Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force) by S Anderson Page B

Recruit.”
    “I will, sir.”
    General Zolkov squats in front of me. I’ve only known him for two weeks, but I’ve already decided I hate him—hate him so much I have to prove him wrong.
    His eyes are so dark I don’t know if he has pupils. Maybe he’s like an eagle. Maybe his entire eye is a pupil, open and sharp. Maybe that’s why I can’t get away with taking one second to catch my breath.
    He sees everything.
    “You bet your ass you will,” he says, grabbing me without warning.
    I’m thrust back into the freezing Hell. Despite what I just told him, I want to give up. I want to close my eyes and just let the darkness take me.
    I tell that voice inside my head to shut up. I can see his smug expression through the water. It’s distorted by the ripples my struggling causes. I want nothing more in that moment than to rise up and drag him under. To be strong enough to hold him down instead.
    I’m not going to give up.
    I’m going to prove I’ve got what it takes.
    I’ll be goddamned if I let General Zolkov be the man who kills me.
     
     
     

3
     
     
    “Can you tell me your name?”
    “Penelope,” I say. It hurts to talk. My lungs burn, preventing me from taking a full breath. I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.
    Bright light shines in my eyes.
    “Can you tell me where you were tonight?”
    “No.”
    I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what’s happening.
    “You were in a car accident.”
    My own scream fills my fuzzy mind as memories flash before my eyes. “Marko—”
    “That’s right,” the voice says. “You were with Marko Veltriv. You were in a car accident.”
    “Attack,” I say. Too many words are in my brain, and my mouth doesn’t seem to understand how to speak them.
    “Conserve your energy, Penelope. You’re alright. Just some bumps and bruises. A few broken bones, but you’ll be fine.”
    “Marko,” I say again. I feel like I’m playing some twisted childish game. I keep calling 'Marko' but no one is saying 'Polo'. “Where is he?”
    “He’s in surgery right now.”
    Surgery? Why? What's wrong with him?
    I have so many questions, but all of a sudden, my lips are too heavy. My body floats away from me.
    Recruit Vincent, do you think sleeping is going to keep you safe from an attack? Because it won’t.
    I startle awake. The whole world is a throbbing ache that pulses from my skin. I was dreaming of Nikolai, of the first days of my training. He was such a bastard back then.
    He was still a bastard later. He was just my bastard then.
    “What did I tell ya? I think she truly loves me.”
    Laughter draws my attention to the left side of the bed. A knife twirls in the air.
    Claymore. He smirks at me. “Good to see you awake, lass.”
    A haughty huff from the right side of the bed pulls my eyes too quickly in that direction. “She’s only awake because I kissed her,” Ace says.
    “Great, I'm surrounded by Dopey and Happy," I mumble. "This is the worst reproduction of Snow White ever.”
    “You should have been awake an hour ago,” a third voice says nearby. I fumble around for the controls and sit my bed up. A tall, thin blonde woman with a sharp chin and tiny nose stands there. Countess, our Russian operative. “They were playing poker on your chest.”
    Her accent gives her a deeper voice than one would expect from such a tiny frame. Her lips pinch together as she surveys me.
    “As long as they were playing a card game and not literally poking my tits, I’m all good,” I say.
    Countess sighs. She’s like some royal cat with how she slinks closer to the bed. She has no patience for my sense of humor—or for me, really.
    I’m frankly surprised she’s here.
    “Do not look like I am apparition floating in air,” she says. “I am who received distress signal and notified Moe and Curly.”
    Ace sits on the edge of my bed, mock whispering, “She was in tears when she called us. All torn up that the only other chick in the bunch would be