She was top of the class. The best of the best. And slowly, the number of students dropped. Fifty one year. Twenty the next. They βwashed outβ; a crude euphemism that everyone saw through.
But Sarah grew stronger. More capable.
More dangerous.
The perfect weapon for the program.
And the program would make sure of that.
A hundred of the smartest children, trained, honed, focused into killing machines.
Sarah was twelve when she first took a life. Thirteen when she first enjoyed it. And slowly, so slowly she didnβt notice it, the girl inside her died.
A killing machine with a razor sharp instinct.
The West had all but lost the Cold War, saved only at the eleventh hour by the Soviets collapsing in on themselves. That would never happen again. England, America, the Atlantic Powers wouldnβt let themselves fall onto the back foot again.
