Chapter 59
CHAPTER 59 — THE MERCENARY BRIDE
The door to the medical suite opened fully, and a woman stepped into the light, flanked by four heavily armed Thai private security guards.
It was Victoria Lane.
She no longer wore the tailored power suits or the pristine engagement dresses. She was dressed in dark, utilitarian tactical gear, a deep, jagged scar running from her right eye down to her jawline—the souvenir she had kept from the shootout at the Whitmore mansion three months ago.
"Victoria," Claire hissed, her hand instinctively looking for a weapon on the nightstand.
"Save your energy, Claire," Victoria Lane said, tossing a heavy, encrypted military satellite phone onto the bed. "My father died in that tunnel in New York. My family fortune was completely liquidated by the feds. I have nothing left but a burning desire to watch Victoria Whitmore bleed."
Alexander stared at his former fiancé. "You're working for the Vanguard survivors?"
"I’m working for myself," Victoria Lane countered, her eyes flashing with a cold, vengeful light. "But right now, our interests align. Victoria Whitmore has consolidated all her assets at the Elysium Enclave—a private, floating laboratory anchored in international waters forty miles off the coast of Cambodia. The security detail is Instance Three and an army of clones. You want your daughter. I want the head of the woman who used my family as human shields."
May you like
Claire stood up, her bare feet hitting the cold floor, her eyes locking onto the satellite phone. "How do we get inside?"
Victoria Lane smiled—a brutal, scarred expression that held no warmth. "We don't get inside. We let them invite us. Look at the screen."
