61: Brice
Brice
Macklyn wore that condescending grin, the one that said he knew more than everyone else. He wasn’t surprised to see Brice at all.
Fen sneered at Brice. He ignored her. Eve watched him with something approaching interest, as if he was a specimen worth studying. As if he wasn’t a person.
The twenty agents flooded in behind them. They took positions to the rear and sides, only came level with Brice, didn’t go any closer to the gate. They all wore black, visors covering their faces. Most had Prebens, a few Tychons, and a couple had Charons slung across their backs.
The weapons in their hands were all trained on Brice. He wasn’t going to fight his way out of this.
“Mister Carras,” Macklyn said. “So good of you to drop by. And you’ve brought a gift, I see.”
Brice clutched
