Buyong

Kant was a hitman for hire—a shadow in the night, a death with insomnia, if you will. He had watched the life drain from dozens. Seeing a soul popping out of a dead body was a first.
And it wasn't just any soul—it had to be an irritatingly loud ghost of a spoiled brat Gabriel Everett.

When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost

Kant moved deeper through the hotel basement, keeping his steps light. He followed the faint shuffle of the scarred man's footsteps with laser focus.

Hunter slipped in a few moments after him, holding his tongue despite having a lot to say.

Just as Kant was moving further down the hall, his phone gave a quiet ding. He mentally cursed and slipped behind a corner.

He forgot to silence his phone? A few more petty mistakes like this, and he'd be leaving this place escorted by a grim reaper.

Kant quickly pulled out his phone and silenced it, glancing briefly at the screen. It was a text from Gabriel.

(Hale's back, just so you know. Can you send me your grandma's address?) 6:17 AM

The message made Kant realize he never sent a response to all those messages. It had completely slipped his mind.

The harsh click of a gun being cocked behind him snapped him out of it.

A Score to Settle