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“Of course,” Dante says absently.
“And what exactly is your plan?” Erik asks, examining the pockets of his black vest.
“How are you with ropes?” Dante asks as he glances over the side of the deck.
Nothing about that question is comforting.
“But won’t we be walking into an attack?” I ask, taking the offered vest.
“No, we’ll be dropping into an attack, but it can’t be helped. We don’t have time.” Dante hands a thick black bodysuit to me and then one to Erik. “You’ll want to be wearing these.”
I can’t bring myself to ask why.
“And we’re going to take the aeroship in over the Icebox?” Erik asks. “That’s risky.”
“We don’t have any other choice,” Dante says, his tone growing weary. From the look on Falon’s face, he’s already tried this argument with her.
“We’ll fly Kincaid’s standard as we approach,” Falon explains. “We can only hope that in the chaos, no one looks too closely.”
“It will be fine,” Dante says. “Kincaid isn’t back yet. Jax and I can deal with any problems that arise.”
“I sure hope so,” Falon responds, but she looks skeptical.
Erik and I change, backs turned to each other. Neither of us speaks, but I’m sure he can hear my heart beating. It’s as loud as a drum, pounding against my chest.
“Zip me up?” I ask, once I’ve shimmied into the tight suit.
Erik pulls my zipper up and then plants a soft kiss on the back of my neck. The world around me stops, strands glimmering, swimming in a vital tangle of life and energy. I live a lifetime in the softness of those lips and the heat of his breath on my skin. I don’t say anything. Instead I shrug on my vest and stride from the room, unable to look at him.
Dante examines my vest and shows me a thin metal carabiner attached to a harness that will hold me to the rope as we rappel. I step into the harness and pull it over my legs. Dante grabs the carabiner. “Fall back.”
I eye him nervously, but allow my weight to shift back. I sway, but my head never hits the floor—Dante grips the carabiner and the harness holds. He grabs my arm and pulls me onto my feet with an approving smile.
“All you have to do is pull this under your leg. One hand here and the other here.” Falon demonstrates gripping the rope above the carabiner and then bringing the rope between her legs. Her other hand grips the rope against her tailbone. “Then push off and fall by slowly letting the rope slide in your hand. Don’t let go though.”
“You make that sound easy,” I say, taking a deep breath and mimicking her demonstration with the rope.
“Don’t overthink it,” she says. “Take these.” She holds out a pair of gloves. “We don’t want to damage your hands.”
“Thank you.” I don’t tell her they’re already damaged—that every bit of me is cracked and broken in some way.
She leans into me, whispering in my ear, “If anything happens, get to the tunnel and find me.”
I nod, but Dante steps betw
een us to appraise my harness one last time.
“We’re here,” he says. No one appears on the deck to throw the tethers, and I look to him, confusion written across my face.
“We can’t stop,” he says. “We don’t know the nature of this situation and we can’t risk the aeroship. It’s the only one the Agenda has.”
Because I destroyed the other one, I realize. I nod my head, trying to look brave, but I’m failing miserably.
Dante leads me to the only side of the deck without a railing. Four ropes are waiting in coiled piles. He yells but his words are caught in the wind. Then he grabs a rope and slings it over the side of the ship. It unfurls in the air, staying anchored to the deck. He pulls the rope between his legs. Positioning his hands, he leans back into the open air and jerks his head as if to say Join me. Erik and I look at each other. He winks.
“Any advice?” I ask Jax as we near the ropes.
“Slide fast,” he says, patting me on the shoulder.
