Page 55 of Pretty Savage: Defy

The only thing out of place is Damian himself.

He sits at the open end of the room in a rolling chair, positioned directly across from the front door. A revolver rests in one hand, held low against his thigh. More guns lie on the table beside him, arranged in a row from smallest to largest: a second pistol, a sawed-off shotgun, an AR-style rifle.

“Looks like he’s expecting us,” Thomson remarks dryly.

“Guess so.” I check the safety on my own gun, clicking it off, and pick up my knife, freshly sharpened, from the center console. “Would be rude to keep him waiting.” I grin at my best friend, partly because my blood is pumping, that adrenaline high rushing through my system, and partly to reassure him.

He worries something bad will happen to me. I suppose if we do this often enough, eventually he’ll be right.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight Laurel waits for me back at the Manor and I’ll be damned if I don’t make it back to her.

“Hit the EMP,” I tell him as I slip out of the car, pulling the eyepiece down over one eye.

Thomson pushes a button, activating the electromagnetic pulse, and through the computer screen I hear Damian swear. The lights along this block have gone dark, along with every backup system Damian thought would keep him safe. His monitors are dead. His cameras are dead. Whatever precautions he built into that command center, Thomson just rendered useless.

I turn on my eyepiece, and it syncs with the drone. Tinged green with night vision, I can see Damian has jumped up and stands with his gun extended. It wavers as he searches through the darkness.

He won’t see me coming.

I let out a satisfied sigh. I love it when a plan comes together. The apartment building is quiet as I take the stairs two at a time, passing no one on the way up. Outside Damian’s place, my fingers press against the earpiece that connects me to Thomson.

“I’m in position.”

From my jacket pocket, I take out the slim mechanical override Thomson handed me before we left. It settles over Damian’s lock with a faint click.

For a man who built an electronic fortress, Damian put an awful lot of faith in cameras, jammers, live feeds, and backup systems. With all that dead, the only thing standing between us is a standard deadbolt.

I engage the override.

A soft thunk sounds from the other side of the door.

“It’s unlocked,” I tell Thomson.

“Perfect.” Through the earpiece, I hear Thomson’s fingers moving over the keyboard. “Turning on the electrogenerator.”

“Done,” he declares a second later.

“Muting you now,” I tell him, my thumb poised over the button.

Thomson doesn’t ask why. We learned a long time ago that once I’m inside, I need silence. No voice in my ear competing with what’s in front of me.

“Be careful,” he says before I cut off the incoming channel. His voice disappears, but I leave my microphone live. If I go down, he’ll know exactly where to send help. Not that I’ve ever needed it before, and I don’t plan to start tonight.

I raise my foot and drive it into the door. The lock gives with a jolt, and it swings inward.

Damian shoots me.

Right in the chest.

Except, the gun stays silent in his hand. No bang. No flash. He brings it closer to his face, gaping at it.

“That’s not a very nice way to welcome a guest.” I stride into the room, closing the door behind me.

Without taking my eyes off him, I set a small lantern on the floor and nudge the switch with my boot. White light floods the space, and Damian flings up a hand to shield his eyes. When he finally looks at me, his face blanches.

“Oh, shit.” His eyes widen. “They sent you?”