Chapter 36 Wesley #2
“Xavier—or X as he preferred to be called—was our criminal element. We weren’t privy to the details, and he never would have told us himself, but after…
” I trail off, my voice breaking. I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
“I hacked the system and found him. He was… a hitman. I believe they must have used him for his contacts.”
All lightheartedness Madison had infused into the room dims suddenly at the mention of hitmen.
I watch as my brilliant mermaid starts piecing it together on her own.
I watch her eyes work back and forth, seeing nothing, and a frown line appear between her brows.
“So… You’re saying you worked on a project that was assembling a database of hitmen and other seasoned criminals, giving them a trusted platform to communicate anonymously, finding dirty money to pay them without being caught, and…
” she swallows, making eye contact at last, “had a way to process huge amounts of data to find exactly who you wanted dead.”
I nod.
“Whoa.” She sits back, shock and horror written in the lines of her face. I nearly wince. I deserve her horror. God knows I’ve spent these last years regretting every moment I spent on that project.
“None of us put it together quite so succinctly, but then again we all believed—apart from Xavier, I suppose—that we were working on a project for the government. We thought we were doing something for the greater good. Derrick used to make jokes about chiseling it on his gravestone because it was sure to be his greatest accomplishment.”
“What happened to him?” Madison asks softly, eyebrows slashed up in the middle in concern. I assume she’s picked up on the use of the past tense.
“I was late to work that day,” I say, rubbing at my bottom lip, locked in a memory I haven’t willingly relived in a long time.
“I remember being so upset that the tube was late, because it was the day we were turning in our projects.
We were going to get lunch to celebrate.
Sushi, because Fiona had never had it before. Odd, the things you remember…
“I was in a hurry, so it didn’t occur to me that the building was oddly quiet. When I got to the second floor… The carpet squished under my foot—that was what alerted me. I thought I’d stepped in spilled water or something but… It was blood.”
“They killed everyone on the project?” she asks.
“They killed everyone,” I correct. “The janitor. The receptionist. The security guards.”
Her lower lip wobbles. “How did you escape?”
“Luck,” I laugh bitterly, hating the word almost as much as I hate the memory. “The janitor had similar tattoos. I think they must have assumed he was me.”
“You must have been so scared,” she whispers.
I nod vaguely, still locked in the awful memory.
“I got out. Changed the coroner’s records, so it appeared I had died with everyone else.
I started digging and found out more about the company that commissioned the project.
I found a few of the stakeholders—asked my questions; had my revenge.
One of the idiots told me the plan—I was too blindsided by rage to even figure it out on my own, then.
He’s the one who connected the dots for me, told me the grand idea of a private hitman for hire platform.
Turned out they’d sold our work to the highest bidder, and neither party wanted any loose ends or witnesses or possibility for replication. ”
“Who was the buyer?” She swallows. “SmarTech?”
I shrug. “I couldn’t get anyone to tell me who the buyer was, so I took on the search myself, primarily on the dark web.
A few years ago I stumbled upon something that felt familiar and I realized I’d found the platform Derrick and Fiona built.
From there, I followed the process for verification, got myself into their list of contacts, and I’ve been working for ‘the General’ ever since, hoping that eventually if I collected enough pieces of the puzzle, I’d learn who he was and I’d know who was responsible for what happened.
” As if on cue, my computer fan powers off due to inactivity, making the silence in the room feel more oppressive.
“And now, after everything we’ve learned since your name came up… it seems as if someone at SmarTech was the buyer, yes. They’re using SmarTech’s database of personal information about their customers to identify targets.”
She digests that. “Mac and Dimitri… are you going to tell them?”
“I planned to. I always planned to tell them. But… after—once we killed the man responsible. I can’t predict how they’ll react. I’d much rather ask forgiveness than permission.”
“You think they’ll abandon you when they find out the truth?”
“No,” I say sadly. “But knowing about this project got everyone who worked on it killed. I couldn’t let that happen here.
Until I was sure, it was safest for everyone if I didn’t say a word—especially because knowing the truth wouldn’t have altered the plan in any way.
It doesn’t make it any more or less dangerous that we’ve all decided to kill the General. ”
She nods, but chews at her bottom lip as if her agreement is begrudging. “Okay, but that’s…” she blows out a long breath. “That’s so crazy.”
I fight the grimace. Her reaction is better than I’d hoped for—she hasn’t looked at me in horror for what I’ve done—but it’s not forgiveness either.
I can hear the gears turning as she works through the information.
“So, you see now. You see why it will be my fault if you’re hurt because of this.
Everything that’s happened… it’s all my fault.
Every death is on my head, even if I didn’t pull the trigger or wield the knife. ”
When her head lifts, her expression is almost haunted. There’s horror—but it’s on my behalf, not directed at me. “Wesley, that’s a lot of guilt you’re holding onto.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” I agree. “But it doesn’t change the fact that it’s my responsibility to right the wrongs that wouldn’t have happened without me. This tool is much too powerful, and it’s gotten into the wrong hands. I have to destroy it.”
She’s silent for what feels like a long time, and when she speaks her voice is almost too low for me to hear. “You guys have taken a lot of really bad people off the streets. I know that saying it could have been worse doesn’t mean much when you’re carrying so much guilt, but it’s true.”
“I know,” I nod. “It’s one of the few comforts I’ve had.”
“Okay.” She stands, approaching me slowly and lifts a hand to reach out for me, but pulls back. That aborted gesture might as well have pulled my heart out with it, but it’s no more than I deserve. “I need to… um… I need some time. I need to think about this.”
“Of course.”
“I won’t say anything to anyone. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
She heads for the door. Hand on the knob, she turns. “Wesley? Thank you for telling me.”
Her tone is too sad for me to take any comfort in the words. I nod, and she nods back, then gently closes the door, leaving me in the office with all my darkest thoughts.
Some Bills headbutts my shin, demanding attention, and I smile down at him. “At least she left me some comfort,” I say, folding over to scratch behind his ears.