Rain coated the rooftop in a thin reflective layer, turning the concrete slick beneath Virek Solen's boots. Neon lights stretched across the surface in blurred streaks of red and violet, while the distant hum of the city pressed upward from below.
The man ahead of him moved like someone who didn't understand the situation he was in.
Too fast in the wrong moments. Too slow when it mattered.
He looked back more than forward, as if fear alone could guide him to safety.
It couldn't.
"You're drifting north," Mara Vance said through his earpiece, her voice steady. "That wasn't the route."
Virek adjusted the scope slightly, watching the man stumble against a vent.
"I noticed."
Below, the man slipped, caught himself, and kept moving. The sound carried upward, sharp and uneven.
"Do you want ground units redirected?" Mara asked.
"No."
The man reached the edge of the building and stopped.
For a moment, he looked down.
Then back.
Then down again.
Hesitation settled into him.
That was enough.
"Confirmation?" Virek asked.
A brief pause.
"Confirm."
Virek exhaled and pulled the trigger.
The shot cracked once and disappeared into the noise of the city.
The man dropped out of sight.
Silence followed.
Not heavy.
Just complete.
Virek lowered the rifle and began disassembling it, each movement controlled and efficient. Metal clicked softly as the pieces came apart and disappeared into the case.
"Done."
Mara didn't answer immediately.
He noticed.
"What."
"You've got a directive," she said.
"Send it."
"No."
He paused just long enough to register it.
"Try that again."
"You need to come in."
"I don't do meetings."
"It's not a meeting."
"Then you're wasting my time."
A beat.
"It's a contract."
That made him stop.
Rain tapped lightly against the metal railing beside him.
"I don't sign contracts," he said.
"You don't have a choice this time."
He started moving again.
"Then they're wasting theirs."
"That's what you said before."
"They should've learned."
"They did."
A pause.
"This one's already approved."
Virek stepped onto the street below, the smell of rain and asphalt heavier now.
"That's not how it works."
"It is now."
Silence stretched between them.
"What changed?"
Mara hesitated.
Then—
"She did."
His grip tightened slightly on the case.
"Who."
"Sarai Bennett."
The name meant nothing.
And that was the problem.