And for the first time, Lena wasn’t sure she wanted to fight it.
She took the stairs instead of the elevator, counting steps to quiet her mind. By floor twelve, her hands were trembling. Not from fear—from the absence of it. For the first time, she imagined Voss not as a silhouette on a dossier but as a person. A man who might have a daughter. Who might cry. The Killing Antidote
Her handler, August, had warned her. “You won’t just lose the skill, Lena. You’ll lose the taste for it. And without that taste, you’ll remember every single face.” And for the first time, Lena wasn’t sure