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However, his men assumed I was an idiot and discussed everything in front of me.
That was how I learned he was working closely with a human trafficker near the Minho River.
It was a morning like any other when the door to my quarters burst open.
There stood the Captain, gripping the doorframe, his face a mask of desperation.
"Run," he gasped. "Posie, run!"
I froze. My brain screamed at my muscles to move, but I was paralyzed.
In the next heartbeat, a bullet tore through one side of his temple and exited the other.
Blood splattered across my face.
I blinked, and the Captain collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Cyrus stepped out from the adjacent room, moving with agonizing slowness.
He kicked the body of the man who, seconds ago, had tried to save me.
His eyes were hollow, dark pits of shadow as he looked at me. He smiled.
"He was a fed. He was a cop who died trying to protect you.
"Posie... you’ve done a great service for me."
