It was a peaceful morning. The kind where birds are eaten by snakes, and snakes are eaten by badgers, the jungle's version of balance.
Then balance ended with a knock.
An unwanted visit came in the form of a package. Or so I thought. Inside wasn't supplies or ammo. It was a girl.
Ten years old. Small. Fragile. Wearing Rosa's necklace around her neck.
There was a note tucked inside.
This girl is Tia, Rosa's niece. She has something worth killing for and she needs protection. I figured, since you loved Rosa, you would protect her — and destroy anything that tries to kill her. John, I hope you can keep the only piece of Rosa left in this world.
Good luck.
— Patrick Grace
Patrick Grace. Old British bastard. Reading his words made me want to shove an unpinned hand grenade straight down his throat.
But my eyes fell back to the girl. To Rosa's necklace. To the only piece of her that still breathed.
And in that moment, I knew my exile was over.