Page 59 of Fragile Facade
As their mom gives him a talking-to about something, Leigh looks up at me and says, “I’m goth.”
Yeah, about as goth as she can get in that getup. “Damn right,” I tell her with a grin. “Get a king cobra someday. Cool hair and killer spit and all.”
Her smile is more devious than her outfit suggests, but just like that, I like her even more. Not all kids are so bad, I guess. When I glance back to check on Ghost, I find him watching me, a strange look in his usually closed-off eyes. He meets my gaze, blinks, and then looks away.
When we land, the girl holds my hand as we leave the plane, and I catch Ghost looking again. I’m trying not to be weird, but I’ve never held hands with a person before, let alone a kid, so when her mom whisks her away through the line, I breathe out in relief and wave back at her as she does a snake-fangs sign to me with her fingers.
We make it through security with fabricated IDs, find the rental car, and don’t talk as I drive us towards Reaper City. There are five days until the music festival, and if I’m not back by then, I won’t be coming back at all. That’s my goal.
About an hour in, I say, “You’re nervous.”
“I’m not fucking—yeah, I am nervous. We’re about to break into a lab in the middle of a walled-off city, owned and operated by the most powerful, dangerous organization in this part of the world, maybe even the whole world. You’d be stupid not to be nervous.”
I look at my eyes in the rearview mirror, needing that visual reminder of who I am. Riot, not Killian, and today, I’m not going to buckle under pressure like I did when I was a kid. I’m gonna be fierce like that girl on the plane, confident like her, too. I’ll be the goddamn king cobra instead of the lion, because if anyone from Reaper Corp comes for us—comes for Soren—I won’t hesitate to bite. His death is mine to grant, and until I do, he’s mine to have. No one else gets him unless they take me down first.
“Drop the fucking masks, Riot.”
“I am,” I admit. “Scared. So, let’s make a bulletproof plan.” Director was right. If we don’t work together on this one, we aren’t getting out alive.
* * *
In a hotel roomseveral kilometers outside of Reaper City, we took down the decorative art on the wall to project our screen. Director, Glitch, Facts, and Ransom are all on the line, and Axel is available for questions if we need him. We’ve spent the last twelve hours plotting out the lay of the city, monitoring the security and guard routes, planning our paths and anything that might hold us up along the way, and arguing about variables. We have plans and backup plans, and we have instructions for what to do if we’re captured, caught, or can’t get out of the city undetected. Most importantly, we know what we’re looking for and where to find it.
“Time to get some sleep, boys,” Director says through the tablet’s speaker. “Less than six hours until you move. Ransom is on standby, and Glitch is here with him. Rest up, and good luck.”
“Tell Krypt?—”
Ghost glares at me, hanging up before I get the rest of the sentence out. “No,” he tosses the tablet onto the bed. “None of that. No lame goodbyes ortake care of my goldfishbullshit. Six hours from now, we’re going in, we’re getting that key, and we’re getting out.”
For someone so skilled at silence and the art of moving without detection, he’s shaking an awful lot. His fingers are trembling, and his eyes are twitchy, but I can’t tell if it’s from exhaustion, fear, or worry. Maybe all three. Maybe more than that. He never got to say goodbye to Remi either.
Ghost is still looking at me, and I’m not even sure if I want to call him Ghost or if he’s Soren right now, so I turn away to look in the mirror, grounding myself in my own eyes.
“Riot.”
“I need the ninety seconds.” It kills me to say it, but he doesn’t do anything other than nod in the mirror. He gives me a minute, sitting on the edge of the bed to gather our supplies and weapons for tonight.
This is different for me. Iamscared. I’ve hardly been outside of Moros, and now I’m expected to survive this? The real world is hard for me, but the fact that I’m just a fuckup with antisocial personality disorder who belongs to a society doesn’t buy me as much clout outside of Moros’ limits. Reaper Corp is a powerhouse, and we’re just two guys who can barely trust each other. I’m unfamiliar with feeling inferior to anyone or anything, and I’m definitely not used to feeling intimidated. I got comfortable being a king in Moros and forgot I’m only a spider outside—I can be squished and stepped on, but I’m still feared, so that’s what I need to focus on.
I don’t have much empathy or remorse for the things I do, and I see myself as the highest form of authority, so it’s really fucking me up something fierce to doubt all that. I’m cowardly enough to admit that if I had the choice, I wouldn’t take this mission. Not because I’m terrified of it, but because it will fucking kill me worse if I get captured and have to live in the proof that I failed. I don’t fucking fail, and I don’t let anyone beat me. Not unless I allow them to because it suits my needs. This whole mission is rocking me to my core because it goes against everything I’ve ever thought of myself.
There’s one small part that can’t wait to succeed so I have a new bragging right, but for once, it’s hard to focus on that when the chill of doom is so real and different from what I’m used to. I’m too agitated to even fuck with him when he goes to shower, choosing to shower after him instead.
We’re both on our backs, the curtains drawn to block the sun, in separate beds, unable to sleep. He doesn’t make a sound, but I must sigh because he scolds me a few times before he climbs out of bed and rips the blanket back on mine. I look at him, baffled and confused.
He curses as he slips in beside me. “I don’t trust that window or the door. There’s nowhere safe to put my back, so for one time only…”
He’ll give me his back, and I can give him mine. For protection and safety. Wow… never thought… just never thought.
It’s unsettling to feel so comfortable next to him. Nearly naked without the thought of sex entering my mind, tired and unguarded without worry about what he’ll try to pull, unmasked and unsure of what part of me is showing through. It’s a breath in time, that silent second between heartbeats. Nothing really exists here because we never spend time here, but we’re here now, breathing and existing in that pause between lightning and thunder.
“Why’d you do it?” Ghost—Soren?—asks the silent room, his voice breathy like he had to push it out.
“Do what?”
“Hold that girl’s hand.”
I feel myself go tense but I don’t know what it means. I don’t dare look at him, not because I’m intimidated by the question, but because I’m unsure what the question insinuates. “She held mine.”
