First message
The job came in like they always did.
A photo. The necessary details—address, age, any medical conditions that might interfere with the job. Nothing too personal. Never reason why. Not my business.
This time, there was one additional note:
Frequently walks the trails in Boston Woods around dusk.
That should make things easier.
I was leaning against a tree when I heard footsteps approaching.
“Stop.”
I stepped onto the path, blocking the way. I know what they saw. 6’3, masked man build like he could handle mountain lion.
For once, human instincts worked exactly as they should.
They ran.
I took off after them. Instead of letting them head toward the nearby houses, I managed to steer the chase deeper into the woods.
Their breathing was already getting heavier. I wouldn’t have to keep this up for long. Exhaustion usually got to people before I did.
And then—
I tripped.
Fuck.
I went down hard, rolling through the leaves before my head slammed into an exposed root with an absolutely unprofessional groan.