“They’re killing everyone!” he shouts frantically.
Gabriel moves instantly.
Fast enough it barely looks human.
He grabs the terrified fighter by the vest.
“How many?”
“Black uniforms—no insignia—”
A gunshot cuts him off.
Blood explodes from the back of the man’s skull.
His body collapses instantly at Gabriel’s feet.
The loading dock goes dead silent.
Because standing in the smoke-filled entrance behind the falling body—
Are men dressed entirely in matte black combat armor.
No insignias.
No visible faces.
No hesitation.
And every single weapon in the room slowly lifts toward them.
One of the masked soldiers steps forward calmly through the smoke.
Then speaks in perfect English.
“Acquire the doctor.”
My stomach drops straight through the floor.
Because they’re talking about me.
24
Clay
No.
Absolutely not.
The masked soldiers move into the loading dock with terrifying precision.
Black armor.
No insignias.
No exposed skin.
Nothing human about them except the rifles in their hands.
