The Break

Maya arrived twenty minutes later. She was smiling, shaking rain from her umbrella.

"It is pouring out there! I hope you got the spicy fries, I'm starving—"

She stopped.

Ren was standing by the window, his back to her. The takeout bag was on the floor, spilled.

"Ren?" Maya’s voice dropped. "What happened?"

Ren turned around. He had put the mask back on. The face he wore before he met her—cold, dead, indifferent.

"You need to leave," Ren said.

Maya blinked. "What? Why?"

"I'm done," Ren said. "With this. With you."

Maya laughed nervously. "Ren, stop. You're scaring me. Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened," Ren stepped toward her. He needed to make her hate him. He needed her far away from him when midnight struck. "I'm just bored, Maya. This..." He gestured between them. "It was amusing for a while. Playing normal. But it's exhausting pretending to care about your little high school life."

Maya recoiled as if he had slapped her. "You don't mean that. You're lying."

"Am I?" Ren looked at her with dead eyes. "You asked who I was. I'm a killer, Maya. I hurt people. And you... you're just a distraction. A cover story. And now the cover is blown."

"No," Maya stepped forward, tears welling in her eyes. "I know you. I know the boy who holds my hand. I know the boy who was afraid to touch me because he didn't want to hurt me."

"That boy doesn't exist," Ren snapped. He grabbed her arm—hard, just like he had grabbed the thug in the alley. He shoved her toward the door. "Get out. I have work to do."

Maya stumbled into the hallway. She looked at him, her face crumbling. The betrayal in her eyes cut Ren deeper than any knife Vance could have wielded.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"Good," Ren said. "Keep hating me. It’s safer."

He slammed the door in her face. He locked it.

He listened to her footsteps running down the stairs. He listened to her car start and drive away.

Only then did Ren slide down the door to the floor. He buried his face in his hands and let out a single, ragged sob.

Then, he stood up.

He went to the loose floorboard under his bed. He pulled out the black case he had sworn never to open again.

He took out the Glock 19. The suppressor. The tactical knife.

He checked the mag.

He wasn't going to the Cannery to work for Vance. He was going to the Cannery to end Vance. It was a suicide mission. There were twelve men in that cell, plus Vance’s team. Ren wouldn't survive.

But if he took Vance with him, the contract on Maya would die.

"One last time," Ren whispered to the empty room.

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