Page 157 of Fractured Loyalties
And they bled on their way out.
Whoever’s ahead of us is either dying or baiting us.
Either way—we follow.
The blood trail threads along the seam of the corridor like a whisper. Not a pool. Not a splatter. A brush of fingers, maybe. Or knuckles. Someone crawling.
I motion for silence. Not that anyone’s been talking. But it’s instinct. A kind of muscle memory carved into the marrow.
Kinley sees it too. He moves slower now. Less certainty in his steps. Not fear—calculation. Assessing the possibility that this was staged.
The corridor banks left, narrowing again into a chamber that looks half-built. Rebar exposed along one wall. A ceiling grid dangling half-secured, swaying gently despite the stillness of the air.
That’s where I see it.
A smear. Bigger. Darker.
The stain pulls toward the corner. There’s something there. A shape. Slumped.
Mara’s hand ghosts toward my sleeve. Not touching, but close.
I draw.
The movement is silent—deliberate. My gun—a SIG Sauer pistol—clears the holster in one practiced motion, so smooth theleather barely whispers. I lift it, muzzle angled up, every sense locked in. My eyes sweep the room as I move forward, ready to take the lead.
Three steps. Five.
The shape resolves.
Not a threat.
Not alive.
But not long dead either.
A man. Blood crusted along the side of his neck and chest. Throat cut—sloppy. Not surgical. Defensive wounds on his palms, two fingers broken backward. Eyes wide open, as if they never saw what came for him.
Kinley exhales behind me. “That’s Lang.”
I turn. “You knew him.”
He nods, jaw clenched. “One of ours. Deep embed. Sent in last quarter to trace Volker’s network. He shouldn’t be here.”
Mara’s voice is low. “Then someone wanted him found.”
“Or someone wanted us to think that.”
I crouch beside the body. My gloved hand moves to the breast pocket. No ID. No tracker tag. But there’s a small scrap tucked beneath his collar. Folded.
I take it out.
Unfold it.
It’s a photo.
Old. Yellowed at the corners.
Me and Jori. Standing on the bridge in Berlin. Fifteen years ago.
