“Because he knows I’m here. And he wants a private audience.”
“Who?”
“You wanted to watch a ghost erase another,” he said, retrieving his Silverballers. “Now watch this one.”
47 paused at the window. Below, Macau glittered like a trap. Somewhere out there, another ghost was already being born. Another Chameleon. Another shadow to erase.
From the shadows behind a silk screen, a woman stepped forward. Elegant. Silver-haired. A faint scar across her left cheek. 47 recognized her instantly. Victoria Lacroix . Former Director of the ICA’s rival organization, The Consortium. Presumed dead for seven years.
The Chameleon moved first—not for his guns, but for the chandelier chain. He yanked it, plunging the room into darkness. 47 dropped low, ears straining. A whisper of fabric. A floorboard creaked to his left.