It was raining now.

What were the odds? Raining in DC. Raining over South America. Shannon could hear the rain, falling peacefully. Raindrops were streaking the windows in the vaulted ceiling.

They were in this large, musty room.

It was a box, basically.

And they were the test subjects. Test subjects in a box, pitted against each other, and Shannon had this strange and horrible feeling that only one of them would come out alive.

That was false, but the feeling was there nonetheless.

Shannon tried to shake it out of her mind. She wasn’t going to kill any of them. They were good people, working for the good guys. And they weren’t going to kill her because then they’d have to explain it.

But then she saw something in Paige’s eyes. She’d known him for awhile. She knew that during missions he did what it took to get the job done. She knew he was ruthless. She knew that his position in USI was only a stepping stone to greater things, that he couldn’t afford failure. His reasons were professional and personal.

“Are you going to kill me, too?” Shannon asked.

“First of all, nobody said we were going to kill Virginia.”

“Are you saying that for their benefit?” Shannon’s eyes nodded back to the field agents behind her.

“I’m saying that because it’s true.”

“I have it from a good source that she’s a priority one. Which makes me, what, a priority two? Maybe it’s not shoot-to-kill, but it might be shoot-to-kill, which is sometimes the same thing.” Shannon was being clever with her words. Black ops was a murky enterprise when it came to language and interpretation. “Am I right? You’ll go back and say it was self-defense.”

“Good, Shannon,” Virginia’s voice said in her ear. “Get the field agents to doubt Paige. Their reaction time will slow when you make a move. You’re looking for nuance in all exchanges. That’s what we deal in.”

Shannon nodded to herself. That was a good point. She hadn’t actually been doing it on purpose, but it was a good point.

The rain was pattering evenly on the ceiling. It reminded her of serene days, in her home, reading and watching movies. This was such a stark difference from those days that she wanted to cry. Her eyes misted, and she blinked twice against the urge, still squinting now against Paige’s raised flashlight.

“Just come in. We’ll ask you some questions,” Paige said, in softer tones now, perhaps noticing her eyes. “You don’t have to be implicated in Virginia’s recklessness.” A few beats. “Trust me.”

Shannon looked past Paige, at the door he’d come through. She swallowed, thinking. “Since when have you been forgiving?”

And that’s when she moved.

She lunged toward Paige at full speed. He was a bit more than five feet from her. He reached down—going for his gun. Shannon got to him in time, tackling him at full force. She wasn’t a big girl, a size six jeans. She wasn’t a skinny twig either. She had just enough force to get him onto the dusty floor.

Fight dirty.

His life or yours.

These few moments would decide Shannon’s fate.

She knew it.