Chapter The Mother
The Mother
They failed.
Useless men.
She stands in the middle of her Manhattan penthouse, staring at her phone like it personally insulted her.
The city glows outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Traffic lights.
Headlights.
Millions of people living lives that mean nothing to her.
Two men dead.
And the girl still alive.
Unacceptable.
She exhales slowly and pours herself a glass of wine.
Professionals, they said.
Efficient, they promised.
Clearly not.
“So,” she murmurs softly.
“I’ll stop paying amateurs.”
Her manicured finger scrolls through her contact list.
This time she doesn’t call a broker.
She calls someone who answers immediately.
“Yes?” the voice says.
Cold.
Uninterested.
Perfect.
“I have a problem,” she says.
“And I require it removed.”
“Location?”
“Texas.”
A pause.
“Complicated terrain.”
“No.”
She smiles faintly.
“There is a woman,” she continues. “And a baby.”
The man on the other end doesn’t react.
Professionals rarely do.
“Bring me the girl,” she says.
“And the child if there is one.”
Another pause.
“And resistance?”
Her smile widens.
“If they resist,” she says softly, “make it hurt.”