Page 114 of Hunt Me
A man in tactical gear stumbles through the doorway, blood spreading across his shoulder. He raises a pistol with trembling hands.
“Nobody moves.”
I recognize the voice from Morrison’s communications. Jenkins—Sentinel’s field operative who handled the Frankfurt asset deployment.
“Jenkins.” Kendall rises slowly. “Stand down.”
“Fuck that.” He swings the weapon toward her. “You were going to burn us. Trade Sentinel for immunity.”
“That’s not?—”
“I heard everything.” Spittle flies from his mouth. “Morrison’s dead because of you. Because you couldn’t contain one fucking hacker.”
Alexi’s grip tightens on my hand, keeping me anchored.
Jenkins’ finger twitches on the trigger, and the world narrows to that single point of pressure.
“Easy.” General Hawkins keeps his hands visible. “Put the weapon down.”
“You think I’m stupid?” Jenkins’ eyes are wild, unfocused. Blood soaks through his tactical vest. “Morrison promised protection. He promised we’d be covered if things went sideways.”
“Morrison’s dead,” Walsh says carefully. “He can’t fulfill those promises.”
“Because ofher.” The pistol swings toward me.
Alexi shifts, angling his body between us. Erik moves fractionally closer, evaluating angles, calculating trajectories.
“She breached classified systems. She stole government property. She killed a federal agent.” Jenkins’ breathing comes in ragged gasps. “And you’re sitting here negotiating like she’s got leverage.”
“The situation is more complex than—” Kendall starts.
“Shut the fuck up.” He aims at her again. “You were going to sacrifice everyone at Sentinel to save your careers. I heard you planning it.”
My pulse hammers against my ribs. Jenkins is bleeding out, probably concussed, definitely irrational. The combination makes him exponentially more dangerous.
“Listen to me.” I keep my voice level. “Morrison tortured my friend. He held me at gunpoint.”
“Because you wouldn’t stop digging.” His focus snaps back to me. “You couldn’t leave it alone. Your parents were handled years ago, but you had to keep pushing.”
White-hot rage floods through me. “Handled? You mean murdered.”
“They knew too much.” He shrugs, the movement making him sway. “Same as you. Same as Morrison now. We’re all just loose ends waiting to be tied off.”
Dmitri’s hand disappears beneath the table. Erik’s weight shifts almost imperceptibly toward his right side—his shooting stance.
“Nobody has to die today,” Nikolai says with dangerous calm. “Lower the weapon. We can discuss?—”
“Discussion is what got us here.” Jenkins laughs, the sound wet and broken. “You people and your negotiations. Your leverage. Your mutually assured destruction.” He cocks the hammer. “How about some actual destruction instead?”
The fluorescent lights reflect off the barrel as it centers on my chest.
29
ALEXI
My hand moves before conscious thought registers.
The gunshot cracks through the conference room. Jenkins crumples, Erik’s bullet catching him center mass. The operative’s weapon clatters across the polished floor, discharge unfired.
