Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Silence stretched between the five of them and whatever men still watched from the van.
Gage’s mind spun. He thought of the facility. The needles. The screaming. The pain.
He thought of Scar in danger, of his parents who were just a few miles away, of a life on the run, before he released a long, resigned sigh.
“If you say I’m in control,” he said slowly, “and it’s my choice…then I’ll come.”
Roz stiffened and gripped his arm tighter.
“But only if Roz comes with me,” he added. “He’s the only one I trust. No Roz, no deal.”
“Done,” she said without hesitation. “Whatever you wish.”
Roz let out a strangled sound. “Are you fuckin’ serious?”
“I look forward to meeting both of you,” Jo continued. “I swear on my Order of Aga Khan. I am bound by honor. No harm will come to either of you under my command.”
The line clicked and went dead.
For a second, nobody moved.
Roz closed his arms tight around his waist. Gage folded into him without thinking, forehead hitting Roz’s collarbone.
“You okay?” Roz asked into his hair.
“No,” he said honestly. “But I think you know we can’t live as some kind of outlaws in the Midwest. Eventually, we’ll get caught, and it’ll kill me if you go to prison because I made the wrong decision.”
There was a hydraulic whine as the van door slid open.
“Get in,” said the one who’d had him in the chokehold. “We have a bird waiting.”
They have their own aircraft. Of course they do.
Gage heard a hand lift, cloth whispering to his right. He reached out and caught the wrist before it could touch his arm.
“Don’t,” he said sharply.
“I got him.” Roz bit out. “Keep your hands to yourself, GI Joe.”
A low chuckle sounded from behind him, belonging to the second man with the deeper voice.
Gage clutched Roz’s elbow and let his best friend guide him toward the van.
Black Ravens
Meridian
Their driver rolled to a silent stop at the edge of the quiet Palos Hills subdivision. A place where the residents would never imagine assassins in tailored suits would visit.
Meridian’s eyes were locked on the glowing tablet in Ex’s hand. The feed showed a scan of the two-story house tucked behind a row of tall Evergreens and bare winter trees.
“Movement?” Meridian asked.
“Four inside,” Ex murmured. “One in the backyard, one in the kitchen and a another in the living room—smaller frame, probably the woman, and one on the second floor.”
Grace stared at the screen, tapping his fingers against his thigh. A tic only Mirage could interpret. He stared at his partner and nodded once.
“He’s saying let’s do this the fast way. Two-count entry.”
“Works for me,” Meridian said. “We don’t give ’em time to react. We hit, grab, and leave.”
Jo’s voice came through their comms.
“Gage is secured and en route to the facility. Your turn.”
“The Greens are such overachievers,” Ex griped.
They exited the SUV, moving like phantoms across the icy lawn. No words or wasted motions.
Meridian led them down the right flank, and Grace shifted left with Mirage drifting behind him. Ex slipped up the center, hood low, posture loose.
Once they were in position, Meridian raised his fist.
Ex and Grace mirrored him. Go on two.
Mirage eased a slim blade from his sleeve and stuck it inside the lock. After a quick twist, it disengaged with a whisper-soft click, and they poured inside.
A big man—who Meridian assumed was the King’s enforcer, Pun—was in the kitchen with his face in a Chinese food carton.
He turned, eyes wide as he reached toward his waistline.
He was too slow, and the Browns were too fast.
Grace drove his boot into Pun’s gut. The impact blasted the half-chewed sweet-and-sour chicken from his mouth and hurled him backward into the glass table, that shattered beneath his weight.
Drea raced into the room with a metal Louisville Slugger raised high over her head. Mirage blurred into motion, materializing from behind his partner, catching her by her wrist mid-swing.
He twisted it gentler than he would’ve anyone else, forcing her to drop the bat.
She didn’t pause as she drew a blade from the depths of her cleavage. Mirage spun her hard enough to throw her off balance and pinned her chest against the wall.
“Stand down. That’s my final warning,” he hissed. “I won’t give you another.”
The third one stumbled in from the patio in a haze of weed smoke, eyes bloodshot, high and confused. He took in the scene and drew his gun sluggishly.
Mirage didn’t take his eyes off the feral fox in his grasp as he flipped a blade from his sleeve and flung backward. It sank into the wall an inch from Smoke’s left eye, that made him freeze in place.
He dropped his gun, linked his fingers behind his head, and dropped to his knees as if he were under arrest.
Meridian rolled his eyes, walking past the ridiculousness. He didn’t have time for this shit.