11Julian
“So what’s the damage?” I ask Lucas as we leave the training area. I’m breathing hard, my muscles are sore, and my left shoulder is aching, but I feel satisfied.
I’m nearly back to my former fighting shape—as the three guards limping away can testify.
“There was another hit in France, and two more in Germany.” Lucas wipes the sweat off his face with a balled-up towel. “He’s not wasting any time.”
“I didn’t think he would.” Given Peter Sokolov’s singular focus on revenge, I know it’s only a matter of time before he eliminates the rest of the men on that list. “How did he do it this time?”
“The French guy was found floating in a river, with marks of torture and strangulation, so I’m guessing Sokolov must’ve kidnapped him first. For the Germans, one hit was a car bomb, and the o
