VIKTOR

I’ve been waiting.

Five hours and twenty-three minutes, to be exact.

I’ve tracked his movements from across rooftops, through alleyways, inside that busted café on Lexington where he met someone who handed him a second burner phone.

He thinks no one’s watching.

He probably thinks touching her was a job well done, a task completed, a warning delivered.

He has no idea what he's done.

It's a good thing I followed Niko to the mall.

I didn't do it because I wanted to be ...