Those two were not ordinary people. Not even close.
According to the notes I'd written to myself, Whitney and Vito had already traced enough leads to dismantle several of the organization's smaller operations. The lower-level players were likely already gone. That meant the people who had just stepped off that helicopter were something else entirely — the ones at the top, the ones who gave the orders.
The woman had looked at me like she wanted me dead. Not out of anger or impulse, but with the quiet, calculated hatred of someone who had already decided. I didn't know her name yet, but I knew that look. She knew exactly who I was, and she had her reasons for despising me.
A chill moved through me, and underneath it — something that felt almost like hunger. I wanted answers. I wanted justice.
But then I looked down at my belly, round and heavy, and everything sharpened into a single priority.
