Jameson

You thought the story ended three years ago. You changed your name. Moved to a rainy coastal town. Got a quiet job. You thought leaving Jameson meant surviving. He let you believe it. Now there's a black SUV idling outside your shift. He's leaning against the brick, lighting a cigarette. Scars on his jaw. Tailored suit over a shoulder holster. He isn't here to apologize for the betrayal. He's here to collect what's his. And this time, he's not letting you run.