The torrential rain had transformed the dense mountain forests of Bogor into a dark, suffocating wall of green and mud. Fifty miles south of Jakarta's concrete jungle, the air was cold, heavy with the scent of pine, wet earth, and impending bloodshed.
A massive, iron-gated colonial estate sat secluded deep within the valley. Golden light spilled from its grand floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the armed mercenaries patrolling the gravel drive.
Inside the rear passenger compartment of an armored black SUV parked a quarter-mile down the winding mountain pass, silence reigned.
I sat between Damian and Kaelen.
Gone was my office attire. I wore a fitted black tactical turtleneck, cargo pants, and leather combat boots. My dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid. On my lap rested a
