In the shadows of a hotel room, a lone figure stood motionless in the center. The dim light traced over the rough edges of his unshaven beard and his tired gaze was partially hidden under the brim of a bucket hat.
In his hand, he held a gun attached to a suppressor; without it, the situation would have had a different outcome. Because the Havern Hotel was a popular hospitality establishment, second only to the Sardes Hotel, naturally, the place had to be crowded with people.
—A loud noise would have attracted unnecessary attention.
Fortunately, the assassination went on without a hitch. Beneath his feet and drowning in a pool of blood was the lifeless body of his recent target.
A once high-profile informant turned traitor to his syndicate. That was all he led by. He didn't ask questions, and it wasn't his business. He only needed a name, face, and the occupation of his targets to get the job done.
