Excerpt: Wetworks Anonymous

Wetworks Anonymous

“Bang.”, said the gun.
The man holding it dropped his gaze to it, and as he did, all of the color, energy, and smugness drained slowly from his face and his hand began to shake, fouling his aim. He shifted his eyes back to his assailant as the cold reality of his situation sank into him, ever so slightly preceding the cold steel blade that sank effortlessly into his throat.

The man with the knife levered it out of his victim’s neck, standing well to the side of the corpse to avoid any blood seeking to stray out in his direction.