Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Matthew’s blood ran cold as he scowled at the screen.
“Kill. Him.”
His voice sounded like a villain in a horror film.
I like this feeling.
The man beside him—who’d yet to tell Matthew his name—spoke into his watch.
“Blacks are a go. Eliminate target.”
The warrior in front raised his firearm and aimed the business end at the leader’s forehead.
Matthew prepared for the deafening bang the bullet would make when exploding from the chamber.
Dembe Ngoimgo looked to be begging for his life as he steepled his hands in front of him.
The black-clothed cheetah left Ngoimgo suspended in anticipation of death for several torturous seconds before his partner snuck up behind Ngoimgo, gripped him under his chin, and snapped his neck with a quick jerk to the right.
Matthew didn’t even flinch, feeling numb to the brutality he’d just witnessed.
“You no longer have to worry about the woes of this life, Dr. Adams. There’ll be no prison sentence to serve, no record of you going AWOL. You’ll simply disappear without a trace.”
Now, Matthew was intrigued.
“I assume you don’t visit every patient in an institution.” Matthew exhaled a long breath. “Why me?”
Mr. Fancy Suit didn’t laugh, but he did cock up one side of his mouth.
“That’s true. You intrigued me because you have a distinguished resume, a respected career, and unwavering discipline as a combat medic. Yet you had the ability to snap when faced with such gross injustice. Despite all you had to lose, you still beat a man half to death in the name of what was decent and fair.”
I wanted him to die…still do.
“And your education, combined with your levelheaded calmness to provide medical aid on the battlefield, means you’re able to be effective in the midst of chaos.”
Matthew’s goal in life had always been to help and heal. He hadn’t known he had that kind of violence buried inside until he was given a reason to unleash it.
“When we enhance the intellect you already possess, you’ll be an invaluable asset to the Ravens organization.”
Ravens.
He’d never heard of it.
“While it’s true that a lot of people snap, they rarely do for the right reasons. Most often, it’s for selfish or ridiculous shit or a simple lack of intelligence.” The suited man closed his laptop. “Ignorant people don’t make good assassins, Dr. Adams.”
Assassin. Holy fuckin’ shit.
“And I’d just disappear, huh?” he muttered.
“Nations wouldn’t know you existed, Dr. Adams. But the impact of your actions would be felt in every corner of the world.”
This guy could sell water to a drowning man.
Matthew gave a solid nod.
“Don’t worry about repercussions when my team and I walk you out of this building because there will be no record you were ever here. It’ll be like you never existed. There one minute and gone the next…like a mirage.”
The guy pointed to the coat lying on the mattress.
Matthew put on the brown trench with the oversized hood, allowing it to swallow him whole before he followed the stranger out the door and into the vacant hall.
Where the hell is everyone?
Never mind, he didn’t care. He only wanted to know one thing.
“Who were the men in black?” he asked.
The stranger looked him in the eye and answered, “They’re the first-generation Ravens assassins. The Blacks. Code names Ex and Meridian.”
Grace
Grace walked through the steel doors of the lab like he’d done every morning for the past six weeks.
Rows of high-tech equipment and cutting-edge machinery were concealed within sterile white walls that gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights, making the air thick with the scent of metal and chemicals.
Scientists in white lab coats with faces hidden behind masks and goggles strapped him into a chair and connected tubes and wires to his chest, back, arms, and legs that snaked across the room and fed into mysterious contraptions.
Machines hummed with energy while screens flickered with complex data and schematics Grace didn’t care to understand.
He didn’t speak, was rarely social, and never smiled because he never had a reason to.
Grace was primed to be one of the greatest marksmen to come out of the United States Marines Advanced Sniper Academy.
He was good at shooting and hitting his target every time. It was just what he did. Hunting and shooting tin cans and mason jars off a fence was how he’d passed the time as a kid.
In the Corps, he’d followed orders to the letter, had received countless medals and accolades that meant nothing to him.
His own gunnery sergeant said he had a heart of darkness and eyes that viewed the world in black and white. Right or wrong.
There were no shades of gray.
His combination of anger and morality was what had attracted the attention of the Ravens.
A man in an expensive black suit with a corporate haircut and thousand-dollar wing-tipped shoes had told him it was an organization where fates were obliterated and legends were made.
The Ravens wanted to take his already strategic mind and exceptional shooting skills and enhance them into a finely sharpened tool designed for one purpose—killing in the name of justice.