I don't know who you are," she thought, "but whoever you are, you're one hell of a player.

No, we’re not experiencing a technical malfunction,” she said, a seething fury in her voice. “What we’re experiencing, dear comrades, is an agent gone rogue.

As much as we may sometimes find it hard to breathe, we must, for if we do not, we die. And as much as we may sometimes find it hard to forgive, so, too, must we do that, or else we die as well.

How does a person deal with the fact someone possibly wanted to murder you, but killed your unsuspecting sister instead?

Ah, the ocean. Such a magnificent, mysterious puddle, isn't it, Dalton? So often, the origin of so much life. And yet, at other times, the cause of so much death, as well.

Moments later, as the specter exited through the window it had entered, Victor Xerxes Valenzuela once again found himself floating out at sea. Only this time the ocean was a viscous crimson, the sky above, a lackluster black.

I cannot say it will be a painless death. But I can say it will be a stylish one.

Let me tell you something. If you are not careful, the thrill of the ambush can become more addictive than heroin.