As they walked toward the black SUVs idling on the tarmac, Mia's mind flickered back, a jagged, painful jump to three years ago. The memory tasted like copper and dust.
She remembered the day her father, Wayne, had essentially signed her death warrant, shipping her off to join the Syndicate in Colombia. He had expected her to be consumed by the jungle; instead, she had let the jungle turn her into a predator.
Mia had swallowed balloons of drugs until her stomach burned, playing the mule to stay alive. She had endured the unthinkable, raped again and again by men who thought she was a broken toy. She had waited, watched, and learned their secrets while they underestimated her.
