Run. That was Alex's first thought as he stared at the man in front of him. The man he had just killed. The man whose now lifeless eyes still held so much emotion, with such an intensity that only a dead man could muster. Alex clenched his jaw and knelt next to the corpse. He knew that he was wasting time. He knew that right now he should be gone, out of the window and running, losing himself in the bustling streets of London, but he couldn't bring himself to just leave. This was the man who had taken his life from him. The man who had killed Ian, Jack and countless others without even leaving his damned grey chair.

He knew I was coming.

Alex was shaking, both from shock and adrenaline. He hadn't expected his first kill to have gone so…smoothly. With almost no security other than one camera outside his house, Alan Blunt had practically invited Alex in. Blunt had even been facing away from his window which he had left wide open. Granted, it hadn't been an easy climb up to the 5th floor whilst battling against the typical British weather at 8 o'clock at night. Blunt had probably thought that he was safe. That Alex would never be able to scale the apartment block in this weather without someone seeing him and alerting the police. Of course, that would then put Blunt in the perfect position of blackmailing Alex with a prison sentence to go on another mission.

Alex took a shaky breath, then slowly pulled out the knife he had stabbed into the back of Blunt's neck at the base of his skull. He grimaced as a trickle of blood began to ooze from the wound and down the back of the man's neck, soaking into the collar of his crinkled, white shirt.

Alex began to wonder why Blunt hadn't even tried to put up a fight when he had obviously sensed Alex's presence in the room. The slight, sharp inhalation and firmer grasp on his newspaper told Alex that he had been seen by the man, and yet all he had said was, "Welcome back."

The words had caught Alex off guard and he faltered, but after a moment of hesitation replied by sticking the blade into the man's skull. After his failed attempt on Mrs Jones' life, Alex had begun to trust blades more than bullets. They just seemed more reliable.

With a gloved hand Alex closed Blunt's eyes, partly out of respect and partly because it was unnerving to be watched by a corpse. He was just standing up to leave when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

Shit.

Alex sprung away from the body as if he had suddenly been burnt by it and ungracefully ran to the window. He slid the bloodied knife into a strap under his hoodie sleeve then vaulted out of the window, making sure to hold onto the sill. The window had just snapped shut when Alex heard the door of the room creak open. He didn't dare look back into the room but he hung around to listen to what was being said.

"Grandpa, Grandma told me to tell y…Grandpa? Grandpa!"

Alex scrunched his eyes up, trying to block out the child's wailing, but was unable to stop the tears that spilled from his own eyes.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered as he half fell, half climbed down the building.

I'm so sorry.