Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

Angela closed her eyes, visualizing the scene.

”What’s my exit strategy?” Angela asked.

”You arrive with Eve,” the voice said. ”You greet her. You chat with her briefly. Then you tell her you have an urgent work call and need to step outside. You leave the studio. You go to the coffee shop on the corner, there’s one three blocks north. You order a coffee. You sit for fifteen minutes. Then you leave Manhattan completely.”

”Where do I go?” Angela asked.

”You have a packet,” the voice said. ”Passport, credit cards, cash, new identity documentation. It’s in a locker at Penn Station. Locker 247. Combination is 14-28-36. You retrieve it after you leave the coffee shop. You take a train, we don’t care where, as long as it’s not to Rome or anywhere associated with Dante. You disappear.”

”How much?” Angela asked.

”One million dollars,” the voice said. ”Transferred to an offshore account in your new name. You’ll have access to it the moment we confirm Eve is dead.”

One million dollars. Enough to disappear completely. Enough to start over. Enough to buy silence, anonymity, a new life built on the foundation of murder.

”And if I refuse?” Angela asked, though she already knew the answer.

”Then we go to plan B,” the voice said coldly. ”Plan B involves Dante Romano understanding that you were a liability who didn’t have the courage to follow through. Plan B involves him dealing with you the way he deals with all liabilities. Plan B is not pleasant, Angela. Plan B ends with you dead in a basement somewhere with no one knowing what happened to you.”

Angela understood the threat perfectly.

”I won’t refuse,” Angela said.

”Good,” the voice said. ”Because Eve dies Monday morning at 6 AM. And you’re going to help make that happen.”

”I understand,” Angela said.

”Good,” the voice said.

Then the line went dead.

Angela sat in her apartment in absolute silence.

The call was over. The order had been given. The operation was now in motion.

She looked around at her apartment, the carefully curated space she’d created to seem like a normal young woman building a life in Manhattan. The books on the shelves. The photographs on the walls. The clothes in the closet. All of it was a lie. All of it was a performance for a role she’d been playing.

But none of it compared to the lie she’d been living for the past two weeks.

She thought about Monday morning. About walking into that yoga studio and greeting Eve like nothing was wrong. About positioning herself to give the operative access to Eve’s water bottle. About watching Eve drink the poisoned water, completely unaware that her friend...the person she trusted, had just signed her death warrant.

Angela understood now why The Covenant had hired her. Not just because she had the skills or the access. But because they understood something fundamental about human nature.

They understood that the cruelest betrayal was the one that came from someone you care about.

They understood that Eve’s death would be worse because it came at Angela’s hands. Because Eve would die confused, wondering how the person she’d trusted most had been working against her all along.

And they understood that Angela would carry that guilt forever. That every dollar of the million they were paying her would be worthless compared to the weight of what she’d done.

Angela stood and walked to her window, looking out at Manhattan.

She pulled out her burner phone and opened a new message thread. She didn’t type anything. She just sat there, staring at the blank screen, understanding that this was her last moment of choice.

She could refuse.

She could reach out to Dimitri right now. She could tell him everything about The Covenant’s plan, the Monday morning yoga studio, the poison in the water bottle, the operative who would pose as a client. She could save Eve’s life.

But doing that meant her own death. Doing that meant Dante would kill her.

So Angela didn’t type anything.

She set down the phone and walked to her bedroom. She opened her closet and pulled out the outfit she’d planned to wear Monday morning, black yoga pants, a white tank top, the kind of thing that would blend perfectly into a yoga studio environment.

She laid the outfit on her bed and stared at it.

Angela lay down on her bed without undressing and stared at the ceiling.

***

Angela woke at 6 AM without an alarm.

Her body had known it was time. Her subconscious had refused to let her sleep past the moment when Eve would normally be preparing for her yoga class.

She got out of bed and went through the motions of her morning routine. Shower. Coffee. Breakfast she couldn’t eat. She checked her phone compulsively, looking for messages from Eve that might indicate a change in plans.

There were none.

Eve was coming to yoga class.

The operative would be there.

The poison would be administered.

And she would be the catalyst that made it all possible.

At 10 AM, Angela’s phone buzzed. A text from Eve.

”See you at yoga tomorrow! I’m so excited to finally get you to come with me. It’s going to be so good for your soul. You need to relax and let yourself breathe. I feel like you’ve been stressed lately. This will help.”

Angela stared at that message for a long time.

”I feel like you’ve been stressed lately.”

Eve had noticed. Even in the middle of everything she was dealing with, Eve had noticed that something was wrong with her. Eve had attributed it to normal stress, to life being hard, to her just needing to take care of herself.

Eve had responded with kindness.

Eve had responded with the kind of love that comes from genuine friendship.

And she was going to repay that love by walking into a yoga studio Monday morning and facilitating Eve’s death.

Angela set down her phone and didn’t respond to the message.

There was nothing to say.

There was only the waiting.

Monday morning was coming.

And Angela was going to be ready.