Chapter 20

Darius's POV

The documents on my desk are outrageous. Zain must've made them look even worse. My nose wrinkles in annoyance as I skim through images of young women, shipped off from who knows where, doing whatever they're commanded.

I take a deep breath and flip the pictures over, focusing on the typed text on the first A4 sheet beneath the photos.

Name:Gerald Tyson.

Occupation: Priest and Smuggler.

I wince at the inscription, especially when I think of Frank. If I were God, I'd strike these men down as a lesson to those learning at their feet.

Gerald Tyson. His name doesn't ring any bells, which only irritates me further. I continue reading and come across something that makes me groan in mental agony.

Weakness: Innocent young girls.

Zain must have chosen those words carefully, manipulating the situation to his advantage. What a cunning man. But I'm not sending Allison there—no way. And even if I had considered it before, after the miracle she performed for my daughter, it's out of the question.

But Zain doesn't know about the miracle.

I glance at another phrase, this one quoted and typed in capital letters: "HE HAS A HUGE THING FOR REDHEADS." Now, I want to kill both Gerald and my brother.

I toss the file to the edge of my desk, having no intention of continuing to read such vile observations. A small smile touches my lips as my eyes land on the red file beneath Gerald's blue one. This red file holds the profiles of my experienced girls, and it's from here that I'll choose the perfect candidate for Gerald.

I open the red file, my eyes tracing over the photos of the five women laid out before me. Each of them is stunning, distinct—a masterpiece crafted to embody a different ideal of perfection. But it's their eyes that stop me cold, the hardness in their gaze, the caution that speaks of lives lived on the edge. These women aren't just operatives—they're weapons, forged in fire and tempered by blood.

The first is 0034. Her auburn hair frames a face that could have been carved from stone, her hazel eyes sharp and unyielding. She's a sniper, her aim so precise it's almost supernatural. She's taken out targets from miles away, shifting the tides of entire conflicts with a single shot. But she's distant, detached. Put her in a close-quarters situation, and that icy calm might crack. She's all about precision, and up close, she's vulnerable.

Next is 0016. Tall, with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through you. She's the infiltrator, a master of disguise who can blend into any culture, speak any language. 0016 has walked through the corridors of power, stolen secrets from the most guarded minds, and vanished without a trace. But her confidence is her Achilles' heel—she believes she's untouchable, and that arrogance could be her downfall.

0052 is impossible to ignore, with her caramel skin and dark eyes that hold a cold, calculating gleam. She's the demolitions expert, a genius with explosives who can turn anything into a weapon of mass destruction. Her mind is a labyrinth of detonators and chemical reactions, responsible for some of the most devastating attacks we've ever executed. But she's volatile, her temper as explosive as the devices she crafts. When her emotions take over, she's unpredictable, dangerous even to her own team.

Then there's 0071, the seductress. Silky brown hair, soft brown eyes that could convince anyone of her innocence. But her beauty is a weapon, one she wields with devastating effect. She's the one who gets close, who makes men and women alike believe they're special, just before she destroys them. Her charm is her shield, her smile a dagger. But she relies too heavily on that beauty, on her ability to manipulate. If someone sees through her facade, she falters. That's her weakness—her beauty is a crutch, and without it, she's vulnerable.

Finally, there's 0079. Her big brown eyes and caramel skin are disarmingly innocent, her face so youthful it borders on angelic. But she's not new, just less seasoned than the others. She's a psychological master, capable of twisting a person's mind until they don't know up from down. Her disarming appearance is her greatest asset—people underestimate her, and that's when she strikes. But she's still learning. Yet is much more experienced than Allison could ever be—but sending her against Gerald is a risk. She is definitely not ready for somebody like him, none of my girls are ready for someone like him.

I close the file, my heart pounding. This is it. These women are the best we have. But I can't send Allison. She's too raw, too...special. She's not like them. And yet, I can't shake the fear gnawing at me, telling me that no matter who I send, it's all going to go wrong. Gerald isn't just any target—he's a predator, one who sniffs out weakness like blood in the water, and now he has it out for me.

I grab the phone, dialing Zain's number with trembling hands. I know what I'm about to say, and I know what it means. But I can't lose Allison—not to Gerald, not to anyone.

Zain picks up on the second ring, his voice tentative, respectful. "Brother."

"I'm sending 0079," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "She's the best option we have."

There's a pause, and when Zain speaks again, his tone is careful, almost too careful. "I get that, Darius. I do. But... maybe we should consider Allison instead."

"What? Are you mad?" I freeze, the words hanging in the air like a death sentence. "Zain, she's not in the file for a reason. She's a fucking baby!"

"She... she's tougher than she seems," Zain begins, his tone measured, cautious. "You remember how she fought when we first tried to take her. She's got skills, Darius. Skills her mother taught her—a bodyguard's training. She's not as helpless as she looks."

I scoff bitterly. "She's not like them!" I snap, the frustration boiling over. I start pacing the room, trying to burn off the panic rising in my chest. "You can't seriously think she can handle Gerald. He'll see right through her. She wouldn't know what to do. She'll be discovered as soon as Zain lays eyes on her."

"I know she's not like the others," Zain says quickly, his voice gentle, almost placating. "But that's exactly why she might work. Gerald won't expect someone like her. He won't see her coming. 0079 is good, but she's predictable. Allison... Allison is different. She has potential."

"Potential?" I almost laugh, but it comes out as a strangled sound, a mix of anger and fear. "Potential isn't going to save her when Gerald decides she's a threat. She's not ready for this, Zain. You know that."

Zain's silence stretches for a moment, and when he speaks again, there's a softness in his voice, a note of something almost like regret. "Darius, I'm not saying this lightly. And I really don't know why you are protecting her. But we can't ignore the debt... her father's debt. Sixty-five million dollars is a lot of money. This could be a way to settle it. A very effective way."

The words slam into me like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from my lungs. The debt—that shadow looming over Allison—has just become a noose around her neck. I've called her a debt so many times, but hearing it spoken aloud from another person, hearing Zain reduce her to a transaction—it's too much.

"She's not a pawn, Zain." I say, my voice low, trembling with barely contained rage. "She's not just some tool we can use and discard. She's—"

"She's sixty-five million dollars brother." Zain finishes softly, almost sympathetically. "This Gerald guy will cost you more millions if you send any other person apart from Allison. We have to be practical. This isn't just about what we want. It's about what we need to do. Fine, what if we train her, then send 0079 with her, you know, to keep an eye on her."

I can hear the manipulation in his voice, the careful way he's trying to steer me, but I'm too angry, too torn to call him out on it. Because deep down, I know he's right. Sending her with an experienced girl is not a bad idea either, yet the idea doesn't stop the churning in my stomach.

Without thinking, I slam the phone down, the sound of the call disconnecting ringing in my ears like a gunshot.

For a moment, the room is silent, the only sound my ragged breathing as I try to pull myself together. But Zain's words keep echoing in my mind, refusing to let go.

He's right, and that's what terrifies me. I hate it, but I know.

Allison isn't like the others. She's raw, unrefined. But she's also not helpless. She fought when we first took her, surprised even our best men. There's something in her—a fire, a will to survive. But she's not ready for someone like Gerald. He'll play with her, break her, and when he's done, he'll discard her like all the others.

And yet, the debt... sixty-five million dollars. A debt that's too large for anything but blood to settle.

If I send her, she pays it. But at what cost?

I sink into the chair, my head in my hands, the cold reality pressing down on me. There's no good choice here, no way out that doesn't end in disaster.

"I'm so fucked..." I let my voice trail into depression.

Allison is a risk. A gamble that could save us or destroy her. Yet I know that if I want to save my empire, if I want to protect everything the Hunters have built, I have to send her. I have to let her pay that debt, even if it costs her more than money—costs her everything.

The thought lingers, gnawing at my mind, even as I reach for the phone again, my hand trembling as I dial the number that will set everything into motion.

"Hi Thessa. Take Allison to training." The words leaves my lips like a prosecution, sentencing Allison to the guillotine.