But I can’t stop. I can’t stop for a single second. Because if I do, I’ll think about her. I’ll hear her sobs as I walked out of that hospital room. I’ll start making excuses again.
“Please, sir,” the man whimpers. He’s on his knees, his hands held together in a wordless prayer. “Please don’t kill me. I’m innocent.”
“Of… of working with Petyr Ivanov.”
I snap my fingers. “Ah, there. You see? I never mentioned Petyr Ivanov. You did.”
His lip trembles when he realizes his mistake. I don’t want to hear him beg a third time. It’s too pathetic.
So before he can utter another whimper, I shoot him between the eyes. He goes down like the useless sack of bones he is. Or, was, rather.
Konstantin shakes his head in disgust. “Jesus. He was a—a nobody, man. An underling. A minor player. We don’t b
