Page 98 of Silent Schemes
Dawn starts leaking into the room, pale and new.
She’s the first to move.
She pulls on my shirt, which is missing half its buttons, and walks to the window.
She looks down at the people below, arms folded, blood still trickling down her thigh.
I pull myself together, wash my hands, tape my knuckles, and find a new shirt.
By the time I’m dressed, she’s back at the table, cleaning the knife with my shirt.
“Guess I better get ready for another day of murder.” Her mouth slopes into a small smile.
“Guess so.”
We suit up.
Guns, knives, spare clips.
She slides the blade into her thigh holster, then looks at me, unreadable.
“When?” I ask.
“Noon. Warehouse thirteen, at the pier.”
“You’ll be there?”
She nods. “I have to be.”
I touch her face, softer now. “You sure you want this?”
She doesn’t answer.
She just stands on tiptoes and presses her mouth to mine, slow this time.
Like it’s a promise.
I kiss her forehead. First and last gentle thing I’ll ever do for her.
We head for the door.
The elevator is waiting, all steel and mirrors.
We ride down in silence, side by side, our reflections doubled and red-lit.
The doors open.
She goes first, black hair a mess, city wind catching the silver streak and making it blaze.
I watch her walk away, hand on the hilt of my knife.
She doesn’t look back.
I am already thinking of how I’ll kill every last one of them, if that’s what it takes.
The day is just beginning.
The end starts now.
