Victor’s pov
I stood at the window, watching the city lights blink like stars below me. Thirty stories up, the world looked small. Peaceful, even. What a joke.
My reflection stared back at me—a dead man walking. For three weeks, Victor Winters had been a ghost, and ghosts have certain advantages. No one looks for you. No one expects you.
I adjusted the scrambler device on the hotel desk, a small black box that cost more than most cars. Worth every penny if it kept me alive another day.
"Planning to disappear again?"
I didn't turn when the door opened. Diane Kelly's perfume gave her away—something expensive and cold, like the woman herself. The Commission's handler didn't believe in knocking.
"If I was disappearing," I said, "you'd be the last to know."
She moved into the room, blo
