Chapter Eleven
Sophia found the recreation deck empty except for DC nursing a plastic cup at a table at the far end. She walked in and sat opposite him, expecting him to leave or ask her to leave. Instead, he held her gaze with a seriousness and clarity she hadn’t seen before. His pupils were pinpoints.
‘You’ve returned for more war stories?’ he said.
‘I’ve heard enough war stories.’
He nodded, staring into his cup with distaste. ‘I’m pretty sure this isn’t coffee.’ He drank it in slow, measured gulps, then reached for a hip flask and refilled. He offered the flask to her. ‘Polish vodka. Straight from the engine room.’
Sophia declined. ‘You didn’t tell me exactly how you know about Project Seraphim.’
DC sipped the vodka straight, winced. ‘I plan to keep it that way.’
Sophia took the
