“Stay focused, Mac. Keep your eyes on the prize.” “What the bloody hell is the prize?” “We work together. Take back our world. We all win.” “What are you, Ryodan?” He laughed. “What are the nine of you?” I pressed. He said nothing. “I’m going to call it,” I threatened. “‘Bye now.” I didn’t hang up. He stopped laughing. “I’ll kill you myself, Mac.” “No, you won’t.” “Woman,” he said, and his voice was suddenly so hard and cold and ancient-sounding that the fine hair at the nape of my neck lifted and prickled all the way down my spine, “you don’t know the first thing about me. The Mac that would
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