The engines of the Gulfstream G650 were already whining, a high-pitched scream that echoed the tension vibrating in my bones. From inside the cabin, I watched Asher standing at the top of the air-stairs. He was clutching the handrail so hard the metal bit into his palm. His side was no doubt a symphony of fire, but watching him, I wondered if he was intentionally embracing the pain. Every stab was a reminder of why he was doing this. Why we were doing this.
"Everything is loaded, Boss," Marcus said, stepping onto the platform behind Asher. He was draped in tactical black, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses. "The Chicago team is on standby at Midway. We land, we hit the Vane warehouse within twenty minutes, and we don't stop until we have his head on a plate."
Marcus's words made me shiver. How easy it was for them to end a life they could never bring back. But then again, Vane had asked for this. This was nothing but self-defense.
