Page 73

Mirage

Ex concluded the meeting after eleven minutes of the team stuttering unlikely possibilities of what could’ve happened. “Corvo, Spectre, set up a training facility for a four-man ops mission tomorrow at oh seven hundred. Blacks and Browns will train together this week.”

Their handlers exchanged more perplexed looks before Corvo nodded in Meridian’s direction.

“You got it, Mere.”

Spectre answered, “I’ll see it done.”

“Meeting adjourned,” Ex deadpanned.

The four of them got up as if they were a synchronized dance team.

“Wait, no, we’re not done. Keep the conference door locked,” the director ordered the guards. “I need Zelmir Benton executed tomorrow by any means. We’ll rendezvous in the strategy room in thirty. This mission is still classified as FPL Delta.”

Meridian turned and began to walk toward the director’s seat, stalking him like a panther.

The debriefing team sat stone-still, eyes cast downward, sweat beading at their temples. Their administrator, Jo, was the only one looking as if she’d seen this coming…and was glad of it.

Time seemed to slow as trouble hung heavy in the air, Meridian’s darkness absorbing what was left of the light in the room.

“Fuck, don’t, Meridian, please.” Corvo rose but didn’t go farther. “We’re gonna do whatever you guys need, and we’re gonna find out who the mercenaries were that attacked you. I swear on my own life.”

Meridian continued to take slow, purposeful steps.

After Corvo ended his plea, the only sound that remained was the director’s labored breaths.

Hell, even Mirage was stunned to silence. This was completely off script.

He didn’t know the last time he’d felt anxious, but Meridian was fucking scary as shit.

No one else could see the deep, black pools that were Meridian’s eyes except them. The rest only saw his tanned skin and chiseled jaw.

Meridian stood behind the director’s chair, amplifying the fear pulsing around the room. He made the corrupt bastard sweat through his expensive suit before he leaned over and put his lips close to his ear.

“If we discover you had anything to do with what happened in Germany…I will torture you in a way that’ll make you fall on your knees and beg me for death.”

Fuckin’ hell.

Mirage was transfixed, and Ex looked turned on.

“If you run…I will find you.”

Meridian’s voice was cold and dark, and then he rose to his imposing height.

Ex scoffed at the trembling director. “You’re fuckin’ dumber than you look if you thought a goddamn lock on a door could contain any of us.”

Ex went toward the glass wall, ignoring the door, and was three steps away when Meridian reached into the depths of his long overcoat, where danger lived, exposing the glint of a marble handle.

Whisper’s steel shimmered as Meridian yanked it from its sheath. He threw it like a javelin toward the center of the glass, the blade soaring through the air with the speed of an archer’s arrow.

A second later, the ear-splitting break sounded like a dozen windows shattering and hitting concrete. With perfect timing, Ex walked beneath the waterfall of glass as if the shards were raindrops. Mirage and Grace followed closely, then stood outside the room while Meridian left the terrified debriefing team.

Once outside, Meridian yanked Whisper out of the wall and made it disappear somewhere on him.

The three of them allowed the alpha of the Ravens—Meridian—to lead them back to the elevator.