“Yeah. Just not hungry. But… I do need to talk to you about something.”
She leans back, curls her legs beneath her, and slurps up a mouthful of noodles.
“Okay… shoot.”
“How would you feel about helping us extract a group of girls from Manticore tomorrow night?”
I brace for her reaction—expect her to stiffen, maybe shut down at the name.
But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t freeze.
Instead, she lights up—actually lights up.
“Seriously? Hell yes! Count me in. That prick from today? He’s just the warm-up.” She’s practically vibrating with energy, already crafting violent daydreams in her head.
“Alright, slow down,” I say, resting a hand on her thigh to ground her—and maybe myself.
Her skin’s so soft and warm beneath my palm. And damn, the way she looks at me… my dick jerks instantly.
Focus.
“Me, Talia, and the team will handle the extraction. But I need you inside. I need someone who can speak to the girls—earn their trust. Help them understand what’s coming so they don’t panic or blow our cover. When the time comes, you’ll be the one to lead them to safety.”
She’s listening carefully now, eyes alert and serious.
“There’s one condition,” I continue. “You’ll have to go in posing as a lot item. We can’t risk raising suspicion. But I swear to you, no one will touch you. It’ll be for show—just until we move.”
She doesn’t question me, she’s just nodding wildly.
“I trust you,” she says simply. “Besides… they won’t know what hit them.”
Her clumsy smile reminds me just how lucky I am that girl came bulldozing into my life.
I love her so fucking much.
59
Nell
I can do this.
Iwilldo this.
These girls are getting out.
Cam’s across the room, methodically packing the duffle—holsters, weapons, mask, earpiece, combat boots. His movements are fluid, efficient, almost surgical. He’s in mission mode now—silent, calculating, mentally ticking through the plan he’s recited to me at least fifteen times in the last hour.
We leave soon.
Talia headed out hours ago with the team to start prepping, her voice a steady stream of codewords and tactical lingo that mostly flew over my head. Still, Cam’s included me, and that means something. For the first time, I don’t feel like a passenger—I have a role. A reason. Purpose.
Cam scrubs a hand through his hair, then rifles through the bag again—this time pulling out a pair of binoculars. I think.
I sink back against the bed, stroking the plush velvet of the throw beneath me, letting a strange calm settle across my body like silk.
They’re going to burn for this.
Maybe not all of them tonight. Maybe the Broker won’t be there.
