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“Archangel is online, and I am clear in three … two … one.”
A brief pause. Then the voice of his employer. Cold. Measured. Absolute. “Jinx.”
“Sir,” Jinx acknowledged.
“We’re sending you back to Venezuela.”
Jinx’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. A single eyebrow arched at the unexpected directive. He hadn’t been back there in two years. Two long, quiet years.
“Target?”
The answer came like a thunderclap. “El Fantasma.”
Jinx’s jaw clenched. The name wasn’t just infamous. It was legendary.The Ghost. A phantom assassin whose true identity had remained a mystery for years. No confirmed images. No known alias. Just death, precision, and vanishing into the ether. The man would make a damn good Shadow if he didn’t work for the drug trade.
He let the name roll off his tongue. “The Ghost.”
“Yes. We have intel on his identity. He’s been coded by the Council.” Archangel’s voice remained devoid of emotion. “Where are you?”
“Colorado.”
“Good. Brando will send you the airfield coordinates. Wheels up in six hours. Your full briefing will be waiting for you when you board.”
“Copy.”
“Archangel clear.”
The comm went silent.
Jinx inhaled deeply, staring out over the vast mountains bathed in silver moonlight. But he wasn’t seeing them. His mind was elsewhere.
He was back in Venezuela.
Back in that small, unremarkable house where he had spent nights with the only woman he had ever considered leaving Guardian for.
The one he had walked away from without a word.
It had been the hardest thing he had ever done—harder than any kill or mission. Those left him detached and unburdened. She had made himfeel. And he had spent the last two years burying that weakness, convincing himself that walking away had been the right call.
His fingers flexed against the wheel, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
Maybe … just maybe, he could ensure she was safe. No contact. Nothing left behind. Just … a glimpse.
She wouldn’t even know he was there.
That would be his last thought of her.
The very last.
Because once he stepped into Venezuela’s underbelly again, there would be no room for distractions.
Not even for the woman he had loved and left.
* * *