Chapter 10 · A Dead Girl's Message

The woman in my car had a gun pointed at the dashboard. Not at me. Not at Ava. Just resting there like she'd forgotten it was in her hand.

"You're late," she said.

I stopped three feet from the driver's door. Ava was behind me, still half inside the garage, probably deciding whether to bolt or pull her own piece.

"Lady, I don't know you."

"Mark Weston. Callsign Frost. Discharged under non-standard terms eighteen months ago after the Vilnius extraction went sideways. You lost two teammates. You didn't lose your memory." She turned her head. Dark hair, pale skin, eyes that didn't blink enough. Mid-twenties maybe. "You've died six times since Tuesday."

My hand went to my wrist before I could stop it. The six was still there. Faint. Black. Like someone had tattooed it with a needle made of cold.

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Because I've been watching you die." She lowered the gun into her lap. "And because I used to have a number too."

Ava stepped up beside me. Her voice was tight. "Mark. We leaving or listening?"

The woman's mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "You should listen.