**Anonymous POV** My anger was a raging inferno, a firestorm of frustration that refused to be contained. How the hell was she still alive? I could only stare in disbelief, and the intensity of my fury fueled each thought. Once again, she had eluded me, slipping through my fingers when she should have been a mere memory. “Tell me how the hell she’s still alive?” I demanded, my voice laced with venom as I turned my glare towards Ben. “I swear I almost had her this time! I was right there, just a heartbeat away from putting an end to it,” he muttered, dragging the words from his throat like a confession. “But then that damned bodyguard showed up and ruined everything.” Did he truly believe I wouldn’t discern the truth from his pitiful excuses? This was the third time I was left empty-handed, nothing but empty promises hanging between us. The bitterness of failure gnawed at my insides. The only flicker of consolation arising from this disaster was that I hadn’t paid him yet. If I had, it would have been a monumental mistake, a blunder that I would never forgive. He stood to reap half a million dollars once he finished the job. That should have been enough incentive, but it seemed he needed a more potent motivator. I downed a gulp of whisky, the burn matching the fury simmering in my chest. “Really? So almost killing her is the reason you’re sporting those cuts?” I clapped my hands in frustration, every second spent in this conversation amplifying my rage. “I promise, next time will be different. She won’t slip through my fingers again,” he declared, his eyes focused on the floor in a contrived display of humility. “She’s escaped you three times!” I roared, the words echoing against the walls, an anguished growl that threatened to consume him. Silence hung thick in the air, Ben staring at the ground as if he was trying to unearth something there. The pathetic figure before me had set me back significantly. Months of planning, and yet here we were, Ava alive and defiant. I had put my trust in him, convinced he could pull this off. The whispers of his prowess had assured me time and again that he would deliver. But promises were all I had received—empty, hollow, and now, daylight was slipping through my fingers. “Explain this to me, how could you possibly fail to kill one woman?” I thundered, incredulity punctuating my words. “How does one woman evade death thrice? Is she imbued with some kind of luck?” Her uncanny ability to slip through death’s grasp was both an annoyance and a baffling mystery. The fates had conspired on her behalf—while I had never known defeat, Ava’s resilience was a challenge that confounded me. “I don’t fucking know!” he snapped, the tension rippling through his body. “Killing someone has never been this hard. It usually happens on the first try!” With agitation sparking in my veins, I began to pace. This was supposed to be a simple task—she was standing between me and everything I desired. The moment I decided that she needed to be removed from the equation, I devised a plan that had promised a clean execution. Initially, I aimed for an accident; the last thing I wanted was the authorities on my back after orchestrating such a meticulous strategy. The Reapers’ Angels might have offered a perfect cover, but they had uncovered my charade—now the Reapers realized they weren’t involved at all. Before long, both Ben and I would be hunted down, and I would not let this slip from my grasp. “Fuck!” I bellowed, my frustration manifesting as I threw my glass against the wall, the sound of shattering glass punctuating my despair. Time was a luxury I no longer possessed. I should have been reveling in my success, savoring my achievements, but instead, I was a universe away from victory, trapped in a cycle of failure. “Just give me one last chance,” he whined, his desperation palpable. I let out a bitter laugh, “So you can fail again? I don’t think so, Ben.” What was it about Ava that made death shy away from claiming her? I didn’t subscribe to superstitions or divine interventions, yet one couldn’t help but wonder if some providence was shielding her. She was undeniably the luckiest woman I had ever encountered, and that luck was infuriating. “I’d like to see you do better,” Ben scoffed, pushing my patience to its brink. His mockery was the final straw. I seized anything within reach and hurled it in his direction. The whiskey bottle struck him squarely in the face, eliciting a gratifying trickle of blood. “Care to repeat yourself?” I asked, my tone low and dangerous. He clamped his mouth shut, anger radiating from him in waves, shaking his head defiantly. At least I could appreciate his newfound silence. “There has to be a way to do this quickly. I have wasted far too much time already,” I mumbled to myself, weighing the options spinning in my mind. If I didn’t need her dead to execute my plans, I wouldn’t have expended any energy on the troublesome Ava. But as my thoughts spiraled, I recognized that each failed attempt mixed with her uncanny luck was threading a noose around my ambitions. I had worked too hard to allow anything to unravel now. “Listen, she has made it clear that she isn’t an easy target. Combined with the cops on her tail and the protection offered by her billionaire husband, this is becoming exponentially complicated,” Ben said, as if stating the obvious somehow endeared him to me. The mere mention of Rowan tightened my fists in frustration. I had already been aware of these complications; his remarks did nothing to bolster my mood or my resolve. Ben seemed to relish his role as the ever-so-helpful sidekick, but his words were an irritation rather than assistance. I sank into a chair, my mind racing. I needed a different angle—a fresh start to eradicate Ava once and for all. The previous plan was obsolete, a relic of failures past, replaced with something more audacious, something irrevocable. If she had to be taken down along with others in the process, so be it. If a building had to crumble with her trapped inside, I would ensure that it would happen. The delicate tendrils of satisfaction curled in my chest as I began to plot my ruthless strategy. “You’re smiling—have you hatched a plan?” Ben asked, peering at me with an eagerness that irritated me. His blood was now a potential DNA match—a detail I needed to manage before anyone connected the dots. I had no room for errors; this reality was one that I couldn’t afford. “As a matter of fact, yes,” I smirked, rising from my seat, my resolve solidified. Ben mirrored my smirk, a glint of satisfaction illuminating his features. This time around, there would be no failure. Ava would die—even if I had to do it myself.