"No. No, no no no no no." Her eyes flew open, the pupils blown.
The agent gasped, clawing at her chest with curled hands, her skin seeming to constrict around her throat as she panicked.
She couldn't breathe.
The Dirt Massacre had been a bloodbath.
More than half of her team had been slaughtered.
And Margaret Golth had refused to help.
Forgiveness would not come easily.
Death had a way of forcing hatred into bloom.