Page 70 of The ARC Unit: Breach

“And if he does not remember Milan?”

Jackal’s advice from two days earlier came back immediately.

I smiled. “I’m offended. Touch his arm. Men lose half their processing power.”

Wolf’s eyes narrowed. “Do not use Jackal as an operational doctrine.”

“He said it was peer reviewed.”

Before I could say I was kidding, the vehicle stopped. Wolf reached across when I moved for the handle and caught my wrist. His glove closed with enough controlled pressure to stop me without hurting me too much. I looked down at his hand, then back at him.

“Mercer.”

“What?”

“If I tell you to leave, you leave. If Raven tells you the signal is failing, you fix it. If I hear you arguing over comms because you think another second is worth more than the extraction plan, I will pull you myself.”

My irritation flared. “You already made the point.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“Why? Because I disagree with you sometimes?”

“Because you confuse stubbornness with judgment.”

I yanked my wrist free.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“After the operation, you can be as offended as you want. Right now, go do your job.”

His words should have done nothing but piss me off. Unfortunately, being insulted by a masked asshole in tactical gear was doing something deeply unhelpful to me. I opened the door and quickly got out, cold air immediately sliding beneath the cover-up and over my bare legs.

Raven’s voice followed through the earpiece. “Audio good.”

Wolf said nothing as I closed the door and became Mia Morgan.

The estate appeared around the bend after a short walk, pale stone walls curving with the road until they opened at a set of black iron gates. Two men in fitted navy suits checked names against tablets while valets took keys from guests arriving in convertibles, black sedans and enough German luxury vehicles to make the parking area look like a dealership had developed a cocaine problem. Music carried faintly from behind the house.

I adjusted the strap of my small bag and joined the line. When my turn came, the security man found Mia Morgan without hesitation.

“Guest of the Bellandi group?”

“That’s right.”

He handed me a narrow wristband. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

I walked through before he could decide the American family-office employee looked too pleased with herself.

“You’re in,” Raven murmured.

“I noticed.”

“Don’t search for cameras.”

“Wasn’t going to.”

Wolf’s voice entered immediately. “You looked left.”