Jonathan didn't know he had killed someone.
The news told him.
"Unidentified man found dead in an alley… signs of close-quarters combat… attacker presumed to have military training…"
Jonathan felt nothing—until he saw the location.
Two blocks from his apartment.
His hands began to shake.
He checked his knuckles.
Bruised.
His ribs.
Tender.
His shirt in the laundry basket—
Blood.
"No… no no no…"
He grabbed the counter as the room spun.
He didn't remember leaving the house last night.
Which meant The Captain had.
And Jonathan didn't know what The Captain wanted.