“But—”
He cut me off, holding up a hand in warning. I felt my anger grow at being silenced so rudely, when suddenly I heard it—the distant sound of an engine. Solomon and Owen exchanged a look, and immediately sprang into action.
“Quinn, get Amber’s hands tied up and get the remaining gear together. Solomon, go out in front of the boulder and have your weapon out, but not pointed at them. Violet… get off the rock and get down here to help us.”
I raced to follow his orders. As much as I wanted to fight it out with him, now was not the time. I didn’t want to risk jeopardizing the mission over an ideological squabble. My own reservations didn’t matter at that moment, only Viggo did. Except that I was still unable to get the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach to go away.
I meant what I’d said to Owen—any people we had to put on an act for, especially one as demeaning as this, were people we should be steering clear of. It bothered me how matter-of-fact Owen and the others were about it, like it was just a walk in the park.
But I kept my mouth closed and began grabbing the gear. I could hear the vehicle getting closer while I worked to make sure everything was in order and accounted for. I was just pulling a bag onto my shoulders when brakes squealed.
The sound of the engine died, and Solomon gave a greeting. A deeper male voice responded, and suddenly I remembered I hadn’t taken my Deepvox pills. Shooting a glance at Owen, I took off my pack and began rummaging around in it.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
“I forgot to take the pills—if they talk to me, they’re going to know.”
Owen clenched his jaw and then nodded. “Just keep your mouth closed for as long as possible. They won’t work instantly, and they’re a little old, so I don’t know how that affects their potency.”
I grabbed the box of pills and dropped two in my hand. Pulling up my canteen, I swallowed them down and dumped everything back in the bag. Owen pushed by me with his own bag on his shoulders. I hurriedly replaced everything in my bag and pulled it on.
Running a hand over my face, I checked to make sure my goatee was still in place. It was hard to know without a mirror, so I looked over to where Quinn was passing me by with Amber in tow. I frowned at her bound hands and the rope that hung between them like a leash.
I knew I shouldn’t feel so repulsed by it—after all, Viggo had tied me up like that once. Of course, at that time, he had been angry with me, and had a hard time believing that I was being honest with him. Still, I doubted I would be able to pretend to be the prisoner for something as disturbing as this.
Amber didn’t complain though, just made a goofy face at me as she walked by. The face made me smile a little, and I pushed my complaints about the mission aside.
I was reacting too strongly—I needed to let it go.
I moved to follow, coming around the rock to take a good look at our escorts, and then froze. A man was standing before Solomon and Owen, talking with them. I didn’t recognize him, but the tattoo under his eye told me more about who we were working with than talking to him ever could.
The black triangle tattoo was the mark of the Porteque gang. The gang that had been labeled terrorists, and were the ultimate form of misogyny.
My stomach turned as my mind took me back to that cell they had held me in. To the sounds and smells in that dank hole. I had been very lucky—Viggo had drummed up a response team quickly, and thanks to the tracking bug Lee had laced my water with, they had found me before things got too bad.
But I had still killed one of them, and that made me public enemy number one to these men. If they recognized me, there would be nothing we could do to stop them from taking me again. There were sixteen men standing behind the one talking to Owen and Solomon, each with a dangerous look in their eyes, and each holding weapons.
I swallowed hard and kept my head down, waiting.
After a while, the three men finished their discussion. I watched as Owen handed something off to their leader, who tipped his hat to him, a smile breaking out on his face.
Owen motioned for us to move toward the truck, and we did. A few of the men made leering sounds toward Amber, but were careful not to touch her.
Amber kept her head held high and ignored them. I followed behind at a more sedate pace, and paused when I was next to Owen.
“These men are in the Porteque gang,” I whispered to him.
“I know, Violet. They’re giving us passage to the city.”
“I understand that, but I was taken by them once. I killed one of their men. If they know it’s me, then…”
I trailed off at Owen’s glare. “Be polite and keep your head down,” he ordered. “I promise… we’ll get through this.”