“So here we are,” Voss said cheerfully. “Richard, step forward. Give me the piece of the code you memorized.”
My father moved like a sleepwalker, reciting a sixteen-digit alphanumeric string. Voss typed it into a ruggedized tablet on the table next to him.
“Excellent,” Voss purred. “Now, Captain Carter. The watch. Slide it over.”
“You let Lucas go first,” I countered, my mind racing. The camera. There was a red blinking light on the wall behind Voss. He was broadcasting this to his superiors.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate,” Voss sighed. “Jonah. Prove your loyalty to the network. Shoot her. Non-lethal. Just to show them you’re serious.”
Ryan screamed, “No!”
But Mercer didn’t hesitate. He shifted his aim down and pulled the trigger.
The roar of the gunshot in the enclosed space was deafening.
Searing, tearing agony ripped through my left shoulder. The force of the 9mm round spun me around, and I slammed hard into the concrete wall, sliding down to the floor. Blood instantly blossomed across the black fabric of my dress, hot and sticky.
