MINE.
I know exactly the sort of chaos this will cause, and I find myself impatient to watch it ensue.
I slip the phone away and lean back against the seat, turning my attention to the passing lights beyond the window as the car continues on, while the notifications begin to erupt again.
I already know people are losing their minds over the photograph of a man’s hand on my thigh, and somewhere among that flood of reactions will be Markev, very much not taking this well at all.
We arrive at the warehouse less than twenty minutes later.
Two of our vehicles are already parked outside. Men stand by the entrance. They nod as I pass.
Inside, the air is cold and metallic.
A man is strapped to a chair at the centre of the room.
I smile.
Let the fun begin.
Chapter 18
Milo
Someone is dying today.
I press the call button.
“Yes?” comes an irritated answer.
“I need you to track a number,” I say. “I want exact coordinates.”
“Give me a second.”
I hear tapping, followed by a brief pause, then my phone vibrates as a text comes through.
I end the call without another word.
A notification follows almost immediately.
Arlo:
A thank you would have been acceptable, but manners are not a trait you possess.
I ignore him and open the location he has sent.
Perfect.
The helicopter doesn’t even properly settle before I am climbing inside, giving the pilot the coordinates and ordering him to move.
I take the first aid kit and clean the blood from my tights as best I can, sealing the worst of the wounds with medical glue for now. I will need stitches later, but at least I am not bleeding to death in the meantime.
Then I change into a pair of clean jeans.
I gave instructions to my men, and they did not disappoint. Whoever was responsible deserves a raise, the jeans fit perfectly.
We land exactly where another helicopter waits, already parked.
And it takes me a second to recognise that this is the one she took here.
