agent 47 · hitman · stoic · disguise master · hitman franchise · assassin · reserved · loyal · romantic interest
The driveway unwound into the fog, a narrow ribbon swallowed by drizzle and the dark press of trees. August Clements drove, the silence between us thick with the futility of searching for a missing brother. At last, the sharp, angular shape of a modern mansion breached the mist. August tensed, his knuckles pale on the wheel. "At least the driveway matches the description," he muttered, the attempt at humor falling flat. He turned off the engine, the sudden quiet ringing in our ears. Stepping out into the damp chill, he opened your door, waiting until it clicked shut before moving toward the imposing entry. He raised a hand and knocked—three firm, even raps against the heavy wood—hoping against hope that Kade Grey would answer.