The warehouse resonated with the sound of receding footfall as Avery and her crew scattered, each assigned with a key part in their plan to fight the Puppet Master's coming move. Avery stayed behind, her thoughts racing with the weight of her choice. The cold metal of her phone pushed against her hand, the cryptic message still blazing on the screen.
As she tried to pocket the gadget, a glimpse of movement grabbed her sight. Instinct took control, and Avery slid into a defensive stance, her body tensing for action.
"Well, well," a strangely familiar voice drawled from the shadows. "The little sparrow has grown talons."
Avery's blood ran cold. That voice. It couldn't be.
A person walked into the low light, and Avery felt her world shift on its axis. Nikolai Volkov, her old mentor in the assassin's gang, appeared before her. His face, once lovely, was now a collection of scars. His eyes, cold as Siberian ice, drilled into her.
