"Let him go, Al."
Avril's voice was calm, but to Alfred, it was a command.
He loosened his grip and rose, standing behind Avril like a knight guarding his queen.
"Did you understand what I said?"
Avril stared at the man on the floor—Castor—and asked again.
The big man seethed inside, but the situation was clear. He could take either of them one-on-one, but against both, he didn't stand a chance. And with Avril's style, disobedience meant death.
Swallowing his pride, Castor nodded reluctantly.
Avril didn't care whether he was convinced or not. What she needed was obedience.
Having dealt with Castor, she walked back to the attic door and glanced at the woman inside. She wasn't a particularly sympathetic person, but as a woman, she couldn't just stand by and watch something like that happen.
"Th-thank you…"
The woman inside had managed to compose herself somewhat. Seeing Avril appear at the door, she timidly expressed her gratitude.
Avril ignored her, closed the door, and turned away. Her intervention had been driven not just by gender, but also by strategy.
They were using the hostage to pressure her husband into building bombs. So far, he'd been cooperative. If Castor's stupidity caused resistance, it would only backfire.
When Avril came downstairs again, she found Castor questioning Zheng Anshun: "Zheng, where's Miele? What was he sent to do? Why hasn't he come back?"
Zheng said nothing. Sensing something was off, Castor raised his voice. But when he saw Avril coming down, he redirected his fury at her.
Though Castor and Alfred were both ex-Marines, they didn't get along. In contrast, Castor had been close to Miele, the Ukrainian former Golden Eagle operative.
"Miele is dead," Avril said flatly. "We ran into police during our ambush on Cruel Angel. He was caught between both sides and killed."
She lied without blinking. Castor fell silent. In their line of work, death was expected. He wasn't devastated—just disappointed.
After a pause, Avril continued, "Castor, there's still a surviving Cruel Angel member. We don't know how much he knows about our next move. I want you to find him and eliminate him. No more surprises."
"OK. I'll catch him and make him pay—for Miele."
Castor grinned, showing a mouthful of sharp white teeth, his tone laced with menace.
But Avril disagreed: "Don't overcomplicate it. Just kill him. We have more pressing matters."
"…Got it."
Castor accepted the order quietly and went to his room to pack gear.
"Sis, why didn't you send me?"
Alfred protested from behind. "I can handle it too. That guy just got his ass handed to him. He's probably still pissed off—it might affect the mission."
Avril turned and glanced at him before answering, "He's a better choice. His face hasn't been exposed. It's safer."
...
At CTU
The guard pushed open the door and led in a slim man in a suit carrying a briefcase. After escorting him to Tony, the guard left. The man extended his hand. "Alexander Conklin, CIA Special Activities Division."
Moments later, they were all seated in a conference room. Conklin pulled out a set of photographs and passed them around. Owen studied the images—there was the woman from earlier, and several others, including the burly machine gunner.
Once everyone had looked through them, Conklin spoke:
"The woman in these photos is Avril Borson. She was one of the CIA's most expensive and highly trained elite agents. I can't disclose her code name or operations, but—"
He paused.
"She possesses exceptional memory and reflexes, is an expert in intel gathering and analysis, excels in all forms of small arms and close-quarters combat. She's also skilled in interrogation, explosives, infiltration, and counter-infiltration.
In short, Avril Borson was a blade forged by the CIA at great cost. But… six months ago, she turned that blade against us. She defected—with her entire team."
A full-unit defection?
That was rare.
Owen frowned. Unlike soldiers, intelligence officers didn't defect in units. That was virtually unheard of.
"Can you tell us why?"
Tony interrupted.
"I'm sorry. The reason for Avril's defection is classified. I can't say."
Conklin refused to elaborate. Tony shrugged. Conklin continued.
"The others in the photos are members of her team. I want to know if you've seen any of them—dead or alive—besides Avril."
Owen looked at the photos again and shook his head, then pointed to one. "Other than the woman and this guy, none of the others ring a bell."
He was pointing at the machine gunner—Alfred. There was a resemblance between him and Avril.
Sure enough, Conklin said, "That's Alfred Borson. Avril's younger brother—and her only family.
He wasn't part of Avril's team. He was an active Marine. The day after Avril defected, he mysteriously disappeared during a mission.
He was one of the top heavy weapons specialists in the Corps. His only 'flaw' was that he refused to tolerate anyone disrespecting his sister. He even assaulted his superiors over it—more than once.
According to his CO, 'If Avril told him to assassinate the President, he'd do it without hesitation.' Because from childhood, she was his protector. In their orphanage, Avril fought tooth and nail to defend him—and became queen of the place."
The group exchanged looks—impressed. The siblings were clearly formidable, and their bond was rare and enviable. Unfortunately, both were now fugitives—wanted terrorists.
"What's the CIA's objective?"
Tony asked.
"Find them. Alive if possible. Dead if necessary."
No one was surprised by the bluntness. Conklin had flown out on a private jet just for this—clearly, something big had happened between Avril and the CIA.
"Why not issue a public warrant? That'd make them easier to find."
Chloe finally spoke.
Conklin shook his head slightly. "We can't. Their identities are too sensitive. If the public finds out… it'd be a disaster for the U.S."
The room fell silent. Everyone understood. The CIA might be America's biggest intelligence agency publicly—but behind the scenes, it had done countless dirty jobs. If even a bit of that got leaked, it'd be a PR nightmare.
"I have one more question."
Owen raised his hand. "You said she defected with her team. Where did she go? Russia? The Middle East? Europe…?"
"White Mask."
"White Mask?"
"Yes. A group called White Mask. We don't know who's in it or what they believe. We only have fragments of intel suggesting such a group exists. Beyond that—nothing."
Just as the room fell quiet, the conference door was knocked on urgently. It was Adele, one of Chloe's staff. Her expression said it all—urgent.
Tony gave her a nod. Adele entered.
"Apologies. There's a man on Line 2 claiming he has critical information. But he insists… he'll only speak with Agent Owen."
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