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He nodded at that. "Figures. You ready?"
“Is this the part where I say, I was born ready?"
He rolled his eyes. “You're such a twat."
I headed toward my course and tried to pull myself mentally back into the game. Saff had trained me for this. I just had to figure out what the hell my distraction was going to be and ignore it.
Ten minutes later I walked into my training course, and the sense of dread fell over me like a black sackcloth.
A little too much like a black sackcloth. Matter of fact, exactly like the one that had been shoved over me in my flat.
They'd recreated my goddamn flat.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I looked around and saw the markers leading to my starting point. My bedroom. Fucking hell. They’d left no detail untouched right down to the Xander Chase on my goddamn wall and the Z Con that was hanging next to the cupboard. Upon closer inspection, I saw they were prints and not originals, so they hadn't taken them from my flat. But Christ, if I hadn't been looking closely I would have mistaken them. It wasn't until I sat down on my bed that I realized what they'd done.
They'd sprayed perfume on the bed, and for some reason it smelled wrong. But something about it triggered a memory. Me waking up alone in bed. But the more I tried to tug on that thread, the more I rebelled and couldn't quite piece it together. I knew what was expected. So I laid down, trying to clear my head and wondering what the point was in replicating my loft. But I then shoved it out of my head. I didn't need to know the whys; I just needed to follow through, hit the targets, and make it out in the right amount of time. Easy, right? I cleared my mind and waited for the buzzer.
I heard the sound of gunfire. I could almost sense the person behind the door, so I rolled out of bed easily, palmed my gun that I'd placed right under my pillow, and fired. I didn't even wait to see the hint of green on the target's vest as I hit my mark. That person proceeded to lay on the floor in the doorway and I stepped over them easily.
I approached the stairs into my fake living area slowly. There was more of that sweet scent sprayed everywhere. What was that? It was wrong. All wrong.
From behind, someone jumped out. I blocked the hit, turned around to cast an elbow behind me, dropped my hips, and shoved them back. Pulling the person overhead and down, I aimed the gun and fired at his chest. Again, green light.
Before the other person from the doorway leading to the second bedroom could even step out, I hit that target.
It was like I knew where they were going to be. As if some part of my mind could sense it. I quickly whipped around, pointed at my loft, three, two, one, target hit.
What the hell? Why did I know where these targets were?
Saff had run me through all possible scenarios, but we'd never done a version of this. Hell, how would she even know about my flat? So what was this? Why did I know where they were going to be?
I'd taken down four targets. I had to find my asset. I cleared each room, which finally left the cupboard, and it was the scent in the cupboard that stopped me.
Oh, fuck. Saff. I searched over my shoulder and saw no more targets were coming for me. When I pulled the door open, there was Saff in her bra and panties. Oh, Christ. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my gaze off her tits, but it wasn't even her state of undress, it was her scent that got to me. I liked how she smelled over the too sweet smell they’d sprayed over my loft. And Saff looked like she had blood on her side. I knew it wasn't real. I understood that. But something deep inside me broke just seeing her like that, lifeless. And the markings on her face… She looked like she'd been cut or something.
Rage simmered in my blood. I couldn't account for the anger. And maybe it took me a moment too long, but what appeared to be the front door of my flat opened. I aimed. And in that brief second, I knew it wasn't a target. And then I saw the baton and colorings of police issued jacket. The police. Fuck. “You’d better not be actually hurt,” I said.
I picked her up easily. She was tall but easy to lift. I carried her in my arms and then shifted her in a fireman's hold so that I could still wield my gun. Two police officers walked in and headed for the upstairs loft. And as they were going, one of them turned around and aimed at me, but I fired first.
Green marker.
Oh fuck. Over my shoulder, Saff moaned.
"Are you fucking hurt?"
"Lock? What the hell?" She sounded disoriented. "What's happening? Is this your flat?"
I hesitated then. How the fuck did she know about my flat? Another target came round the corner of the hallway, just in the doorframe. I hit them and got a green target on the shoulder, but they pointed their gun.
I cursed under my breath and turned to tuck Saff behind the door.
But she got hit. I heard the buzzer. I checked the target sensors on her body and saw they'd shot her in the leg. Fuck. I was going to lose points for that, but I needed to get out to wherever the fuck the exit was. The target was coming forward, sending an array of bullets toward us with not much more than the countertop as cover.
She was too disoriented to help. "Lock, why are we in your flat?"
"Why do you know what my flat looks like?"
