I sit in my empty apartment, staring at the divorce papers on the coffee table. The silence feels different now. Final. But instead of grief, I feel something else building inside me. Something cold and calculating.
My phone buzzes. Marcus Vance.
"The assets you requested are ready, sir."
"Good. Meet me at the usual place in twenty minutes."
"Both packages?"
"Both packages."
I end the call and pull on my jacket. Time to settle some debts.
The warehouse district is quiet at this hour. Marcus waits by his black Mercedes, a small briefcase at his feet. He straightens when he sees me approaching.
"Sir." He nods respectfully. "Everything's prepared as you specified."
"Show me."
He opens the briefcase. Inside, nestled in foam padding, is a small vial of clear liquid. No bigger than my thumb.
"Developed in Myanmar for battlefield interrogations," Marcus explains. "Completely undetectable in standard blood work. Effects are permanent and irreversible."
"Sterilization?"
