of Fate Awakened

“That’s it? Just a few identity modifications? Millions of people could take care of that. Why come to me?” I ask, both genuinely curious and trying to get whatever information I can to satisfy this meeting for Cain.

“Well, Mr. Anderson, I believe you have a more unique skill set than most. This would simply be a great start to our ongoing business relationship. Having allies across the globe is something I think we all need.”

“And if I say no to your offer?” I ask, knowing he would never let me leave here alive if he didn't think I was going to work with him. He smiles, leaning his muscled frame forward.

“Asking was merely a courtesy. I’d prefer a healthy working relationship where I pay you handsomely, but you see, I know quite a lot about you, Mr. Anderson, including where your family resides. Your mother, Alison, is it? She’s an exceptional gardener. I imagine she doesn’t know about any of your extracurricular activities. It would be a shame for her to have to take responsibility for your insolence.”

My jaw sets despite walking into that threat head-on. I knew he had my home address, so it isn’t a leap to think he tracked that to who owned the place.

Fucking perfect. One group has me by the balls because of Elle and the other because of my mother.

“I’m not sure threatening and blackmailing people into doing your work for you is the best way to, what did you say, make allies around the globe. But I understand the threat all the same. You may have the ability to hold those I love over my head in an effort for me to work for you, but I refuse to walk into a blank slate open contract with you. I have limits that I will not cross for you or anyone else, so I want there to be some very firm lines here,” I say making this shit up as I go because, honestly, I’m not sure there’s much I won't do to protect my family.

“I’m listening. State your terms,” he says, leaning back and finishing his drink. His casual posture sets me on edge as I devise some hard-line non-negotiables.

“None of the work I complete for you will be facilitating others to rape, murder, or kidnap women or children. I refuse to create any technology that aids in killing people at any scale. I’ll give you my services for one year. After which I’m out. Completely out with no strings attached. No one I love will be harmed by ANYONE in your organization, or our contract is void. Do you agree to these terms?” I finish, breathing a little heavier now that I’ve sped through my demands.

“Mr. Anderson, you have yourself a deal. Though I will add the caveat that if you want to continue working with us, I’d happily discuss an extension.” He reaches across the table, extending his palm. I mirror the movement and grab his hand in a firm shake.

Out of the pot and into the fire.

He waves his hand again, and this time the man comes back holding a legal-sized manilla envelope which he slides in front of me.

“This is your first assignment. We have two individuals who need to be completely erased. The details are inside. Every photo, every video, every record of them ever existing down to their yearbook information needs to be gone. Additionally, there’s a second assignment that’s recently been added as well. It’s evolving, but I’ll get the details once I know more. For now, I need a new identity for the woman.” He sees my hesitation before adding, “something about getting away from a bad relationship. And as for the man, he was the bad relationship. I need everything you can dig up on him.” I nod, not opening the envelope.

“Timeframe?” I ask to get an idea of how soon he needs this.

“Forty-eight hours. Less if possible,” he responds.

“I have work for the next two days. It’ll have to wait until after that,” I come back, starting to slide out of the booth.

“Then quit. I now own your time for the next year. I think you’ll find your new salary more than sufficient. Your first check is in there. Consider it a signing bonus. Forty-eight hours. That's it.” I nod, wondering if I can take a leave of absence for the next few weeks while remembering the promotion waiting for me there.

Standing, I start to head toward the exit. Before I take a step, his voice reaches my ears.

“Oh, and Mr. Anderson, I look forward to working with you,se fallisci ti ammazzo,” he finishes using what I assume is Italian, and while I have no idea what he said, the threat filters through his tone.

Fuck up, and I’m a deadman.

The trip back to the elevator feels much farther than the first time. My palms are sweating, but my grip on the envelope is firm. I stand silently in the elevator for the entirety of its descent, mainly because three other people are inside with me this time. I don’t want to look crazy talking to myself by trying to reach out to Cain to see if they got what they needed.

Desperately I hope they did so I can start working on my plan B. Get my parents' new identities and move them the hell out of town. Get Elle back and force her to move away as soon as possible. I must scatter everyone I care about as far away from me as possible before making myself disappear.

When the elevator doors open on the casino floor, I exit, heading back to the elevator for the parking garage. My eyes scan the room, noting the lack of patrons and causing me to pull out my phone to turn it back on and check the time—12:27 am. I hadn’t even been up there for half an hour.

The two men who followed me onto the elevator walk casually behind me. I may not have distinguished them from any other tourist dressed for a night on the town, but as everyone from Marlo’s crew I met appears to be wearing suits and looking Italian, these two fell right into that crowd.

Why would he have me followed?

I pull my phone up to my ear to fake a conversation, hoping Cain will realize I’m talking to him and respond in my ear. That is, if he’s back to watching and listening at all.

“Hey Mila, I just finished work and was wondering if I could come over? I’d invite you over, but I have two roommates to deal with.” I say, hoping the code works for him. I wait silently for a second, which feels so much longer, before I’m startled by the female voice that answers.

“Hey, yeah, having roommates really sucks sometimes. You can’t try to kick them out tonight?”

“Not likely, but I may be able to sneak away. Tell me where I can meet you,” I state, fully aware I have no idea who I’m talking to, as I approach the parking lot elevator. The two guys hang back, not coming up to me.

“How about our usual hang-out spot? How long will it take you to get there?” she asks, playing into the conversation perfectly as the doors open, and I step inside, trying to hit the button for them to close immediately.

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