The assassin from Phase Two was gone.
Not dead, though she probably wished she was.
She had fled the scene the moment Vincent grinned at her.
Her fellow assassins had watched her run past them at full speed, eyes wide, hands shaking, muttering nonsense about an indestructible man.
"It was poison," she had whispered, half-mad.
"It was definitely poison. I know it was. But he drank all of it and then ASKED FOR MORE!!!"
Her superiors tried to get an explanation.
She just kept repeating: "It shouldn't have been spicy, it shouldn't… it shouldn't…. it shouldn't!!!"
And then she locked herself in her room and refused to come out.
Which meant Phase Two had failed.
Again.
Which meant it was time for Phase Three.
And for sure, this time, it would be flawless.
The assassins had returned to their original plan: dropping something heavy on Darin's head.
It was simple.
It was elegant.
It was gravity.
