Chapter 217 The Masters Leave

• Rain slicked the ancient stones of Kotor’s old town, turning the narrow alleys into rivers of shadow and echo. She moved like a ghost between them—limping, breath shallow, one hand pressed hard against her side where the bullet had torn through flesh. Blood oozed between her fingers, hot and frighteningly steady.
• Right from the start, Hila Zaidi had had a gut feeling this mission could end badly. She’d felt it in her gut before she boarded the flight from Jamaica, where she’d almost been set up, before she ever set foot on Montenegrin soil. But when you’ve spent years lying, fighting, and surviving in the silence between nations, you learn to ignore the feeling. You press forward. You do the job.
• And if it involved the only family that had welcomed her with open arms, always accommodating her whims and moods, the Delanos, who loved her unconditionally, different as they were, she knew there had been no thought of going back.