Page 75 of Ruthless

"We only die if we go in unprepared," I countered, shoving down the impulse. "Lo, how many ferrymen would actually violate the cemetery taboo?"

Lo tapped his fingers against his thigh. "Not many. The ones with principles won't touch it. The ones who enjoy the respect of their peers won't risk it. That leaves the desperate, the soulless, and the ones too new to know better."

"Exactly," I said. "Prometheus will have a harder time recruiting quality talent for this. He'll have the true believers and the amateurs, which gives us an edge."

"An edge against how many?" Vincent asked.

"Maybe a dozen? Quality over quantity in our business." Lo's expression suddenly turned serious. "There's something else you should know. Something I confirmed this morning."

I tensed. Lo's serious face was always bad news. "What?"

"Prometheus will be there personally."

The air left my lungs in a rush. "You're sure?"

"My source is reliable." Lo's eyes darted to Vincent, then back to me. "Prometheus is overseeing security himself."

"Well, fuck me sideways with a chainsaw," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. "That's either the best news or the worst news possible."

"Why would he risk exposure like that?" Vincent asked, clearly grasping the significance.

"Because this isn't just about eliminating a target anymore," I said slowly. "It's personal now. I embarrassed him. Defied him. Killed his right hand."

"And took his favorite toy," Lo added. "Don't forget that part."

"How could I?" I replied darkly. "He literally made me. Rebuilt me from the ground up like a particularly murderous IKEA project, except with more blood and fewer Allen wrenches."

The implications settled in my stomach, heavy and cold. Prometheus, in person. The man who'd created me, groomed me, molded me into his perfect weapon, would be within striking distance tomorrow.

"There's more," Lo continued, voice dropping lower. "Frankie's missing."

My head snapped up. "What do you mean, missing?"

"Gone. Vanished. No one's seen him since your meeting at Avgospito."

Cold dread washed through me. Frankie had been my handler for a decade. He'd covered for me, warned me, tried to protect me in his own way. Now he was missing—likely dead—because he'd helped me.

"Another body to add to Prometheus's tab," I said, voice hard.

Lo reached into one of his bags and pulled out a small wooden box. "These are from Jasper," he said, opening the lid to reveal three small, circular devices with adhesive backing. "Trackers. If we can get one on Prometheus or his vehicle at the funeral, we can end this."

I lifted one of the trackers, rolling it between my fingers. It was smaller than a dime, sleek matte black with a nearly invisible seam. Military grade, not commercial. "These are untraceable?"

"Completely. Operating on a frequency only Jasper can monitor," Lo confirmed. "If we can plant one on Prometheus, we'll know his movements, his vulnerabilities..."

"We can take the fight to him," I finished, something like hope stirring for the first time.

Vincent moved closer, examining the trackers. "So this is the real mission tomorrow? Not just attending the funeral, but planting these?"

"If we get the chance," I said. "Getting close enough to Prometheus without being spotted is the challenge."

"We'll figure it out," Lo said confidently. "Maybe I'll create a diversion. Flash a little skin, start a fire, the usual."

I tucked the trackers into my pocket. "We'll need to be prepared for anything tomorrow."

"Which brings me to the next item on our agenda," Lo announced, pulling a sleek black case from one of his shopping bags. He placed it on the table and flipped it open, revealing a collection of handguns nestled in foam.

"Have you taught him how to shoot yet?" Lo asked, nodding toward Vincent. "Pretty eyes and a great ass won't stop bullets."

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