Chapter 80 *
Scarlett's POV
I'd already changed my disguise before this.
I'd put on the nanotech silicone mask. Now I looked like a middle-aged hospital administrator. Maybe fifty years old. Slightly overweight. I'd even found a big curly wig. Brown with gray streaks. The attention to detail was perfect.
I checked my reflection in a bathroom mirror before leaving the locker room.
No terrorist would look at me twice. I was invisible. Just another scared hospital employee trying to survive.
That was fifteen minutes ago.
Now I was standing in this office with a gun to my head and a knife at someone's throat.
We stared at each other for a long moment.
His gun was still pressed against my forehead. My knife was still at his throat.
Neither of us moved.
"Yeah," I said finally. "It's me."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
He didn't lower his gun. "Answer the question."
"I'm here for a prenatal checkup." My voice came out flat. "What are you here for? A spa day?"
His head tilted slightly. Like he was trying to figure out if I was joking.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Believe whatever you want. It's the truth."
"You're in disguise. Heavily armed. Moving through a terrorist-occupied hospital like you own the place."
"Yeah, because that's what you do when terrorists crash your doctor's appointment."
The gun didn't move. "Did you come for the Cosmos-1?"
My stomach dropped.
How does he know about that?
"I don't know what you're talking about." I tried to sound confused.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Don't waste my time."
Well. Shit.
"I'm not here for that." I kept my voice steady. "I'm just a hostage. Wrong place, wrong time."
"You're Sable."
"Yes, but I'm not here for Cosmos-1."
"Then why are you here?"
"Prenatal checkup."
He blinked. Just once. "Cosmos-1 shouldn't exist in this world. Replication would be catastrophic."
"I know that."
"You need to leave. Now."
"I can't just leave. The building's locked down."
"That's your problem. Not mine."
I stared at him. This cold, heartless bastard.
"Why are you even here?" I asked. "What's your angle?"
"Extraction. I'm here for someone."
My brain started working. Fast.
Extraction. He was here to rescue someone specific.
I thought back to the hostages in the lobby. Tried to remember faces.
No young, beautiful women. Mostly middle-aged society ladies. A few elderly people.
Wait.
There had been one person. Early twenties. Long-limbed. Pretty boy energy.
And according to Icarus's gossip...
Oh my God.
"You're married." The words came out before I could stop them.
He went very still.
All those rumors over the years. Why Ronin never took the bait on honey traps. Why he turned down every seduction attempt.
Because he liked men.
Holy shit.
My brain was racing. Was I right? Was the legendary Ronin actually here to rescue his husband?
I needed to know. But I couldn't just ask directly. That would be stupid.
I cleared my throat. "The terrorists have deployment patterns in the lobby, east wing, and stairwells. Twelve men total. Eight with suicide vests."
I blinked at the subject change.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Uh. Okay?"
"Bombs are rigged on every floor. C-4. Professional grade."
He reached into his tactical vest. Pulled out a Glock 19. Tossed it to me.
I caught it automatically.
"From now on, I'm tactical lead on this operation."
"What operation? I thought you wanted me to leave."
"Plans change." He pulled out another weapon. A tactical crossbow. Handed it to me. "Disarming the bombs is priority one. If those go off, everyone dies."
I looked at the weapons in my hands.
Then at him.
"You want to work together?"
"I want you to follow orders. There's a difference."
"Wow. Charming."
He ignored that. Pulled up his phone. Started typing.
"We have five minutes. Get changed. Take tactical gear from one of the dead terrorists. Black balaclava. Make yourself unrecognizable."
"And then?"
"Then we infiltrate. Strike from within."
He looked up at me. Those cold eyes pinning me in place.
"Five minutes. Then we move. With or without you."
I opened my mouth to argue.
He was already walking away.
"Hey! Wait!"
He didn't stop.
I stood there. Holding a Glock and a crossbow. Wearing a terrible wig and pantyhose.
I found a supply closet. Dragged a dead terrorist's body inside.
Started stripping off his gear.
Tactical vest. Black cargo pants. Combat boots.
The clothes were too big. But I rolled up the cuffs. Tightened the vest straps.
Put on the black balaclava.
Looked at myself in a broken mirror.
Okay. This could work.
I grabbed the assault rifle. Checked the magazine.
Full. Good.
I stepped out into the hallway.
Ronin was already there. Waiting.
He looked me up and down. Once.
His eyes stopped on my chest.
I felt my face heat up under the mask.
"What?"
"On the battlefield there are only soldiers. Not women." His voice was clinical. "Your disguise needs to account for body structure."
My brain short-circuited.
"Excuse me?"
"You have sixty seconds. Fix it."
"Fix what exactly?"
He gestured vaguely at my chest area.
"That."
Oh my God.
"I can't exactly change my anatomy on command."
"Lose the bra. Sports bra too. Bind tighter."
I stared at him.
This man. This absolute bastard.
"Are you serious right now?"
"Thirty seconds."
"You're counting?"
"Twenty-five."
I wanted to shoot him. I really, really wanted to shoot him.
"Fine!" I spun around. Marched back into the supply closet.
Started unbuttoning my tactical vest.
This was humiliating. This was absolutely humiliating.
I unhooked my bra. Threw it on the floor.
Found medical tape in a cabinet. Started wrapping.
Tight. Tighter.
I could barely breathe. But at least I looked flat.
Mission comes first. Dignity comes never.
I put the vest back on. Buttoned it up.
Checked the mirror.
Better. I looked like a slightly-built male soldier now.
I stepped out of the closet.
The hallway was empty.
That bastard.
He'd said thirty seconds. And he'd meant thirty seconds.
He'd left without me.
I was going to kill him. I was absolutely going to kill him.
I started walking. Fast.
Trying to remember which direction he'd gone.
Found him two hallways over.
He was crouched by a window. Phone out. Watching surveillance footage.
I walked up behind him. Tapped his shoulder.
He didn't even flinch.
"You left."
"You took too long."
"You said thirty seconds!"
"I said sixty. You used forty-five."
"You started counting down from thirty!"
He glanced back at me. "The clock started when I gave the initial order."
I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands.
He turned back to his phone. Started typing.
He started walking. I followed.
Despite everything. Despite how much I wanted to punch him in his stupid, emotionless face.
I had to admit something.
The man knew what he was doing.
Even with communications jammed. Even with the building on lockdown.
He'd hacked into the hospital's security system. Had real-time surveillance footage.
That took serious skill.
I pushed my personal feelings aside.
Focused on the mission.
We had a building to save. Hostages to rescue.
And somewhere in that lobby. A pretty boy was waiting to be rescued by his badass assassin husband.
This was going to be one hell of a story.
If we survived.