Chapter 12 - The Woman Wearing Kincaid’s Face
The woman beside us was not Sarah Kincaid.
Not anymore.
Facial reconstruction.
Weight change.
Hair.
Posture.
Years of preparation.
But no surgery can perfectly reproduce habits.
I had noticed small discrepancies all day and blamed age.
She held a weapon before any of us moved.
Ward stared at her.
“Who are you?”
She smiled.
“Nadia knows.”
Nadia’s face changed.
“Miriam.”
The name came from Blackridge’s oldest enemy file.
Miriam Vale.
Nadia’s younger sister.
Officially killed during a raid seventeen years ago.
Another dead person.
At this point, death had become the least reliable fact in my life.
Miriam had been recruited by the same private intelligence network Nadia abandoned.
When Nadia cooperated with Blackridge, Miriam saw it as betrayal.
She spent years building herself into someone capable of entering our sealed systems.
Then real Sarah Kincaid disappeared eight months ago.
Miriam replaced her.
“What do you want?”
“The archive.”
“For revenge?”
She almost looked offended.
“Revenge is emotional.”
“People who say that are usually very emotional.”
Ward smiled despite himself.
Miriam’s eyes sharpened.
The archive contained identities of covert assets, government buyers, private brokers and shell companies worth billions.
Not history.
Currency.
She could sell access to governments, cartels, corporations.
Warren had been a broker.
Miriam wanted to become the market.
“Lily?”
“Safe.”
“For now.”
I stepped closer.
She raised the gun.
“Major.”
There was almost admiration in her voice.
“You know what I find disappointing?”
“What?”
“Marcus.”
He blinked.
She continued.
“I arranged the barbecue.”
Silence.
Rachel looked at her.
“You?”
“The letters. The veterans’ story. The duffel bag in Warren’s garage.”
Marcus’s humiliation challenge had been anticipated.
Not ordered.
That distinction mattered.
Miriam knew his personality.
His insecurity.
His need to perform in front of Warren.
She created a stage and predicted what he would do.
He did the rest voluntarily.
“You knew he’d attack me?”
“I suspected.”
Marcus looked sick.
Miriam smiled.
“He was wonderfully predictable.”
I looked at him.
He could not blame mind control.
No one forced him to threaten me.
Manipulation reveals character as often as it controls it.
Miriam backed toward the archive.
“Open it.”
“No.”
“Then Lily stays with my people.”
Rachel whispered:
“I gave her my niece.”
“Yes.”
Miriam looked at her almost kindly.
“You gave me exactly what jealousy made you willing to give.”
Rachel broke.
Not theatrically.
Silently.
The gun trembled in Miriam’s hand.
Ward noticed.
So did I.
A second later, Marcus charged.
Not smart.
Not tactical.
But enough.
The gun fired.
Ward moved.
Nadia screamed.
And when I reached the floor, Marcus was staring at me in shock.
May you like
Blood spreading across his shirt.
He had taken the bullet meant for me.
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