“I’m not allowing either of you to march like fools toward a man who, apparently, both of you have failed to kill on more than one occasion,” Ziva said. “So get a firmer grip on yourself, Chosen One.” “Ziva,” Mox said, chastising. But Sloane only nodded. There was something bracing about Ziva’s manner, like a slap to the face that brought her back to herself. She ran her hands through her hair and nodded again. “Okay,” she said, tugging herself free of Mox’s grip. “Let’s make a plan, then.”
