Elvis hopped down onto a stool and jumped onto the floor beside her with his gun in hand at his side. “Why don’t you hand over your phone? Let’s see how much your buddy would pay for your life?”
Putting her hand in her purse that hung on a long strap across her body, she took out her phone and he opened a palm to accept it. But there was no way she was handing over Kindred tech.
“Treason terminate,” she said in a clear, concise tone, just as Tuck had taught her.
The voice command made the phone spark and fizzle, destroying itself. Just for good measure, she dropped it onto the floor and smashed it with her heel. Training the innovative system to recognize her voice had taken time, but it learned her signature and she was glad she’d spent the time doing what Tuck told her.
Elvis’s angry
