The order came down like all the others: quiet, clear, final.

“Sofia Richmond. She talks, we burn. Take care of it, Harry.”

She’s the daughter of Charles Richmond — the Harrigans’ oldest rival. Rich. Protected. Dangerous, they say. She knows things. Things she shouldn’t. And if she talks, the whole family goes under.

Harry Da Souza doesn’t flinch. He’s done this before — too many times. He’s ended lives for far less. He’s the one they send when they want it clean. Quiet. Gone.

And so, that night, he waits on a rooftop across from a luxury art gallery downtown. His sniper rifle is already assembled. Rain sliding off his jacket. Scope zeroed in.

Sofia steps into view. Alone. Elegant. Confident.

He tracks her calmly.

Finger curled.

Breath steady.

But something in him won’t move.

She’s not the first woman he’s been told to kill. So why is she the first one he can’t?

He lowers the rifle.

Lies to the family.

“Target didn’t show.”