The Hitman's Return

Go from behind to get the main man

The safe house felt smaller tonight.

Samuel sat at the rickety table, the documents from Cross's warehouse spread before him. Shipment logs. Bank accounts. Names. Dates. He'd been staring at them for three hours, cross-referencing them with the list the powerful man had given him.

The connections were there. Threads leading from one name to another, weaving a web that stretched across the entire city.

Leonardo Riggs. Senator Barbara Crane. Judge Harrison Vance. Detective Alan Cross—dead now. Victor Ashford, Christina's father. Margaret Banks, his stepmother.

All of them connected. All of them serving the same master.

Silas Kane.

Samuel leaned back in his chair. His eyes burned. His body ached. He hadn't slept in two days—not since Cross's death. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his daughter's face. That photograph. That gap-toothed smile.

He pulled out the photo again. Studied it in the dim light.

She looked so much like Christina. The same dark hair. The same bright eyes. But there was something else too. Something in the set of her jaw. The way she held herself. A stubbornness that was all his.

I'll find a way to you. One day.

He'd said those words. He meant them. But the road to his daughter was paved with bodies. Every name on the list had to fall first. Every person who'd helped destroy him had to pay.

And then there was Silas Kane. The man behind the curtain. The one who'd orchestrated everything.

Samuel folded the photo and tucked it back into his pocket.

He had work to do.

7 years before the trial ~~

Christina sat on the couch with her feet propped up on a pillow. Her belly was rounder and she glowed with the kind of beauty that made Samuel forget how to breathe.

He walked in from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. Handed one to her.

"Thank you," she said. "You're spoiling me."

"You deserve it."

She smiled. Patting the space beside her. "Sit with me."

Samuel sat. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. The baby moved. He could feel it. That same flutter against his ribs.

"Your father called today," Christina said quietly.

Samuel stiffened. He hadn't spoken to his father in years not since the old man had married Margaret, the gold-digging second wife who'd slowly poisoned him against his son.

"What did he want?"

"He said he's thinking about changing his will. Leaving everything to Margaret and her children. He said you've 'gone down the wrong path.' His words, not mine."

Samuel didn't respond. He'd heard those words before. His father had always been weak. Easily manipulated. Margaret had seen that weakness and exploited it.

"I don't care about the money," Samuel said. "I care about him. He's my father. He used to believe in me."

"He still does. Deep down. Margaret just has his ear right now."

Samuel sighed. "I tried to warn him. Told her what she really was. He wouldn't listen."

Christina turned in his arms. Looked up at him. Her eyes were soft, full of compassion.

"Some people can't see the truth until it's too late. But you've done everything you could. That's what matters."

Samuel kissed her forehead. "What did I do to deserve you?"

She smiled. "You were in the right place at the right time. And you made me laugh."

"I still make you laugh."

"Sometimes." She poked his chest. "When you're not being dramatic."

He laughed. A real laugh. The kind that came from somewhere deep. The kind that made the world feel okay again.

"I love you," he said.

"I know."

"And the baby. I love them too."

Christina took his hand and placed it on her belly. The baby kicked—a solid, insistent thump against his palm.

"She's saying hello," Christina said.

"You still keep saying 'she.'"

"I have a feeling. Mother's intuition."

Samuel smiled. "A daughter. I can do that."

"You'll be a great father, Samuel. The best."

He believed her.

~Present day~

The memory faded. Samuel blinked. The safe house came back into focus. He looked at the papers on the table. The names. The connections.

His father had died while Samuel was in prison. A heart attack. Margaret had inherited everything—the business, the house, the money. She'd cut Samuel out of the will completely, claiming he was "unworthy" of the family name.

And Christina? She'd divorced him. Moved on. Married a rich investor and raised their daughter in a house with a white picket fence.

She'd chosen comfort over loyalty. Safety over love. Samuel couldn't blame her. But he couldn't forgive her either.

He stood up. Paced the small room.

The list was still on the table. Leonardo Riggs. Senator Barbara Crane. Judge Harrison Vance. Victor Ashford. Margaret Banks. And now Silas Kane, the man pulling all the strings.

So many names. So many bodies to bury.

But first, he needed more information. He needed to understand Kane's operation. Find the weak points. Exploit them.

He reached for his phone. A burner Vale had given him. Dialed the number.

Vale answered on the second ring. "Banks."

"I need everything you have on Silas Kane. His operation. His contacts. His weak spots."

A pause. "That's not going to be easy. Kane is a ghost. No digital footprint. No known associates. He works through proxies."

"Then give me the proxies. Start with Leo. He's the closest connection I have."

Vale was silent for a moment. "Leonardo Riggs is a dangerous man. He's been a captain for six years. Has his own network. His own protection."

"None of that matters. I'm not going to kill him—not yet. I'm going to use him. Follow him. See where he leads."

"He'll catch you."

"No. He won't."

Another pause. Samuel could almost hear Vale weighing the options.

"I'll send you Leo's schedule. His routines. The places he goes. But if this goes wrong, I don't know you. I never met you."

"Agreed."

The line went dead.

Samuel sat back down. Stared at the wall.

He thought about his daughter. Her smile. The way she'd looked in that photograph.

Soon. Soon he'd be free. Soon he'd find her.

But first, he had to destroy everyone who'd taken her from him.