What Mercy Costs

The place Aleksander Volkov chose was deliberate.

A financial district rooftop in Zurich—glass, steel, and height. No shadows to hide in. No crowds to disappear into. Only the illusion of civility, where bloodshed felt inappropriate and therefore more shocking.

Vera arrived first.

She wore a tailored black coat, hair pulled back, face bare of makeup or softness. There were no guards in sight, but she knew they were there—on neighboring buildings, inside unmarked ...