Remo stood over the lifeless body of the assassin, his mind swirling in disbelief and anger. The faint glow of the moon through the window cast long shadows in the room, deepening the sense of dread that had settled over him. He wiped the blood from his knuckles, the metallic taste of fear still lingering in the back of his throat. This wasn't a random hit. This wasn't a robbery gone wrong. This was a well-orchestrated attack.
Someone close to Abby... someone who knows everything. The assassin's words echoed in his mind like a taunt. He had been set up, and he wasn't sure who to trust anymore.
His hand shook as he reached for his phone, quickly dialing Tony's number. Tony, his right-hand man, was the only person who could help him piece this together. The phone rang twice before Tony's voice cut through the silence.
"Remo, what's going on? It's late," Tony asked, his voice laced with concern.
