The heavy, metallic click of a 9mm magazine sliding into place echoed sharply in the quiet study.Killian stood behind his massive oak desk, his face an unreadable, hardened mask. The dark blood from the bathroom was gone, replaced by a fresh black tactical shirt and dark trousers. He ejected a round, checked the chamber, and slapped the magazine back into the grip, setting the weapon down on the polished wood. Next to it lay two extra magazines and a heavy tactical blade.The door to the study opened. Marco stepped inside, quietly shutting the heavy oak door behind him. He looked at the weapons laid out on the desk, his expression tightening into a grim line."The jet is prepped on the private airstrip, Pakhan," Marco said smoothly. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, shifting his weight. "Are you sure you want to go yourself? I can take a team."Killian didn't look up. He picked up the spare magazines, sliding them into his tactical vest. "I am going."Marco stepped further int
Magbasa pa