"You really want to know?" Phoebe pulled out her laptop and opened it on the small coffee shop table. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, navigating through encrypted networks that most people didn't even know existed.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her work. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the quiet cafe. Other patrons chatted softly around us, completely unaware that they were sitting near someone discussing assassination contracts.
"Here," Phoebe said, turning the laptop screen toward me. "Take a look at this."
The webpage looked like a dark mirror of any professional job board. Clean, organized, and utterly terrifying. At the top of the page was a photograph of me, taken from the security footage of my fight with the Sakura martial artists. Below it, in bold red letters, was a bounty amount that made my eyebrows rise.
"Fifty million dollars," I read aloud. "That's more than some small countries' entire budgets."
