Prologue #3
I get my eyes open. I find her.
“I’ll kill you myself if you touch a hair on their heads,” I say, feebly.
“He could’ve killed me. They risked everything to hide me and care for me.
They are not loose ends, and their entire history and lineage is being erased as we speak.
They are the only ones left who know what happened here and can tell the truth.
Whoever you are, whatever you are, have some fucking mercy. ”
The tide’s going out and this time it feels like the kind that doesn’t bring you back, and I spend the last of the air on the only sentence that seems worth it.
“Let me die, but please let them run.”
Her lips twitch into the slightest amused smile, like a predator teasing her prey.
“I mean, how much English do they know? There’s a boat at the ridge that’ll take us to a private jet home.
But they need the code word, and the boat captain won’t trust a native speaker.
I’m not here for Kesara. I was only passing through when I saw the wreck.
I was cleaning up a different mess when I saw the helicopter crash. ”
“CIA?”
She shakes her head.
“Special Forces? Army? FBI?”
She shakes her head again, unflinching as the gunshots continue. “I don’t belong to anybody anymore. I’m loyal to nothing except my agenda.”
I glance in the corner of the room where the black box sits. “There’s proof—in the flight records, and Belai’s journals. The admiral, the Navy, our entire governing agency…we could expose them all.”
“In time. Sacrificing U.S. service members to incite a war we have no business being in is a drop in the bucket. There are even more nefarious things going on right now. A cobra finds the perfect moment to strike. Get home, get rest, heal, and then you can plan your vengeance.”
“Vengeance?” Summoning every ounce of strength that truly isn’t in me, I sit up. I groan as something gushes from my bullet wound. That can’t be good.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Revenge?”
“I don’t know.” I look at Belai, Nuria, Sameen. My brave saviors who saw value in my life, when my own commanding officers did not. But I’ve belonged to the flag since I was eighteen years old. That’s all I know. “I’m no snitch.”
“But are you a hero? What’s your name, soldier?”
“Sailor,” I correct. “Petty Officer First Class Jeffrey Callen.”
She studies me for a long moment. Something moves across her face that I can’t make out and she doesn’t bother to explain.
“Well, Callen, in my experience, it’s the whistleblowers, tattletales, snitches, and canaries that tend to change the world for the better.
That’s all we can ask for right now. Not justice.
Not reform. Not even the truth. Just…better. ”
“What’s your name?” My question croaks out and hangs in the air like smoke. She lets it linger, and something on her face morphs into sincerity.
“Raegan in another life. I go by Vesper now. And once upon a time, Callen, I was worse off than you are. So when I tell you I’m going to get you and your friends out of here alive and safe…do you trust me?”
She takes a few steps toward me and holds out her hand.
“With an operative name like Vesper? No, not really.”
She smirks. “Well, sorry, you don’t have much of a choice. Can you stand?”
I inhale, testing the full expansion of my lungs, and force out the deepest breath I can, which still comes out wobbly. “It’d take a miracle.”
“Then let’s make some miracles.”
She barks a few orders to Belai and Nuria.
I don’t know what’s said, but obediently Sameen fetches a blanket before crouching in a corner, covering himself.
Nuria begins to wrap the black box and Belai’s journals in cloth.
She quickly fashions a knapsack, preparing to carry our treasures on her back.
Vesper hands Belai a pistol, which he takes before coming to my side, bracing his shoulder as an anchor for me.
“Point that down, Belai,” I say to him firmly when I realize the barrel is unintentionally aimed at my crotch.
“You have exactly two minutes to get on your feet, Callen. I know it hurts, but now’s the time to be superhuman.” She heads toward the front door.
“You’re going to go take on a group of men armed with AKs with a short-range pistol? It’s a suicide mission.”
She winks and pats her thigh. “I also have a pocketknife. Don’t worry about me, sailor. I’ve done more with less. All you need to focus on is getting on your feet and figuring out how to put one foot in front of the other.”
“Say we survive, which is unlikely…then what?”
She looks over her shoulder and shrugs. “And then the rest.”
With that she’s through the door. It’s mere seconds before I hear her pistol popping off, but not the chaotic fire spray like the enemy.
Precise kill shots, like she dare not waste a bullet.
I force myself upright—all my weight on my unbroken leg, standing only by sheer will and determination to live…
to protect my new friends—and all I can think is:
Vesper.
What an odd fucking angel.