Page 110 of Prey

“Questions?” Raphael asks.

“Just one,” Jenna says. “What does it do to you? Going into these places, seeing what’s in them. I’ve killed men who deserved it and it still left a mark. This is something else. I want to know what I’m walking into.”

The question hangs in the air. Then Theon answers with devastating honesty.

“It marks you. Every time. We won’t pretend it doesn’t.” He holds her gaze. “But you won’t be carrying it alone. Whatever’s in there, you bring it back to this table, and everyone here has already seen worse. That’s the only thing that makes it survivable.”

“And you hold on to the reason,” Damon says quietly. “What’s in those places—it’s the reason we exist. Nobody else is coming for those kids. We are.”

“You’ll be changed by it,” Marcus says. There’s no apology in it. “We all were. The question is whether you’d rather be changed by walking in, or by knowing you could have and didn’t.”

Jenna nods slowly, and I can see her understanding crystallize. This isn’t about revenge, though revenge is sweet. This is about protection. About using the weapons we were made into to defend the innocent.

“Then let’s go save some children,” she says simply.

The meeting breaks up with the efficient brutality that marks all our operations. Equipment lists, timeline confirmations, tactical considerations. But I catch the looks my brothers give Jenna as she participates naturally in the planning.

She fits. Seamlessly, perfectly, like she was always meant to be here.

As we prepare to leave, Marcus approaches. “She’s good,” he says quietly. “Sharp tactical mind, steady under pressure.”

“I know.”

“You sure about bringing her on elimination?”

“She’s killed five traffickers. She can handle whatever we find in Prague.”

Marcus nods. “Just checking. Some of the things Theon has planned for the personnel… they’re not pretty.”

“She knows what pretty looks like. She’s choosing ugly for the right reasons.”

“Like us,” Marcus states.

“Like us.”

As we head for the elevator, my phone buzzes with another encrypted message. Marcus again, but this one makes my blood freeze.

Prague facility just received a new shipment. Twelve additional subjects, ages 5-8. Conditioning protocols accelerated. We’re running out of time.

I show the message to Jenna. Her face hardens into beauty and terror.

“Change of timeline?” she asks.

“Twenty-four hours,” I confirm.

“Good.” Her voice carries the promise of violence. “Those bastards have had those children long enough.”

39

JENNA

The tactical gear feels like a second skin now. Kevlar vest, night vision goggles, the weight of weapons distributed across my body. Twenty-four hours of intensive preparation have transformed me from observer to operator.

“Comms check,” Ezra’s voice crackles through my earpiece from his overwatch position two kilometers out.

“Elimination One, clear,” Nikolai responds.

“Elimination Two, clear,” I follow, testing my mic.