The funeral was over. Jim's farewell might have been the most unique funeral in the world. People marveled at his optimism and humor, and even his family's grief was softened by the joy he had left behind.
As guests offered their blessings and slowly dispersed, Sam gathered the group of old friends and approached Jim's family.
"Sophia," he said, "Jim may be gone, but he was our brother. You don't need to worry about Ivanka's schooling or your life going forward. Jim held shares in our company—we'll keep those shares intact and send you and Ivanka living expenses every month. If you ever need anything, you can contact any one of us on this list—we won't turn you away. Here, take this—these numbers belong to people who'll always have your back."
"Thank you," Sophia said, taking the note with heartfelt gratitude. "It was Jim's honor to have friends like you."
She wore a black veil. Without a job and with a daughter in school, Sophia had faced the terrifying question of what came next. But now, that burden was gone.
"Ivanka, come to your godfather," Sam called gently.
Jim's daughter ran into Sam's arms, crying.
"There, there, Ivanka… it's going to be okay. You're not alone. Take care of your mother during this time. And if you want, you two can move to Miami—we'd be happy to have you as neighbors. Whatever you need, I'm here. I'm your godfather, and now that your dad's gone, I'm your father too…"
Sam stroked her hair gently. Jim had been his closest brother in arms. He'd watched Ivanka grow up from a tiny girl into a young woman.
"Thank you, Father…"
…
With Jim's arrangements settled, the group didn't plan to stay in Sacramento long. Sam was holding it together, but he was driven. No one blamed him, but he had to find out what had really happened. Jim couldn't have died for nothing.
They would spend one more night, and then leave first thing in the morning. Jim's death had been caused by faulty intel. Whether it was a setup or just bad luck, someone would pay.
At dusk, outside the motel, Owen and Bryan went for a walk in the pasture.
This was ranch land—lush fields stretched in every direction. They watched horses gallop in the distance and Texas cowboys herding cattle back to their pens, with shepherd dogs at their heels. Bathed in golden twilight, it was all strikingly beautiful.
They walked slowly—Owen on the left, Bryan on the right.
"Bryan, I want to help with Jim's case. I owe him that," Owen said, looking ahead. "I talked to Sam, but he turned me down…"
He sounded frustrated. Jim had been his friend, had risked his life to rescue Monica in Colombia. Owen wanted to be part of Sam's vengeance. But Sam had said it was Ranger business and politely declined.
"Don't worry. I'll talk to him," Bryan replied. "He's just been putting too much pressure on himself."
Bryan's promise eased Owen's mind. If anyone could get through to Sam, it was Bryan—they were like family.
"Thanks. There's something else too. Bryan, our Omega team needs a liaison—a point of contact with outside forces. I want you for the job…"
Owen explained the role in detail, then stopped walking and looked at Bryan. Bryan didn't immediately decline. He met Owen's gaze, thought for a moment, and finally said, "Let me think about it. After we take care of Jim's business, I'll give you an answer."
Owen nodded. The fact that Bryan didn't say no outright was a good sign. It seemed his perspective had shifted over time. When they first met, Sam had invited him to join the security company, and Bryan had rejected the offer without hesitation.
If Bryan turned this down, Owen honestly didn't know who else to ask.
…
Missouri, in a rundown apartment.
Eddie Cast had just finished changing the dressing on his wound. The chill and pain from the injury kept his mind sharp. He clenched his teeth at the memory of the assassination attempt two days ago. That bitch Avril—she was like a damn bloodhound that wouldn't let go. She'd come after him more than once in the past few months.
Looking around the cramped, dingy apartment, Eddie couldn't help but feel regret. If he'd known she was this tenacious, he never would've used his brother as a human shield. Now Avril was insane. She didn't care about anything else—just chasing him across the globe. Not even hiding in the U.S. was enough.
The CIA were a bunch of useless cowards, Eddie seethed. He didn't know Avril's exact identity, but he did know she was a rogue CIA operative. He'd assumed she wouldn't dare make a move on U.S. soil, but this lunatic didn't care at all. And the CIA? They'd been warned and still couldn't catch her.
He felt another surge of anger. He desperately wanted a drink, but the pain from his wound told him that was a bad idea. He pulled the clip from his pistol—empty. He didn't even have a functional weapon. The only gun he had left didn't have a single round in it.
Lighting a cigarette, he took a drag and exhaled a long stream of smoke. But as he did, his eyes narrowed to slits.
There was movement in the light under the door.
The shadows shifted slowly. Someone was right outside. The lock clicked softly. A few seconds later, there was a faint "click," and the old door swung open.
It opened in silence. A silenced pistol appeared first, followed by a shadow that slowly entered the room. It was Avril.
She crept in, one hand on the pistol, the other bracing the doorframe. She made no sound. The apartment was a one-bedroom layout, the bedroom door open but empty from her vantage point.
Avril took a deep breath and wrinkled her nose. The air smelled foul—stale sweat mixed with cigarette smoke. Then she spotted the still-burning cigarette on the coffee table.
Her heart skipped. She was about to react when a figure lunged at her from the side wall, a cleaver slashing toward her gun hand. She didn't have time to aim or fire—she swung the pistol instead, parrying the cleaver with a loud clang of metal.
Bang! A wild shot hit the wall. The pistol flew from her hand, and Eddie kicked it across the floor. But Avril seized his wrist in a flash, twisted sideways, and locked his arm. Eddie hadn't expected her reaction to be so fast. The cleaver dropped from his hand just before it could fall to the floor—Avril kicked it away, and it thudded into the wall with a metallic hum, vibrating from the impact.
______
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