Army Of Two The Devil 39-s Cartel Xenia Page

She had been waiting. The two American contractors—Salem and Rios—stormed in like bulls, rifles up, expecting a cartel lieutenant to be cowering behind a desk. Instead, they found her: a woman in her late thirties, black tactical vest over a gray shirt, short-cropped dark hair, and eyes that had stopped feeling anything years ago.

A wall slid open.

“Your list is wrong,” she replied, voice flat as a dead sea. “El Diablo’s cartel doesn’t keep lieutenants. It keeps ghosts. And ghosts don’t have names on paper.” army of two the devil 39-s cartel xenia

“Xenia,” Rios said, lowering his rifle a fraction. “You’re not on our list.” She had been waiting

She didn’t answer. But as the sun rose over the burning border, she walked alongside them toward the extraction chopper—not as a contractor, not as a friend. A wall slid open

Salem kept his bead on her. “Then why are we here?”

She pulled the trigger. Outside, as the depot collapsed in a tower of fire and black smoke, Rios clapped her on the shoulder. “What now?”