Chapter 3 - Fractured Allegiances
We were in my cramped apartment, the blinds drawn tight. June sat on the edge of the sofa, clutching a glass of water that hadn't been touched in an hour.
“Who is he, Callie?” she whispered.
“He’s a man who believes the ends justify the means,” I said, checking the perimeter.
I looked at my reflection in the hallway mirror. The woman staring back looked like a tired clerk, but the eyes—those eyes were pure predatory focus. I pulled my tactical bag from behind the baseboards. It was still there, packed and ready, a time capsule of my old life.
“We have to go,” I said. “Voss isn’t the only one coming.”
“Where?” June asked. “My father is dead. There’s nowhere to go.”
“There’s a cabin in the Cascades,” I said. “A place I kept for a contingency. If we can reach it, we can disappear for real.”
But as I packed, a sound caught my ear. Not a car. Not a breeze. A heavy, rhythmic thud against the front door.
Boom.
They weren't knocking. They were breaching.
“Get into the bathroom,” I commanded June. I moved to the kitchen, grabbing the knife block.
The door splintered. Two men in tactical gear stepped inside, night-vision goggles flipped up. They weren't local cops; they were professionals. They moved with the same efficiency I once had.
I didn't wait for them to find their targets. I threw the heavy cast-iron pan into the hallway, creating a cacophony, and moved through the shadows. I took the first man down before he could raise his rifle, using a combat hold that broke his spirit and his neck. The second turned, his eyes wide.
May you like
“Callie?” he spat.
“Not today,” I whispered, sliding my knife into his vest’s gap.
