The Voicemail

POV: VIKTOR.

Striding toward my waiting SUV on the damp New York pavement, my mind’s eye is relentlessly assaulted by the image of Nora from earlier this morning. The lingering adrenaline from the execution we just walked away from mixes dangerously with the sudden flash of her unkempt state. I vividly recall the exact amount of soft cleavage peeking over the cup of her frayed bra. The pale swel