Page 49 of Braxton

“In trace amounts, it takes longer to work,” Zane said thoughtfully. “Back in 2018, there was an incident involving a former Russian double agent. He and his daughter collapsed at a shopping center and Novichok was later found on the doorknob of his home. They managed to survive, so finding the right amount and form of delivery is key to its success.”

“And that’s why Cross has been having Zaitsev test it,” Brax said, voice thoughtful.

“So he’s probably planning to use the chemical weapon, but on a smaller scale,” Saint concluded. “That means we need to have gas masks and wear gloves when we’re there.”

“Saint and Demon, organize PPE for everyone in small backpacks,” Brax said. “Banshee, River and Lucas, keep digging and see what you can find on that picture. Also, make sure tocheck if Cross has any connections to France, specifically that manor house.”

Ryland walked over, Harper beside him. “Cross might’ve been hiding out there after faking his own death. Addie just reminded me how he’d mentioned enjoying his time over here between ops.”

“How’s your sister handling your dad’s resurrection?” Saint asked.

“Addie can handle anything,” Ryland informed them. “She’s pretty damn fierce.”

“I’d love to meet her one day,” Harper said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“One day,” Ryland murmured. “What do you need me to do, Pharaoh?”

“Prepare yourself,” Brax stated, “because tonight we’re going to do whatever it takes to stop your father.”

“I know and, trust me, I’m ready.”

Brax gave the other man a nod, glad to hear it. Because the last thing he needed was any conflict of interest. Across from him, Saint looked thoughtful, probably because Mia had been through a similar experience recently where she’d had to choose sides—Saint or her father. In her case, not everything was as it seemed, and Chadwick Carlisle was now one less enemy Ex Nihilo had to deal with, thanks to an avalanche.

No matter what other intel surfaced in the next few hours, one thing remained the same. Brax and his team had a job to do. They were going to infiltrate Cross’ manor house and eliminate the last Agency members still standing in a final confrontation.

He didn’t need any last minute surprises, but a little voice in his head told him to be prepared for anything. And that damn voice was always right.

Chapter Twenty

The dinner guests would be arriving soon and Quinn swallowed hard. Even though she was ready to get this over with, her nerves twisted in anxiety and she paced back and forth in her room. Pausing in front of the large monumental fireplace, she looked up, studying the butterfly carved in the stone. It was part of a beautiful, intricate design and she remembered seeing the same butterfly on the fireplace downstairs, too.

Papillon. It was the French word for butterfly, and the moment the thought filled her head, she thought of the infamous French assassin who went by the same name. After all, Papillon had been her biggest influence when Quinn had gone on the run and created her own persona, the Cardinal.

Not much was known about Papillon other than her precision when it came to killing. She’d been swift and ruthless, and no one had ever managed to catch her or reveal her true identity. Granted, it could have been a man. But Quinn had always believed the assassinations had been carried out by a woman because of their nature—her modus operandi had always been poison.

Untraceable, effective and deadly.

The assassin disappeared years ago and everyone assumed she’d finally met her match and been bested by an opponent, her body never to be found.

“Fuck me,” Quinn hissed, hightailing it over to the large window. Her gaze swept the grounds, trying to get a glimpse of the small cemetery they’d passed on the way in. She couldn’t see it, though. A strange idea began bouncing around in her head, and she decided to go investigate.

Grabbing her leather jacket, she slipped it on, snuck down the back staircase and hurried outside. A crisp wind blew her red hair up around her face as she jogged around the house and stepped into the edge of the woods. Using it for cover, she made her way down a path until she saw the small clustering of gravestones.

She moved quickly across the grass and walked up to the headstones. The name Julien Mercier was etched into the first one and a rose lay at its base. She sucked in a sharp breath, quite familiar with the deadly assassin’s work. He and his twin sister Camille had been an infamous duo who she’d often competed with for jobs. But, unlike Quinn, who only chose to take out scum, the Mercier twins had bloodlust burning in their veins. They would eliminate anyone—innocent or guilty.

Quinn knew Ex Nihilo had taken care of the twins. Gray had shot Julien after he and Camille attacked him and Saint down at Mesa’s island compound near the Bahamas. And Camille had fallen into a tank of acid and met her demise after kidnapping Harper and River.

Expecting to see Camille’s name on the second headstone, she was surprised to see a different name. Monique AnnetteMercier. And a butterfly, just like the ones etched on every fireplace inside the manor, decorated her tombstone.

The same swirling butterfly associated with Papillon.

Questions swirled through her head as she pulled her phone out and hit Brax’s number.

“Quinn,” he immediately answered, and she heard the click as he put her on speaker. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but I’m outside, standing at the family gravesite, and I have a lot more questions than answers.”

“Like what?”

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