Hunted By The Ones I Loved: A PMC's Reckoning

e wall, the cold br

oed in my mind, eac

a stra

flashe

k, green and cocky, nearly got us all

by his collar, savin

dn' t thanked me for

ot "coddling" him enou

said, her eyes cold. "You need

memory s

Pops Washington, an old-timer, a vete

, son," he' d mumbled, smelling

l to them, nothing more. Once you' re

. The next day, P

st in Alaska. Siberia

e politics, Sophia' s fath

early. Pops was

t new. It was a long game,

t ruthless in business, they

ty – all expendable for the

flared, a sharp remind

s betrayal meant this was the

phone, the one I kept f

name I co

a

Alex? You okay? I've been t

oarse. "All of it. Sophia... she'

end. "That bitch. Knew she

her place. Took

nty minutes. We' ll get you out, figure out a new iden

The words felt lik

anted me bro

se dog, as So

down, I was going d

f the wall, ignori

o disa