Chapter 30 · The Pickup List

Cole's hands stayed loose at his sides. The rifle barrel was steady on Ivy's chest. Young Nail's finger sat outside the trigger guard—professional, cautious, ready to drop inside the second anything moved wrong.

"I asked you a question," Nail said. His voice was younger, sharper. Less worn. "Who the hell are you, and how do you know about the pickup?"

Cole's throat locked. He knew this version of Nail. Loop One Nail. The man who'd dragged him out of a firefight in Kharsa when Cole had frozen on his first contract kill. The man who'd bought him drinks after and told him it got easier. It hadn't.

"We're not hostiles," Ivy said. Her tone was calm, clinical. Surgeon voice. "Lower the weapon and we'll explain."

"You'll explain now."

Cole forced himself to breathe. Rook and Trace were ten yards back, rifles half-raised, confused but ready to follow Nail's lead. The snow was coming down harder. The ridge behind them was the same ridge where Rook would take a round through the neck in forty minutes if Cole gave the go-ahead on the warehouse assault. The same warehouse where Trace would bleed out holding his guts in.