BREAK THE HANDLER

Blood Price

Dante sat alone in the dark motel room, staring at the drive in his hand.

Sasha's information. The locations of the remaining eight names. The people who had orchestrated his parents' murder. The people who had destroyed his life.

He plugged the drive into his laptop. The files opened. Names. Photographs. Addresses. Security protocols.

The first name was General Morrison's deputy. A man named Colonel Vance. He was hiding in a safehouse on the outskirts of the city. Heavily guarded.

Dante memorized the details. Then he closed the laptop.

Naomi was still in the next room. He could hear her crying. Soft. Muffled. She thought he couldn't hear her.

He wanted to go to her. Wanted to hold her. Wanted to tell her everything would be okay.

But it wouldn't be. Nothing would ever be okay again.

He checked his weapons. Loaded his magazines. Strapped a knife to his ankle.

Then he walked out of the motel and drove to Vance's location.

---

The safehouse was a converted farmhouse on the outskirts of the city. Surrounded by fields. One road in and out.

Dante parked a mile away and approached on foot. The night was dark. The stars were dim.

He moved through the fields, low and fast. The house was ahead. Lights in the windows. Guards on the perimeter.

He counted four. Two at the front. Two at the back. He'd need to take them out silently.

He moved to the back of the house. Found a position behind a shed. Waited.

The guard passed. Dante was on him in a second. One hand over the mouth. One knife across the throat.

The body dropped. Dante dragged it into the shadows.

He moved to the front. The second guard was already dead. Someone had beaten him to it.

Dante's blood went cold. He raised his weapon. Moved toward the house.

The door was open. He slipped inside.

The interior was chaos. Bodies everywhere. Vance was dead in the corner, his throat cut.

And in the center of the room, Sasha stood with a bloody knife.

"Cross. I was wondering when you'd get here."

Dante raised his weapon. "You killed him."

"I saved you the trouble." She smiled. "I've been tracking the remaining targets for months. I knew you'd come for them. So I decided to help."

"You're helping me?"

"I'm helping myself. The network is reorganizing. These people were obstacles. They needed to be eliminated."

Dante's jaw tightened. "You're cleaning house."

"Exactly. I'm taking control. And I'm eliminating everyone who might stand in my way." She stepped closer. "You and I aren't so different, Cross. We both do what needs to be done."

"We're nothing alike."

"Really? You're standing in a room full of bodies. You just killed two men. And you're about to kill more." She tilted her head. "That sounds exactly like me."

Dante's finger tightened on the trigger. "I'm nothing like you."

"Maybe. But you're still going to need me. There are six targets left. Six people who know the truth. Six people who can destroy you." She pulled out a list. "I have their locations. Their security. Their weaknesses."

Dante stared at the list. His heart pounded.

He could kill her. End it. Take the list and finish the job.

But she was right. He needed her.

"What's your price?" he asked.

Sasha smiled. "Your loyalty. For one week. You help me take control of the network. You eliminate the remaining targets. And then you walk away."

"You want me to be your weapon."

"I want you to be my partner. We're the same, Cross. We've both been used. Betrayed. Destroyed." She stepped closer. "But together, we can build something new. Something better."

Dante shook his head. "I don't want to build anything. I want to destroy everything."

"Then we destroy it. Together."

Dante hesitated. Then he lowered his weapon.

"One week," he said. "Then I'm done."

Sasha smiled. "Agreed."

---

They drove through the night, hitting target after target. A safehouse on the north side. A penthouse in the city. A bunker in the mountains.

Each kill was precise. Brutal. Efficient.

Dante felt nothing. The rage was gone. The grief was gone. There was only the mission.

By dawn, they had eliminated five of the remaining six targets.

One left. The final name.

The man who had given the order. The man who had authorized the operation that killed Dante's parents.

The man who had destroyed everything he loved.

Dante stared at the file. The name was familiar. A man named General Marcus Webb.

The same last name. The same cold eyes.

His old handler. His mentor. The man who had trained him.

But Webb was dead. Dante had killed him weeks ago.

Unless...

He looked at Sasha. "This is Webb. My handler. He's dead."

"Webb's father," Sasha said. "General Marcus Webb. The man who started it all."

Dante's blood went cold. "Webb had a father?"

"Had. He's still alive. Hiding in a compound in the mountains. He's been pulling strings for years. Protecting his son. Shielding the network."

Dante's jaw tightened. "Where is he?"

Sasha pulled out a map. Pointed to a location. "Here. A private estate. Heavily guarded. But I know a way in."

Dante studied the map. The compound was remote. Surrounded by forest. One road in and out.

"How many guards?"

"At least twenty. Maybe more. He's been preparing for a siege."

Dante nodded. "Then we need a plan."

Sasha smiled. "I have one."

---

They approached the compound at dusk. The sun was setting behind the mountains. Long shadows stretched across the forest.

Sasha led the way, navigating the terrain with ease. She knew every path, every blind spot, every hidden entrance.

They reached the fence. Sasha cut a hole in the wire.

"Follow me," she said.

They moved through the forest. The compound appeared ahead. A large estate surrounded by walls. Guard towers. Security cameras.

Dante counted the guards. Twelve visible. More inside.

Sasha pointed to a side entrance. "That's our way in. Through the servants' quarters."

Dante nodded. They moved fast.

They reached the building. Slipped through a door. The interior was dark. Silent.

They moved through the corridors. One guard passed. Dante took him down silently.

They reached the main hall. A large room with a fireplace. A man sat in a chair, reading a book.

General Marcus Webb. Older than his son. But the same cold eyes.

He looked up as they entered. "Cross. I was wondering when you'd come."

Dante raised his weapon. "You killed my parents."

"I gave the order." The general closed his book. "Your father was a threat. Your mother was a liability. They needed to be eliminated."

"Why?"

"Because they knew too much. Because they were going to expose the network. Because they were going to destroy everything I built." His voice was calm. "I had no choice."

"You had a choice. You chose to kill them."

"I chose to protect my family. My empire. My legacy." The general stood. "You were collateral damage. A necessary sacrifice."

Dante's hand shook. "I was a child."

"You were a tool. And you became a very effective one." The general smiled. "You eliminated everyone I needed eliminated. You protected the network. You did exactly what I wanted."

Dante's finger tightened on the trigger. "I'm going to kill you."

"Then do it." The general spread his arms. "I'm an old man. I've lived my life. I've built my empire. But you'll never be free, Cross. You'll always be the weapon. The monster. The killer."

Dante's finger moved to the trigger.

Sasha's hand grabbed his arm. "Wait. He's trying to provoke you. He wants you to lose control."

Dante stared at the general. The man who had destroyed his life. The man who had taken everything from him.

"I don't care," he said. "He's going to die."

Sasha released his arm. "Then make it quick."

Dante raised his weapon. Fired.

The general dropped. Blood spread across his chest.

Dante lowered the weapon. His breathing was heavy.

Sasha knelt beside the body. "It's over. The network is gone. The targets are dead. You're free."

Dante shook his head. "I'll never be free."

He turned and walked out of the room.

---

Outside, the night was cold. The stars were bright.

Dante stood in the forest, staring at the sky.

The rage was gone. The grief was gone. There was only emptiness.

His phone buzzed. A message from Naomi.

"Where are you? I've been worried."

Dante typed a reply. "It's over. The network is gone. The targets are dead."

A pause. Then: "What about you?"

"I'm still here."

"Then come home. Please."

Dante stared at the message. Home. He didn't know what that meant anymore.

But he wanted to find out.

He started walking.

If you could end the hatred that's consumed you, would you, even if it meant losing the person you've become?