Chapter 127 The Confession

• He gave a small nod. “You passed.”
• They returned to the safehouse, damp with sweat and aching in every muscle. The silence between them was thick, but not cold, just the quiet of exhaustion and thought. Darren handed her a bottle of water, watching her gulp it down greedily before he set his own aside.
• “Now,” he said, going to his duffel bag. He pulled out a slim, matte-black device and set it on the table. “This…” he picked up his pistol and screwed the device onto the barrel with practiced ease “…is a suppressor. Or a silencer, if you like calling it that.”