The war room was massive. A large oval conference table made of a dark, dark wood engulfed the area. Monitors hung on three of the walls. Consoles built into the table’s surface every few seats woke when she synced her computer to the network. Vi had installed HERA to The Arsenal system but waited on upgrading or reprogramming anything until Mary got a chance to peruse the current systems.

Trusting Dylan and his brothers with the program they’d protected so fiercely was difficult, but necessary. Keeping HERA in the shadows hadn’t worked. If the program was operational, it could help protect itself. Besides, she’d spent months vetting the Masons. They were honorable. Trustworthy. Assuming trust was possible after what she’d endured.

We can’t do this alone, Mary. We need them. Give them a chance. Her best friend’s words from a few days ago echoed when doubt crept forward. She was right, as always. This was bigger than she and Vi could tackle alone. 

Vi sat across the table from her, eyes wide as men filed in and took seats along the back wall. Two rows of seats spanned the entirety of three walls. Capacity, best she could guess, was about a hundred as long as people didn’t mind getting real friendly. And this was the “small” room. Dylan mentioned a larger war room across the hall.

Mary didn’t ever want to handle an op that required the larger room. Talk about an all-out war.  Marshall sat at the end, with his five brothers flanking both sides. Dylan hadn’t tried sitting next to her, as if sensing she needed to separate herself from everyone a few moments and go over everything in her head.

Addy joined several others in a tight huddle near the door, their claustrophobia no doubt kicking in. Were it not for Vi’s familiar face across the way and the squeeze ball she’d snagged earlier, Mary would be a mess. She hated crowds, confined spaces. Anything remotely interactive with breathing people, really. Bree said she would’ve made an excellent mortician.

“Okay, let’s get started.” Marshall’s voice boomed easily in the room.

The dull roar of the gathered group died, settling into a tense calm. Though most of the clustered men—all former military badasses from assorted spec ops groups—didn’t know what was going on; the dark glower of the six men at the head of the huge table left little doubt this was serious business.

The curious looks and intense stares of most signaled they’d figured out it somehow involved her and Vi. She sat, focused and alert, as Marshall summarized the past few weeks, what they’d learned of the Hive debacle and requisite search for Driggs and his compatriots—more than a quarter of the Hive operatives from what she and Vi had gathered before her capture.

“So far, he’s remained underground, leaving operatives stranded in missions since the headquarters have been closed down and all office personnel fired. This occurred the day after Edge’s rescue.” Marshall’s statement turned the room into live wires. “Addy Rugers has done what she can, but she’s legally limited on what she can do for the next few weeks.”

Murmured outrage echoed around her, instilling her with confidence that the first phase of her idea would go over well with the gathered group. Dylan and his brothers had expanded The Arsenal slowly, vetting every applicant with such intense scrutiny only the best survived.

Impressing one Mason was virtually impossible. Gaining acceptance from all six took a special operative—a damn good one worthy of being an Arsenal asset. Or so Mary had heard from everyone who’d come and visited her the past few days. Personnel records told another, somewhat troubling, story.

Gage Sanderson had become a regular drop by. The quiet man was what she and Vi termed a ninja warrior, a soldier so adept in the field he excelled in everything. Very few earned the designation, but what she’d seen of his record—because she was bored and studied all The Arsenal employees—he was a high contender for the title. He sat beside her, his gaze assessing her and Vi, rather than Marshall.

“The floor’s yours, Edge.”

“I’m Edge. Across from me is my partner, Quillery. Up until recently, we worked at Hive, assisting with operations and doing what we could to ensure successful missions. Marshall read you in on what’s happened the past several days, but he didn’t tell you why. We’ve gathered evidence proving Martin Driggs, and more than a quarter of the operatives he employs, are dirty.” Mary let her voice rise. “I intend to take them down. Hard.”

A few people shifted. No one refuted her claim. Dylan’s jaw twitched, but his brothers all grinned. She took a deep breath and dove in.

“So far we’ve held back, put out some feelers with other operations, and flown under the radar while we quietly swept a few known hideouts for Driggs.” She settled her gaze on Vi. “Those wasted couple of weeks gave Driggs a false sense of security and time for me to heal. But it’s time we start the real fight.”

She nodded, and Vi activated the feed. Images of Driggs filled the screen, but Vi flipped to the next image, a world map. “The first and most critical phase is asset protection and recovery. Driggs left many in the lurch, essentially leaving every open book contract Hive had in jeopardy. Addison Rugers is working with a legal team to secure his portion of Hive. Until then, she, Quillery, and I are going to establish a base of operations here at The Arsenal for the burned operatives in the field. We’re bringing them all home, safely.”

“Asshat Driggs tried dumping Hive’s operational funds into his own Cayman account, but Edge and I locked it down a couple months ago to prevent such a move. We should have enough funding to securely finalize current Hive operations.” Vi pushed a button.

Color-coded dots appeared on the map.

“What you’re seeing now are the current operations and the situation levels Quillery and I have classified them at, based on last contact. As you see, most are somewhat secure and are, therefore, in green. Others are questionable, primarily because last contact was more than three weeks, and they’re not in a location where we can simply phone them.” Mary waited for the few chuckles to die off, since the yellow dots were all in deserts or jungles. The men had likely been there, done that, and had a trunk full of T-shirts. “Those are the yellow dots you see here. Marshall and Dylan have coordinated with us, so some of you may be sent out in the field to retrieve these assets.”

Mary’s gut twisted as her gaze swept around the room. “Quillery deferred that decision to me. I won’t risk any of you unless the asset at risk has been fully vetted as trustworthy by me. I won’t put anyone’s neck on the line to drag in one of Driggs’s cronies.”

“Edge and I went over the ops and the personnel files yesterday. We’re both confident the assets we’ve flagged here are not Driggs’s asshats, but Edge wants one more round with them today. These were all long-running ops, so there is no rush to secure.” Vi moved to the next image, the map with red dots.

“Two critical missions went live the day of my abduction. Both are high-value targets with extremely credible operatives.” Mary’s heart banged hard. “One of them entered the operational theater early yesterday morning, and Quillery established contact. The other one should do so within the next few hours. While Quill and I anticipate completing the missions without issue, we may need a secondary team to enter the op and assist.”

“While Quillery and Edge are at The Arsenal—which I hope will be a permanent settlement—they are in full control of back office operations. They will be your eyes, ears, and brains from here on out. Cord is gladly turning the helm over so he can assume a more active leadership role in the field, where he’s best suited.” Marshall glanced at Mary and Vi both. “We’re lucky to have them and will protect them from here on out. They’re Arsenal.”

Voices thundered in a deafening military-like call they’d clearly created. Mary’s insides burned beneath the protective sentiment radiating from everyone around her. It was almost overwhelming. She took a deep breath, though, and forged onward.

“Once we secure the red-flagged assets, we enter phase two of my plan to take down Driggs. This is where things get a bit sticky, but I’m kind of known for sticky.”

A couple people chuckled, cluing her in to the fact they knew who she was. Confidence strengthened her voice. As Edge, she commanded respect. She mattered.

“This phase is aggressive and in three parts. Each one is an in-your-face, ball-breaking throat punch for Martin Driggs and every dirty Hive operative behind him. First and foremost, we let everyone know Quillery and I are at The Arsenal. If a team needs or wants the Quillery Edge for an op, they come here. Quillery completed that phase before this meeting started.”

Dylan and his brothers tensed at the end of the table. Yep, she probably should’ve gone over all this with them first, but she wasn’t known for seeking approval.

“Second, we’ll work closely with the Mason brothers to actively recruit Hive contractors. Many of their best assets are paid by the job and answer to no one. These are the backbone Driggs has relied on the past few months, and we’re taking them.”

“How do you know they’ll come? And are they worth a damn?” one of the men near the door called out.

“They’ll come because we tell them to. We’re only going after the ones we deem worth the effort.” Mary flashed an apologetic smile at the Mason brothers and continued. “As for whether they’re worth it, I’ll be blunt. I find more than a third of you not worth the effort.”

“And what Edge isn’t saying is most won’t work with anyone but her, or Quillery,” Addy added. “And I’d better not be in that third, or I’ll kick your ass.”

Mary chuckled. “The last prong of this phase is already underway and will be where most of you come into play. We’re warning all the Hive operatives and assets the organization is burned. We’re also sending out communication detailing why. And who.”

“What if you’re wrong?” the same man asked.

Mary was used to prickly bastards. Too many of Hive’s operatives were like the balding, over-muscled jerk. Authoritative women had zero place in his world. Anything she said would be discounted. She was a bit surprised he’d made it into The Arsenal ranks. She’d looked at the personnel records once, but clearly another perusal was in order.

She stared the man down, allowing the thickening tension in the room to grow. He swallowed and shifted his stance. An awkward, uncomfortable smile spread on his face, the kind a man made when in the crosshairs of a sniper.

“I’ve run over four hundred missions and have yet to be wrong, so I suppose I’m due. You’d better pray you aren’t around when that bill comes due, because the kind of fight I can’t pull your sorry ass out of is one no one in this room wants to be in.”

“Dan, do you have a problem with Edge and Quillery assuming command of base operations?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t see why we’re bringing them on. Things are going great as they are. This is bullshit, sir. How do you even know they’re up for the job?”

“And now we’re back to where I take over,” Marshall commented. “I skipped over some of the show and tell portion of this meeting because it’s a bit crowded. My brothers and I are tired, and I honestly didn’t think we’d hired anyone who needed to hear anything beyond the names Quillery and Edge and the fact we endorse them. But we’ll rewind and do some show and tell.”

Dan skulked backward, retreating closer to the exit. Addy blocked it with a glare.

“Sit your ass down, Hennessey,” Nolan growled. “If we’re putting Edge and Quillery through listening to this, you’re damn sure going to pay attention.”

Cord hooked his laptop up to the screens and flashed an apologetic smile at her and Vi. “Sorry, Marsh didn’t think either of you would sit through this, so he didn’t want me saying anything.”

Great. Waylaid. She and Vi had been rolled out too many times to count for the pony shows Driggs used to throw, the elaborate parties for potential clients where he walked them around and introduced them like prized trophies he’d won. He’d regale them with half-baked stories so glossed over with fake bullshit the underlying truth rotted beneath.

“Peter Rugers saved my ass too many times to count. I was green and too lost in my ego over getting into Delta to see I wasn’t ready for what that meant.” Marshall cleared his throat. “He once told me he’d met only seven people worth their weight in gold on an op. We’re lucky to be in the presence of three. And to be clear, I’m not one of them.”

He let the statement settle a moment. Peter Rugers was a legend in the paramilitary world. Loss spread through her like wildfire just thinking of him.

“Addison Rugers, the baby sister he trained himself and bragged about to anyone who’d listen took slot number five. Quillery took the third slot. He said she could take down an alien invasion with a laptop, a paper clip, and candy bar. Her name should’ve been MacGyver.”

Everyone chuckled. Vi smiled and swiped a tear from her cheek. Mary tensed. She suspected she was next.

“He told me once a couple months before he died that if he only had one person at his back he’d choose Edge. He sat in my office down the hall and spent two hours telling me why she was number one on his list. Said he’d pick her over God himself, if given the choice.”

Mary couldn’t breathe. She stared at her casted arm and waited out the silence Marshall commanded with words so thick with meaning and emotion they choked out anyone who refuted them, including her.

“I’m not putting her or Quillery through a long show and tell, but it’s important for all of you to understand why I trust them to have everyone’s back and drag you out of whatever situation you find yourselves in.” He nodded.

The screens flickered. Surveillance footage of Hive’s operational command center appeared. Gunfire blasted through the overhead speakers. The view went to a split. One half showed her and Quillery side by side at the helm while the other showed the command screen.

Peter stood behind them, silent. Focused.

“Status A76Bravo,” Quillery said.

Mary remembered the fight. It appeared in her nightmares at times, before her capture. They’d sent a team in to retrieve SEAL captives and walked straight into a trap because Driggs assured them data he received from his government source was accurate, despite what she’d suspected. This was the nail that sealed his coffin with Peter.

“Get them out!” Driggs screamed, shoving past Mary.

“Back off, blunderbuss,” Quillery hissed. “Yell later. Sit down and shut up so we can handle the bullshit your intel crapped all over our team.” 

Addy chuckled. No one else joined in. It wasn’t Vi’s finest moment. Her friend’s cheeks reddened. The message flashed across the command screen. Mary decoded the transcripted statement from the team’s leader.

Team is compromised. Four of the five members sustained injuries impeding movement. Location is critically pinned under heavy enemy fire with no sustainable weaponry. Three team members psychologically unsound for continued firefight. Loss imminent.

Driggs cursed and slammed a chair against the wall. His thundering screams echoed through the room. Peter knocked him out in one punch, then rolled him out of the way. Without a word, he nodded for them to continue.

“A76Bravo, this is Edge.”

“Fuck, it’s really over, isn’t it?”

“Now, don’t give me a complex, Cappy. You know I don’t have a strike yet, and you aren’t gonna be my first. Sheila’s about to squirt out baby number three. I’m gonna get you out of this so she’ll name it after me. You ready to do this?”

“Not seeing how,” the man whispered into the com. “My team’s dead men walking. They don’t see an out, not even with you shining the light.”

“Then I’d better use a bigger light,” Mary commented dryly as she tapped away on the computer screen and called up the local satellite images, then fanned outward. “Okay, Cappy, you’re wedged in tight, but there’s a port a mile away. We’re getting you there.”

“How? We’re penned in. It could be across the street, and we’d never make it.”

“Did I ask your opinion, Sergeant?” Mary shouted through the headset.

“No, sir.”

“Remove your headgear. Show me every inch of the room you’re in.”

The camera rattled and jumped as the man did as ordered. Mary pulled up data while she kept him occupied. Gunfire exchange rang out over the com. She muted the man’s feed and activated a second one.

“Graves.”

“Edge here. We’re hot, as expected.”

“Roger. ETA two minutes.”

“Make it one. I need you to listen closely and do exactly what I say.”

“Pretty sure I always do,” the man droned.

“Well this is gonna sound a bit nuts, even for me,” Mary replied. “Blow them up on my mark.”

Silence blanketed the room and the line as she rattled off the encoded order, then repeated.

“Roger, Edge. At location, awaiting your mark.”

“You’re mark for paint. Don’t get shot.”

“Not on my bucket list today, Edge.”

She unmuted the primary feed. “Okay, Cappy. Take the ax in the corner and open those barrels in the corner. You’re in a chemical storage area, so I need you to pay close attention. I want everyone to pour the yellow jugs on themselves. Coat every inch. Do it quick.”

Mary watched as they complied. Moments ticked by, then Graves gave the signal he was ready.

“We’re out of ammo,” someone shouted.

“That’s okay, we’re done shooting. It’s time to blow this joint. Crouch in the southwest corner of the building, fetal position with your heads against where the wall meets the flooring. Do it now and hold your breath. Do not breathe and keep your eyes closed. Do not move. Do not breathe. You hear me, Cappy? I want you to pull out all five of the heat sheets in your gear and put them on top of one another. Then pour the rest of the yellow jugs on them until they’re dripping. Then I want you to put those over you. Not one inch of skin exposed.”

The heat sheets were a state of the art creation designed to her specifications for Hive operatives. Like Mylar blankets used by the military, they had a few added qualities that helped when things went wrong.

“What the hell are you doing, Edge?”

“Getting you home to Sheila, Cappy. You ready?”

Moments ticked by as the team obeyed her orders. “I think so. Jesus, this shit stinks. What is it?”

“I’ll give you a chemistry lesson later. Right now, take a deep breath and hold it. We’re almost clear.” Mary muted their feed. “You’re go for boom.”

“Roger.”

The warehouse exploded. Visuals from Fallon’s view displayed the concussive force of his brilliance. Mary never would’ve trusted another soul with what he did.

Cheers and revelry followed by sporadic gunfire into the air filled the airway. The camera jostled.

“Please tell me I can take them out, Edge.”

“Afraid I need the team and assets secured. Next time.” Mary clicked on Cappy’s feed. “Okay, Cappy, how’s it going? I know it’s pretty hot in there right now.”

“Yeah, seeing how you blew us up,” the man muttered. “What now?”

“Graves is coming in.”

“Roger.”

Ten minutes later, Graves and Cappy both gave the all-clear as the boat headed out. Thank God, she’d had the foresight to send the demo expert in, just in case. She’d gotten her ass chewed by Driggs for that stunt.

The feed flashed to a different op, then another.

One hour later, Marshall leaned back in his chair and looked around the room. “I’d stop there, but there’s one Nolan wants y’all to see.”

The data feed crackled through the room’s surround sound system, but Mary knew which op was up. Fire flickered in Nolan’s gaze as it settled warmly on her. A single chin lift, then he focused on the displays.

“I’m getting a bit sick of your bullshit, Edge,” Nolan growled through the com.

“Then suck it up, soldier. I swear, I have a girlfriend who’d kick your pansy ass through that jungle. It’s not even nightfall yet. Move it. You aren’t getting any younger or smarter,” Mary retorted.

People around her snickered.

“How’s it going, Bravo? You haven’t turned Navy and wussed out on me yet, have you?”

“Fuck you, Edge.”

“Your whiny ass wouldn’t be up for it, Bravo. I hear you have five brothers. I bet they beat you up as a kid. There’s always one runt in the litter.”

Everyone guffawed.

“How’s the team? You checked injuries yet? I’m thinking we need to push pause on the pace, establish a camp so you can play medicine man for a while.”

“Supplies are low.”

“You’re in a forest. You’re surrounded by nothing but medicine and weapons. We’ll make you some of those, too. I hope you learned how to cook because you’ve got a job ahead of you. This is a grueling week-long trek, Bravo. You’ve gotta be more Tarzan than GI Joe out there.”

“I think we figured that out when our exfils both got blown to shit, Edge.”

“Well give the runt a prize. He has a brain after all,” Mary said.

The men gathered around her in the conference room chuckled as the feed recounted how she walked Nolan through picking foliage, climbing trees, and gathering needed stuff. Then she berated him into a reflexive rage to keep him going as he ground plants, boiled leaves, and guided his men through applying poultices and making poison darts and blow guns. They then tested out their new blow guns and hunted their food.

“Now that your men are tucked away and fed, let’s talk about the other plants I had you find.  I want you to steep a tea with them in the morning, make sure you all drink plenty. Gather water overnight like you’ve been trained.”

“What’s the tea gonna do?” he asked.

“Keep you going, Bravo. You don’t need to know anything else. It’ll likely taste like shit, but you keep everyone drinking some every morning, without fail. Make the darts every night. Reapply the poultices. Those are your standing orders if I don’t get back with you when I expect. I’m gonna lose my feed to y’all soon, so I’m gonna be real pissed if you don’t do what I told you.”

“Jesus, you sound like my sister.”

Everyone in the room laughed.

“She’s bound to be a saint to put up with your stupid ass, Bravo. Now, are you good for dark? It’ll be eleven hours, thirty minutes before satellites return, but I’ll be here working on an exit strategy, okay? We’re in this together until you and your team are secured. Just because you don’t hear me doesn’t mean I went home, put on my Snoopy jammies, and drank a bottle of wine.”

“I figured you as more of a Harry Potter girl.”

“Only on the weekends, Bravo. Hang tight, keep an eye on that gut wound. Don’t make me kick your ass for getting an infection. You won’t like my solution.” Mary paused. “You wanna hear it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Flesh-eating maggots, Bravo. Think on that until I come back.”

The room went silent as the feed stopped. Nolan leaned back in his seat, hand on his gut. A lump lodged in her throat.

“We were hot, deep in enemy territory. There was a war raging around us, two drug cartels fighting for the territory we were in. I didn’t think we’d survive the night, much less six days. We were out of bullets, too wounded to handle our knives, and staving off infection with poultices made with plants instead of real medicine. All I thought about the next few hours were maggots eating away at my gut wound.” Nolan’s voice boomed within the war room, strong and alive. “She was in my ear for a few moments each day. Any more, and the batteries would’ve died on our coms.”

Mary smiled. She’d been a total bitch.

“The brilliance of Edge’s handling of me should be in every training manual around the world. No one else, nothing else but sheer smart ass and bitchy comebacks would’ve kept me and my team going. Her giving me shit and getting in my head at every turn kept us moving. A pissed off team leader, so far in his head because of the voice on the com, kept the team fueled and battle ready even though we were falling apart.”

Nolan’s voice cut off. He cleared his throat and looked away a moment.

“Edge called in favors with the Agency, got a company copter in, piloted by someone who owed her a favor. In heavy enemy fire, he dropped in and picked them up,” Dylan added. “Now, Dan, I’ll ask you again, do you have a problem with Edge and Quillery leading office operations?”

The man paled a bit as everyone looked his direction. He crossed his arms and puffed up. “She’s not a soldier, sir. I can’t support a civilian behind my com.”

“Then you’re out,” Dylan replied.

“What?” Dan asked.

“You. Are. Out. I don’t want anyone on a team who won’t respect our decisions and those of the people we have on the com. You’re gone. Dallas, get him out of here before I lose my temper.” Dylan glanced around the room. “Anyone else?”

No one spoke.

“Dismissed,” Marshall added. “Red, blue, and orange teams prepare for wheels up in two hours. Report to my office in thirty minutes.”

Mary sat and waited for the room to empty. None of the Masons moved, even though she kind of hoped they’d file out as well. Vi smiled from across the table as Addy sat beside her.

Nolan sauntered over after the room emptied fully. Her nerves rattled like a drunken congo line. Face to face with operatives she pushed in the field sometimes got a bit awkward. She did what was necessary to get them home, even if it went over the line. Hell, she lived her life over that line. It’s why she was the Edge.

Dylan settled a hand on her shoulder from behind as she rose and faced the man she’d pulled from the jungle. He’d spent a week in hell because of idiots in a government building, but he’d survived. He smiled down at her.

“For the record, Edge, I totally rocked the Tarzan swing and the cry.” He thumped her nose with his finger and smirked. “And I still get twitchy when I see worms. You’ve ruined fishing for me.”

“I can die happy then. Nemo and Sebastian are safe.”

“Whatever you need, Mary. Anything at all, just ask,” Nolan said. “Welcome to The Arsenal.”

“Thanks.” She nodded and motioned toward the table. “I have a list of contracted assets from Hive. I’d like to review them with whoever makes decisions, recommend a few to undercut Driggs.”

“Dylan can work with you on that and whatever else you have,” Marshall replied. “He’s point on all things Hive.”