72. Mandy

MANDY

The door starts to swing open.

I hear movement through the comm. Of course he’s already coming.

Impossibly, I smile. “Hendricks.”

“I’m here,” he says, sounding as unruffled as usual.

Three hundred yards away, a house full of armed men between us, and somehow those two words settle something inside me.

I’m here.

Yeah—I know.

I slide the pin between my fingers and turn toward whoever’s coming through the door. Showtime.

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