Page 89 of Lethal Weakness

But his eyes aren’t visible like Jack’s were in his mask… They’re black and hollow.

It’s eerily synonymous with seeing death walking.

“Can you look at her leg? Make sure it isn’t broken, and infection doesn’t set in?” Jack asks the man as if he is medically inclined to do so.

He nods, moving across the room, and everyone shifts out of his way besides Jack. “A little space, please.” The guy’s voice is like gravel but calm in a way that sounds educated or mature.

Jack shifts to my side, but I cling to him so he doesn’t abandon me. I feel like I’m in shark-infested waters in this room.

“Ow, shit,” I yelp when he removes my shoe and starts palpating my foot.

“Nothing seems to be broken. I’ll clean up the wound that’s creating most of this blood and then decide if it needs to be sutured.” He gets to work, using supplies he must have brought along, but I can’t watch him.

Jack’s busy looking over my other injuries. His eyes roam over my scraped limbs and the wounds on my hands, my swollen knuckles. His frown deepens when he gets to my face.

I can feel the stiffness in my cheek where a bruise is probably discoloring my skin, and it’s not the only place. I feel like I’ve been hit by a car.

“Are you going to tell me everything now?” I utter after his scary friend sticks a needle in my ankle to numb me.

“Not here.” His eyes shift to the side as if he doesn’t want to speak freely in front of these people, but I thought they were a team?

“You promise?” I whisper more painfully than I mean to, and it has nothing to do with my physical state.

He kisses the tips of my battered fingers before he flattens my palm over his chest. “I fucking promise.” He looks at me deeply with those beautiful eyes that I knew were his all along. The eyes he could never truly hide from me, and I know in this moment at least, I believe him.

“Why the masks?”

“We work anonymously because it’s safer that way, and we don’t know each other’s old identities.”

“But your mask…”

“All I could think about was getting to you on time. I didn’t really give a shit who saw my face.”

I nod, biting my lip. It would be so easy to fall into his arms and forgive him for all of the lies… But I’ve been kept in the dark about so many things. Being lied to by so many people has ruined me.

“What do you mean by old identities?”

“Working in black ops means that your old life is over. We function in the dark,” he whispers ominously.

“What’s our plan?” The guy in the white mask asks.

In the light of the kitchen, it’s easier to see that he’s wearing nicer clothes than everyone else. They’re nearly dress clothes.

Jack studies my face for a moment longer before standing and pulling his mask onto his head but not over his face. “We go in hot. Kill everyone we can. Save the hostages.”

“What if you get hurt?” I interrupt their huddle.

A few muffled snickers fill the room, and it makes me bristle. This is not funny.

“Not worried about your in-laws, momma bird?” The guy in the white mask asks, and Jack’s head snaps to the side to glare at him.

“Don’t call me that. And, no. I don’t really give a shit about them.”

“I like her,” the devil mask says.

“Is she fine?” Jack snaps at the guy playing doctor.

“Yes, just a lot of swelling. No need for stitches. Keep your wounds clean. Take these.” He tries to hand me white pills.