Page 28 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal

The call ended, and Mitchell remained still, staring at the city that had been both his kingdom and his prison for three decades.Atticus Cameron.The name tasted bitter in his mouth.Eight years ago, Cameron had been getting too close to Mitchell’s weapons operations, following a money trail that led directly to Mitchell’s private foundations.

Jane Cameron’s death had been necessary—a message, a distraction, a way to derail the investigation before it reached Mitchell himself.Collateral damage was unavoidable in politics.Mitchell had never lost sleep over it.

But now he wondered if he’d made a miscalculation, leaving Cameron alive.At the time, it had seemed the prudent choice.A man like Atticus, with his military background and connections, would have been missed.Questions would have been asked.Better to break him with grief, to make him focus on his injured daughter rather than vengeance.

Money had never been his primary goal.Mitchell had amassed more wealth than he could spend in three lifetimes through his various enterprises.No, what drove him was something far more intoxicating: power.The kind of power that exceeded political office or wealth—the power to shape history itself.

“Some men want to be kings,” his mentor had once told him.“Smarter men make themselves kingmakers.”Mitchell had taken that lesson to heart.The bioweapon represented the ultimate leverage—a bargaining chip that would secure his influence with governments worldwide.The profit from sales was merely a means to an end, funding his expanding network of loyalists and ensuring his continued control over international policy decisions.

The project had begun as a simple business venture—develop weaponry that could be sold to the highest bidder.But as Mitchell had watched the bioweapon take shape, he’d realized its true value wasn’t in the sales price but in what possession of such technology represented: absolute leverage over those who most craved power themselves.

“Sir,” his security chief’s voice interrupted his thoughts.“What are your orders regarding Cameron?”

Mitchell’s lips curved in a cold smile.Cameron was a complication, but not an insurmountable one.“Proceed as planned with the demonstration.I want our buyers to understand exactly what they’re bidding on.”He paused, considering the chessboard of players before him.“And deploy surveillance on his daughter as discussed.Let’s ensure Cameron understands the true price of interfering with my operations.”

After all, power wasn’t just about what you could do—it was about ensuring others knew you were willing to do it.

ChapterNine

Dynamis’s research laboratory occupied the entirety of sublevel three—a massive space divided into specialized sections that would make the CDC envious.The medical bay alone rivaled most trauma centers Sabrina had worked in, complete with surgical suite and recovery rooms.But it was the biocontainment lab that truly impressed her—cutting-edge equipment arranged with the precision of someone who understood both the science and the practical needs of researchers.

“Impressed?”Jade asked, noting Sabrina’s expression.

“Stunned might be more accurate,” Sabrina admitted, running her fingers along a state-of-the-art centrifuge.“This isn’t standard equipment for a security company.”

“Dynamis isn’t standard anything,” Jade replied, punching in a code to activate the lab systems.As her sleeve rode up, Sabrina noticed a complicated burn scar wrapping around her wrist—old, but severe enough that it must have once threatened function.The rich brown skin bore the marks of expert surgical repair, and Jade’s movements showed no hint of impairment as she deftly navigated the complex security protocols.“Atticus built this place to be self-sufficient.After what happened to Jane, he was determined never to be dependent on government resources again.”

The casual reference to Atticus’s deceased wife caught Sabrina off guard.It was the first time anyone had directly acknowledged the woman whose loss had driven Atticus to create Dynamis.

“Did you know her?”Sabrina asked carefully.She moved with the controlled grace developed through years of surgical training, her body finding comfort in the familiar rhythm of preparing a lab.

Something softened in Jade’s normally stoic expression.“Jane recruited me to Dynamis.She handled personnel assessments before…” She paused, absently touching the burn scar on her wrist.“She had an uncanny ability to see through people’s defenses.She’s the reason most of us are here.”

Sabrina nodded, absorbing this information as she calibrated the mass spectrometer.The shadow of Jane Cameron hung over Dynamis—not just in Atticus’s grief, but in the very foundation of the organization.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Jade said, moving toward the door.She paused, her hand on the frame.“You should know—Atticus doesn’t bring outsiders in.Ever.If he’s trusting you with access to this facility, with this mission…” She left the implication hanging.

“I don’t think he had much choice,” Sabrina replied, pulling her hair back into a practical ponytail.“I was involved before he wanted me to be.”

Jade’s expression remained neutral, but something knowing flickered in her eyes.“Your personnel file is impressive.Former Navy lieutenant, right?”

Sabrina nodded, the mention of her military service bringing back memories she rarely discussed.“Lieutenant, Medical Corps.Six years, two deployments to active combat zones in the Middle East.”

“Combat medicine isn’t for the faint hearted,” Jade observed, absently touching the burn scar on her wrist.

“Neither is trauma surgery,” Sabrina replied.She paused, considering how much to share.These people had vetted her thoroughly; they probably knew more about her service record than she was comfortable with.“I wasn’t just patching up soldiers in a safe field hospital.Our forward surgical team operated less than three miles from active firefights.Sometimes closer.”

“You saw combat,” Jade stated rather than asked.

“More than most medical officers.”Sabrina adjusted the microscope, focusing on the work rather than the memories.“Special operations required medical personnel with additional training.I volunteered for a joint program—advanced tactical field medicine.They taught us weapons handling, extraction protocols, survival techniques.How to treat catastrophic injuries while under fire.”

“That explains your comfort with tactical situations,” Jade said.“Most civilian doctors would be falling apart by now.”

Sabrina’s mouth curved into a wry smile.“There was a particular mission in Kandahar Province—three days pinned down with a SEAL team after our extraction was compromised.Two critically wounded operators, limited supplies, and hostiles closing in.When you’ve performed emergency surgery by flashlight while someone provides covering fire, not much rattles you afterward.”

“Why’d you leave?”Jade’s directness was refreshing after years of colleagues tiptoeing around her military past.

Sabrina’s hands stilled momentarily.“The usual reasons.Wanted to do more research, advance medical protocols for trauma care.And…” she hesitated, then continued with careful neutrality, “…there was an incident.Four casualties we couldn’t save despite everything we tried.Sometimes you need a change of scenery after something like that.”

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