Secret Silver | hiatus

vii. blackmail & cyanide

Seven people died in Mission Nova, three of them by my hands.

We were to await a cargo ship arriving from Germany, secure cases upon cases of illegal lethal weapons, and kill anyone who stood in our way. We were told that this gang was planning on using them to overturn the government and take innocent lives on the way. 

Now, I wondered what actually happened with those weapons once our agency got access to them. The truth was that my mother's journal probably held answers to every question I had, but I continued to ignore reading it alone. I didn't know if I could handle the truth that was engraved inside those pages.

"How long until 11?" I whispered, my breath fogging up the chilled air. I was on edge and ready to fight.  

The fact that we were blackmailed was not what scared me. It wasn't the first time. What was terrifying was that they might hurt a person that had been nothing but kind to me. And I guess Clinton was right.

That was my weakness. 

Maya and I planned for the meeting as if it was protocol. We knew what to do almost instinctively, but this time, we had to be careful. We weren't sure how many agents Clinton would have with him. Between the headquarters that my mother destroyed and the other one that I set on fire, I'm sure that many agents died.

But G.O.L.D. was not easily annihilated. We had people all over the world, and if Clinton was alive, then I was sure that he had men with him. 

And we didn't have backup. Maya and I had taken on fifteen men at once before, but this was different. Then, we were not worried about someone innocent getting caught in the crossfire. 

"Five minutes," Maya whispered, her shoulder touching mine as we crouched down. We were sitting on top of stacks of cargo alongside the dock, the sound of water splashing against the wood surrounding us. 

I adjusted my earpiece, and Maya did the same. It was now dark, not a single cloud in the sky. The stars and a few dim streetlights were the only things lighting up the night. My favorite time to fight was always the night. It felt like I couldn't see the faces of the people I was fighting as clearly, making it harder to remember the faces of the lives I'd taken.

Reaching down to my belt, I made sure that everything I needed was fastened tightly to my torso, including two journals. We were dressed in all black, leather hugging our bodies from our necks down to our ankles. 

It felt natural.

"How are we doing this? Florence style, or L.A.?" Maya looked at me briefly, strapping gloves around her hands, her blue eyes fierce in the night. 

Although her expression was serious, her soft voice carried a hint of humor as she mentioned the cities in which we'd carried out similar missions.

I breathed deeply, keeping my eyes on the ground beneath us. There was no one in sight for miles down the dock. 

"Lagos style. No mercy."

Not one person from the other side survived that night in Lagos.

Her lips set in a line, she nodded in agreement.

There was no room for mercy. Not anymore.

"One minute. Be careful. I'll be nearby."

Without waiting for a response, Maya jumped off of the cargo and landed on her feet, knees bent and one hand on the ground, the other on the gun in her back pocket. She disappeared into the night without leaving a trace of where she went. But I knew she was around. She had eyes on me, always.