Chapter 6 - The Eyes of the Father
"Don't do it, son," William’s voice rang out from the darkness of the bathroom, cold and absolute.
The killer froze, the tip of the needle hovering millimeters away from the rubber injection port of the IV line. In a fraction of a second, the man twisted, pulling a compact Glock from beneath his scrubs, swinging it toward the sound of the voice.
Before he could pull the trigger, William stepped into the light, his own weapon aimed directly between the killer's eyes.
"I said, don't do it," William repeated. "Look at me. Look at my face very carefully before you make a choice that leaves your mother without a son."
The killer hesitated, his eyes locked onto William’s. Suddenly, the man’s posture shifted. The professional, cold demeanor of an assassin dissolved into pure shock. He lowered the gun by a fraction of an inch, his eyes widening as he stared at William’s silver hair, his sharp jaw, and the intense, piercing gray eyes that matched his own.
"Colonel Sterling?" the killer whispered, his voice cracking beneath the surgical mask.
William lowered his weapon slightly, his breath catching in his chest. "Leo? Leo Vance?"
The killer pulled off his mask. He was a young man, barely twenty-eight, with a jagged scar running along his jawline—a scar he had received six years ago in a military operation in Kabul when he was a young sergeant serving under William Sterling’s command.
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"They told me... they told me the target was an informant for a cartel, sir," Leo stammered, his face turning pale as he looked from William to Victoria, whose eyes were wide with terror. "The broker... Sloan Carmichael... she told me this woman was trying to destroy an innocent family."
"She’s my daughter, Leo," William said, his voice dropping into a dark, protective register. "And the man who paid you is her husband, who has been poisoning her for three months."
