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One could argue that Z Corps was a paramilitary unit. If not that, an NGO who benefited greatly going into places and doing the things the government had no interest in being tied to. So it was ironic how he spat those letters out like that wasn’t exactly what he was.
But I wasn’t a PMC as such.
“Something like that,” I returned.
“That’s—”
“All you’re going to get,” I cut him off to put an end to a conversation that could’ve taken place in the conference room but now wasn’t going to happen at all.
I had places to go and people to see and a traitor to kill.
“Thanks for walking me down. I think I can find my way from here.”
With that, I opened the door and saw myself out.
Each step I took away from Easton the knot in my stomach tightened. By the time I made it outside the building and heard the heavy glass door lock behind me I had a feeling I’d made a mistake.
Perhaps I should’ve begged for Zane’s help.
Perhaps I should’ve pleaded my case.
Perhaps I was in over my head.
I blew out a breath, gazed up at the clear blue cloudless sky, and hoped I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life.
The sky offered no answer.
So I went back to my phone and made the necessary arrangements to get to Florida before I texted my father an update.
His reply: Be safe.
Not come home. Not I’ll handle this. Not I love you.
Just, be safe.
Modus operandi.
Zero emotions.
I was indeed my father’s daughter. The daughter he’d trained to be a mercenary.
The Mediator.
The Dove.
And the time had come.
The student would become the teacher.
And Maddon Judd would learn my lesson with his last breath.
FOUR
Zane “Viper” Lewis
“What the fuck just happened?” Cash asked the room at large.
But it was Zane who spoke. “This is what’s called the gift that keeps on giving. Like a case of anal warts—once you have them, good luck trying to stop the itch.”
