The Fugitive

The Promise

This is the sequel to The Hitman. Please read that first.

The average human being walks past a murderer 36 times in their lifetime.

Yet they're still alive.

See, murder is all about circumstance. Anyone, if put in the right situation, would kill.

And then what happens?

We kill those who kill because killing is wrong.

Actually, the biggest murderers of all are often the most beloved. Germans loved Hitler. They thought he was doing the right thing.

One murder makes a villain.

Millions, a hero.

Nick Sievers' POV

I was supposed to be dead.

At least, that's what the doctors told me. All I knew was that I had woken up with a hole in the side of my neck. Formerly white gauze, now stained red, pressed against an injury. What could have caused such a wound?

When my senses finally came to me, I realized it was the tracker. The tracker Brook Aldridge, the fool, had attached to me moments before tossing me into the sweltering desert. The FBI had commanded it to explode as a last resort.

As a way to finally end me.

Yet here I was, alive and sort-of well. Well enough to know I had to get out of here. When the doctors tried to figure out who I was, they would undoubtedly search the Canadian government database for me. Upon no results, they would turn their searches to the United States database because of our proximity to the border. And then, well, let's just say my record isn't squeaky clean. I had to get out of here.

I yanked the IV out of my arm and winced, then flung open the door and ran.

Time Skip

Gun pressed to my chest, I leaned against the door and exhaled.

"I'm going in," I whispered.

No response echoed in my ear, and I sighed. He was gone. It had been six months, eighteen days, and nine hours, but I still figured he was on the other end of the headset.

I kicked in the old door and it collapsed with a bang. I stepped into the warehouse and produced my gun. Let the games begin.

Boxes littered the floor, obstructing my view. But I knew the target was in here somewhere. The trick was finding him.

I fired my gun into the air and heard movement to my left. I turned and crept silently toward the large crate.

I whipped around the corner of the crate and pointed my gun directly at the man cowering behind it. He held his hands up, trembling.

I released the safety, and the man whimpered. "Come on, man. Don't kill me. Surely we can work something-"

"Okay, hold on," I said. I paused and looked upward momentarily. "Nope. Don't care."

A bang echoed through the warehouse as the man slumped over, dead. I watched the blood pool around him for a few seconds before promptly fleeing. I didn't need the police on my back.

Instead of ditching the fake nose, I slipped it into my underwear to save for later use. Most people won't pat you down there. Hopefully, at least.

By the time I reached the nearest city, my feet were killing me. In the United States, I had motorcycles and helicopters at my disposal.

But here in Canada, everything was different. I had fled with no money—only the clothes on my back. And even that orange prison jumpsuit I had ditched. After a couple months, my clientele was growing, but nothing like what it had been. That's right, Nick Sievers was on a budget. And due to recent budget cuts, the light at the end of the tunnel had been turned off. I was stumbling around blindly with no goal in sight.

I walked up the stairs to my small apartment. After unlocking the door, I flicked on the light only to sigh in frustration as the bulb exploded. I shoved past the junk laying around and banged my knee, cursing loudly.

As I collapsed onto the creaky bed in my small apartment, I sighed and stared up at the ceiling. I shook my head and made the same empty promise I had made every night since I came here.

Tomorrow will be different.

Brook Aldridge's POV

I handed Derek his bag and kissed him on the cheek. "Stay safe, okay?"

Derek chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll be fine. I'll only be in Canada for a week to visit family." He ruffled Lila's hair and wrapped an arm around Henley.

I nodded. "I know, but that won't keep me from missing you."

He unlocked the car and I followed him toward it, wrapping my jacket closer around myself. Out of earshot of the girls, I leaned toward him.

"Bring him home," I whispered in his ear.