Page 62 of Her Sloth

Nikki has grown on me in the past week because she is as insane as I am, gives no fucks about anything while also being one of the rare humans who haven’t lost their belief in magic while being the most logical person I have ever met.

She’s playful. Laughs at the smallest things. Gazes at the moon with a grin. And somehow manages to put up with Cass on a day-to-day basis without ever losing her spark. Something I admire very much, because Cass has been driving me up the wall so many times in the past week of planning that I refused to sit in the same car as her.

So, it’s me and Nikki and the grumpy gremlin in front of us. Right now, however, I don’t care. Right now, adrenaline pumps through my veins. It’s been a while since I have had something to look out for, something thrilling that excites me. Maybe it’s the knowledge of fighting back, maybe the act of rebellion. Or, it might just be the thrill.

“Surveillance is all down outside,” says Illy.

“Coast won’t get any clearer,” says Ahmed. “You have at least an eight-minute window.”

“Roadblocks, go,” says Cass.

My heartbeat fastens.

Showtime.

Blair, Joy, and four others take on their position and close down Wall Street behind us by blocking it with their cars.

We come to a halt in front of Whitney Morgan Bank on Wall Street. The building with its massive columns stands empty in the silence of the night.

We get out.

Cass, the best shooter of us three, gets out with a crossbow and shoots a climbing line onto each of the two flag holders; Nikki and I fix the ends of the ropes to the cars with one well-handled knot.

I check the first rope.

“Let’s hope that’ll hold,” I say with a grin.

“It will,” says Cass. “Not the first time we do shit like that.”

“More concerned about the flag holders,” I say as I hang onto the rope.

“They’ll hold your featherweight,” she says. “Now get up there.”

I grin as I climb up the rope with my feet on the column. It’s fucking hard to climb up a loosely hanging rope, even with the column as support—Nikki, who is much more trained than I am, is up in less than twenty seconds and climbs up to the next entablature.

Not that I am untrained; I do most stunts for my roles myself, and I free climb in the mountains, but a rope is different—especially when attached to a very fragile-looking metal stick that generally doesn’t hold more than a flag.

I reach the first entablature, pull myself up, and then sit on the small strip, slipping off the backpack.

The feeling from up here is fucking amazing.

I pull the banner from the backpack and fix it to the metal flag holder. Then, I throw the backpack down, get up carefully, and balance over the small parapet. Nikki does the same on the other level.

“You really didn’t joke when you said you don’t need a harness,” calls Nikki down to me. She grins broadly, balancing with her banner over the higher parapet.

“Told ya,” I say and add with a chuckle, “The only time I need a harness is when I strap in.”

Nikki laughs as Cass calls from down on the street. “Can you fucking leave the chit-chat for later and hurry up?”

“Did you hear anything?” I ask Nikki to get back at Cass.

“Nope,” says Nikki, chuckling.

We both reach the end and fix our banner.

“Okay, guys, hurry up,” says Ahmed in my ear. We’re getting company. One minute out.”

I slide down the rope.