47. The Hitman. Mason pov

I sat behind the wheel of a sleek black Mercedes, my fingers drumming lightly on the leather steering wheel as I waited. The city lights flickered outside, neon reflections dancing across the windshield. It was past midnight, the streets mostly empty—perfect for a meeting like this.

My hitman was late.

Sebastian's arrival had changed everything. Ophelia had been reduced to a mere whisper, a shadow barely worth remembering. Ava had stepped in, taking control, forcing her way into the narrative like she belonged there. And maybe she did.

Fiona had done an impeccable job slipping into Lila's role. Somehow, she had convinced even Sebastian that she was the real deal. Ophelia's meticulous work had erased any trace of her existence, replacing it with Fiona's carefully crafted identity. It was a flawless deception—at least for now.