Death is not a peaceful slumber. For the Director of Intelligence of the Syndicate, death had been a suffocating, terrifying plunge into an endless ocean of absolute zero. There was no light, no sound, and no warmth. Only the crushing, infinite weight of the void. And then, the Sovereign had reached into the dark and pulled her back. Viper trembled violently in Arlan Mahendra’s arms as he carried her through the ruined, blood-soaked expanse of the grand hall. She was completely oblivious to the hundred mutilated mercenary corpses littering the cratered obsidian floor. She was blind to the massive mountain of rubble blocking the elevator shaft. Her entire universe had narrowed down to the agonizing, burning sensation of blood forcing its way back through her frozen, atrophied veins, and the impossible, radiant heat emanating from the bare chest pressing against her cheek. "Arlan," Viper gasped, her teeth chattering so violently she c