The Sniper Behind The Rifle Knew My Breathing Better Than I Did

pretended to mourn with my family while being the architect of its destruction.

There was no choice to make. There never had been.

“When do we start?”

The weeks that followed were a blur of rediscovery. We operated out of a forgotten sub-basement beneath one of Kesler’s legitimate businesses, a place completely off the grid.

It was there I got to know continue reading …