Page 101 of Green Ravens

Jo was talking a mile a minute as she and the lead of her shadow team laid out a plan for them to meet Grace and Mirage.

“I swear. At their debriefing, Meridian threatened to torture the director before he killed him if he finds any truth of his alleged corruption,” Jo said wide-eyed. “They have their handlers, Spector and Corvo, chasing their tails for answers about Hamburg. Trust me, now is the time, Valor. I would never put you or Zorion in danger. The Browns willnotattack you.”

He and Valor exchanged glances before nodding in unison. They’d been holed up at the safehouse with an impatient Zelmir for long enough.

They’d wanted to go back to the Order with Lion and Omega, but Jo had forbidden it. So, they’d trained on their new weapons for twelve hours each day while they waited.

“Okay, what’s the plan,” he asked.

“Grace and Mirage will be at their favorite restaurant tonight,” she began. “Zelmir, I’m gonna need your balls to drop.If your family is still being held in the Ravens facility, then I’m gonna need your help with this part.”

Zorion’s fingers were steady on the grip of his bow as he sat perched high on a wide branch of an oak in Whispering Pines Park.

As planned, Zelmir dressed as a waiter at the restaurant the Browns were dining in and dropped an inconspicuous note on their table that intrigued them enough to follow him.

Zelmir led the Browns to their location in the park, and the moment he dashed behind a thick bush, the five most skilled disciples of the Order Lion and Omega had left for them were there to rush him back to safety.

Zorion watched the Browns move cautiously into the wooded park, but not cautiously enough.

They were outsiders in this domain. Although light-footed, they were still intruders who disturbed the sacred rhythm of the forest.

Zorion could feel the vibrations of the Browns’ steps through the earth, their weight pressing into the layers of fallen pine needles.

Valor was positioned below to his left, silent as a predator.

Zorion tilted his head, picking up the micro-movements of the Browns.

He could see the slight contractions of their muscles, even the rise and fall of their breaths. They were waiting, expecting something, but so was he.

Grace led with his partner tucked close behind. He wore a chestnut leather trench which housed man weapons that would be unnoticed by an untrained eye. His counterpart, Mirage, wore a burnished copper-colored pullover with a lightweight hood that only left his smooth jaw visible.

They appeared skilled and alert, but Zorion felt no pause or fear.

“They’re cautious but confident,” Valor murmured.

“Let’s shatter that confidence, shall we.”

Zorion exhaled, lining up a shot.

He released his first arrow, which sliced through the air with a low whistle before it embedded itself in the soft ground inches from the toe of Grace’s boots.

First warning.

Three more followed in rapid succession, hitting the earth in a perfect line, forming a barricade of silent threat.

Before the arrows landed, Zorion was moving, his feet barely touching the branches as he repositioned to keep the Browns from locking onto him.

Their reaction was immediate.

Mirage produced two knives, the metal gleaming in the dim light, while Grace pulled out two big chrome handguns.

Predictable.

They relied on steel and gunpowder, force rather than finesse.

Zorion felt a pang of disappointment. From all of Jo’s hype, he’d expected more.

“That’s far enough,” Zorion called, letting his voice weave through the trees.

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