The blood hadn’t dried on Senator Hale’s carpet before Lena was already walking away. Her movements were clinical, rehearsed, almost inhuman. No guilt, no fear, not even the faintest tremor in her hands. Just the cold calm of a weapon executing its purpose.
She moved to the fire escape where a black sedan idled, waiting. Gabriel’s men opened the back door without a word, and Lena slid inside. The ride was silent—no one dared to speak to her. Even the soldiers tasked with escorting her avoided her gaze.
When they arrived back at the Organization’s fortified compound, Gabriel was waiting in the courtyard. A cigar glowed between his teeth, the smoke curling around him like the devil’s halo. He spread his arms as Lena approached, the smile on his face smug and wolfish.
“Beautiful,” he said,
