Chapter Forty
Aviary fell to her knees as the operative shot the police officers in front of her, first in their torsos, then in their faces. They slumped onto the marble, skulls blasted. The tram driver watched from his cabin with an open mouth.
The operative strode for Aviary—steering wheel attached to his arm with what looked like concrete. He was ready to finish the job with another shot. The first was to slow her down, but this time he aimed for her face.
Gunshots rang out and one of his eyes disintegrated. Marina emerged, moving and firing, her shots tearing through the operative’s face. His mouth twitched and he dropped, his arm and steering wheel cracking onto the marble with a resounding echo.
Nausea twisted Aviary’s stomach. She couldn’t move from where she lay, could barely
