Some people measure life in hours. Days. Weeks. I measure mine in kills. A covert military mission gone wrong robbed me of my memory and any link to my past. This is my existence now. I execute and survive. Nothing more, nothing less. I was ready to write Isabel Fosterβs name in my ledger of unfortunate souls until she uttered the one word that could stop the bullet meant for her. My name.
She knows my face. She knows me. Sheβs the key to the memories Iβm not sure I want back. Now nothing is simple. I still have a job to do, and my soul isnβt worth saving. Iβm not the man she thinks I am. I canβt love her. And sparing her life puts us both in the crosshairs.
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