I had opted for a pulling technique on my own, my arms straining as I tried to force myself into the suit as quickly as possible. “I feel bad for him,” I grunted.
“Really? Why?”
“Because… well… c’mon. Y’know, right?”
Amber blinked at me, her eyes wide and empty. “What are you talking about?”
I started sliding my arms into the padded sleeves. “You mean you had no idea he was a beta?” I asked, unable to keep the thread of amazement out of my voice.
Amber stared at me, her face reflecting her inner confusion. I resisted the urge to laugh in her face—it would be rude, and probably make her feel like I was Matronizing her. After a moment, her face turned contemplative, and her eyes lit up as realization set in.
“Holy cow!” she shouted, her voice a smidge too loud in my ears.
“Calm down,” I said, shushing her. I had managed to get the padding on, as well as the slacks. I was buttoning up my shirt when she pushed my hands aside and fastened them for me. “He’s just a person, like anyone else. Besides… who knows what he’s been through.”
Amber frowned as her nimble fingers did up the buttons. “Yeah…” she breathed, her voice small. “No wonder he hates people.”
I didn’t respond to that, because I didn’t know how. A part of me didn’t think Thomas hated people. If anything, I thought he craved more time around people. Just people who didn’t hurt him. I didn’t have any evidence to support it, just that look in his eye when he looked at Owen. A deep yearning to connect with someone—anyone—if only for a moment.
Owen rapped on the door, reminding us of the time, and we rushed to finish getting ready, the conversation forgotten for the moment.
10
Violet
The van rumbled to a halt and I leapt into action, handing out equipment. Owen squeezed between the two seats up front and squatted in the middle of the van floor. I handed him his gun, which he systematically checked. The five of us began reviewing our gear in absolute silence.
The excitement I had been feeling before we left slowly drained in the long van ride, leaving a nervous tension that seemed to wrap around my spine and spread into my shoulders and neck. There was so much riding on this mission, it was impossible to not feel nervous. Dozens of scenarios ran through my head of every possible way things could go wrong, and it took every ounce of my willpower to set them aside and keep my focus on the task ahead.
My mind produced an image of Viggo’s face and I drew a deep breath, using the lines of his smile and the peculiar color of his green eyes to anchor me. I would look at those eyes again. He would smile at me again. I would feel his breath on my face as he leaned close to kiss me.
I slapped the magazine into the gun and opened my eyes, feeling steady and sure.
Nothing was going to keep me from saving him.
Everyone looked at me expectantly, and I nodded. I’m ready, I subvocalized.
Good, came Owen’s reply. Solomon slid open the side door and one by one we exited the van. We had parked next to a hill that overlooked the target—we were planning on approaching a kilometer to the southwest, and then fall back to the van in groups of two and three.
I’m going to be killing the power in five minutes, came Thomas’ voice. Get into position.
Owen raised his hand to motion us forward, and we followed him. He was in front, flanked by Solomon and Quinn, and followed by Amber and me. We had shed our costumes shortly after leaving the busy streets of the city. It was inconvenient, the constant changing in and out of disguises, but once again, I understood the reasons—being spotted in the short trip between the exit of the sewers and getting into the van was still too risky. However, shedding all of that stuff in a moving van was no picnic either.
We crested the hill and gazed down on the factory. It was bathed in darkness. There were single lamps over the doors and under a few windows to the structure, cutting the darkness with little yellow cones. I could make out a few shadowed shapes of wardens roaming the perimeter. None were in the immediate area we had chosen for insertion.
We’re in position, subvocalized Owen as he dropped to one knee, his gun against his shoulder. I count… six guards walking the perimeter. We will have a window for another ninety seconds.
Solomon knelt in the damp grass next to him. I stared at the office building that contained my target. It was a single story, with large windows running the length of the building. According to the blueprints, the windows were completely sealed, which meant we couldn’t open them without making a lot of noise. There were two doors—one in the front and one at the rear. Our goal was the front entrance.