Clay’s voice drops lower beside me.
“What does he mean dead?”
Russ keeps his rifle trained on Gabriel as he answers.
“There were rumors a few years back.” His jaw tightens slightly. “Black operations team. Off-books government work.The entire unit disappeared during an extraction in Eastern Europe.”
Gabriel finally speaks.
“We were abandoned.”
The words land hard.
Not angry.
Not emotional.
Just factual.
That tells me more than anger would have.
The militia commander laughs harshly outside.
“Yes. And now he works for whoever pays best.”
Gabriel’s eyes shift toward the commander.
Cold.
“You trafficked children,” he says to the militia man.
“And you’ve killed for governments who bury mass graves.”
The temperature in the loading dock drops instantly.
Because nobody denies either accusation.
Jesus Christ.
Who are these people?
Clay slowly steps more in front of me again.
Protective instinct.
Automatic.
Gabriel notices it immediately.
“You trust the wrong people, Vincent.”
Clay’s expression hardens.
“I’m not taking morality lessons from a ghost.”
A strange flicker almost looks like amusement in Gabriel’s eyes.
Almost.
