32. Roni

Diego's friends were something else, but I liked them. The girls, despite having completely different backgrounds, all seemed to be close and had each other's backs. Christine was very approachable, which given her wealth and near-like celebrity status, you'd suspect the opposite. Abbi was so bad-ass, I respected the hell out of her.

Jasmine was sassy and quick witted, which I could certainly appreciate, because I recognized those traits in myself. Natalia was so flipping nice, and she might have been the most relatable. It felt like we had our own insider's club, as we were both still learning how to survive in Washington.

Night had fallen, and we all gathered around the campfire. Diego sat to my right and Natalia to my left. Our dinner consisted of cooked hare and sockeye salmon. Diego's friends had the good sense to bring a bottle of tabasco sauce, and it made dinner absolutely delicious—the best I'd had since coming to Alaska.

The fire crackled as Guy tucked in to share what he knew about Geneva.

"So the group originated with Greggory Marshall. He grew up in the mountains of West Virginia in a very poor family. I'm talking about ten siblings, one working parent, with a three-bedroom rundown house. He probably never had a new pair of clothes until he was an adult, out on his own."

"He worked multiple jobs, saved up some money, and got the hell out of the mountains. He moved to Washington where he entered politics at the bottom level, interning and such. In his forties, he was burned by a senator; it became this whole embarrassing scandal. He was accused of embezzling money. He went into hiding for years until this website went online with his new beliefs that our government is corrupt beyond repair." It seemed like the classic villain story. He grew up poor, made bad decisions, and blamed everyone and everything else for his problems.

Jones cleared his throat. "That's a nice sob story and all—but that's not what we really need to know."

Jasmine shot him a look and tapped him on his arm with the back of her hand. "Of course we do. If you want to know your enemy, you need to know what made them the enemy. That's how you manipulate them and anticipate their next move."

Guy continued, "Anyways, somewhere along the way he gained a following of other individuals who believe their voices have never been heard, and they are willing to do whatever it takes to be seen and heard. They started out small—spray painting cop cars, government buildings and such. Then they moved up to hacking government officials and leaking classified information, draining bank accounts and stuff."

Wells leaned forward, inching closer to the fire to get a better look at Guy. "Do you know who the hackers working for them are?"

My eyebrows pulled together in confusion before I could stop them. "How would he know?" I asked.

Guy's eyes met mine over the flames. "Most online hackers have an alias they go by. We communicate, but of course we don't exchange personal information, including our real names." He then turned his head to address Wells. "Yes, and no. The work and digital signatures left behind feel familiar, but no one I'm in communication with has claimed any relationship or support for the group. I don't know if this is for self-preservation or if somehow this group has gotten their hands on an up-and-coming hacker who doesn't communicate with any others in the dark web—which is unusual. Usually they like to brag about their conquests." He turned his head back to address me. "The work they do is unseen and unappreciated by most, so they like to brag in a community that gets it, even if people will never know who they really are, just their hacker name."

That made sense. I could imagine how lonely and unfulfilling that felt, too, keeping a passion or skill like that in the dark.

"So Geneva's got their hands on a hacker, and they've got mercenaries willing to kill for their cause…"

My eyes turned down to the ground as I thought of Nina. I blinked rapidly to fight back tears. I hoped the cover of darkness disguised my face so no one would see me upset.

I felt Diego place his hand on mine where it rested beside me. He gave a gentle squeeze but didn't do anything to bring attention to me. I felt gratitude for the gesture and his discretion.

"And they have a misguided sense of justice," Christine finished.

"So we're all sitting around this campfire because Greggory decided America would rally behind him if he kidnapped the president's daughter and held her for ransom? The price being a share of the political power pie?" Yates asked.

Guy nodded.

Wells ran a frustrated hand over his face. "You almost want to feel sorry for the stupid bastard. Doesn't matter, though, terrorism is terrorism, no matter the intentions or reasons that fuel it."

The whole plan seemed full of gaping wide holes to me. Unless the plan was never to be an electorally elected government, the Geneva Project would never realize their full goals. While some people may have been fooled, the country as a whole could recognize terrorism or a coup when they saw it.

"No, we all have a tragic backstory. We pulled ourselves out of our struggles the honorable way. I say fuck 'em. We'll avenge Roni's friend and show the world that it takes more than one man to threaten democracy," Mendez said. The conviction in his voice was powerful enough to give me goosebumps.

"Amen to that," Strong added.

Just then, howls pierced the night, coming somewhere from the woods beyond the front of the cabin. I tensed, and Diego squeezed my hand again.

"They likely won't come any closer. I left the hare furs and organs out in the woods a little ways. They're probably just thanking us for the grub," Abbi said.

If only leaving food out would keep the Geneva Project at bay. The thought led to another.

"What if we gave the Geneva Project what they wanted? What would be the purpose of actually capturing me? To get me to make a statement going against my father? What if we gave them a recording of me and leave it at that?"

There was a moment of silence as my idea was considered.

"Not without half the world seeing you as a traitor to your father and the country," Jones said.

I felt a little defeated. If only it could have been that simple.

"It was a good idea, but there's no guarantee how others will see you or what that means for you after this is all said and done." Guy tries to soothe over the hurt of the rejected idea.

"What if—" Jasmine starts.

"I swear to god, if you say we signal to Geneva our exact location and use her as bait, I will lose my shit," Diego cuts her off. He was cool, calm, but firm, careful not to cross a line.

A smirk forms on her lips. "What is it with you men? It's always worked out in the end. We're four for four. There's more of us now, and we've got your back—we've got Roni's back."

"And we're deeply outnumbered this time." Diego swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "I signed a contract, Jasmine. I've already crossed a line that I'm going to take some heat for…" My face turned red, because I knew exactly what lines he was talking about, and I enjoyed every bit of it. "But something that specifically puts her in danger on purpose…that's a risk I can't take."

I watched Diego closely. His body was tensed, ready to spring at a moment's notice. His throat bobbed, and his foot anxiously tapped against the grass beneath us. It was at that moment that I realized there was way more to his objection than the stupid contract he signed. This was an emotional response, not a logical one.

I squeezed his hand. "It's okay, I'd volunteer to be bait, but I recognize that I'm not your typical protectee. I won't do anything rash, I promise."

His shoulders and spine relaxed, and even his touch on my hand softened, as if he was physically lightened by my words. His eyes said what he wouldn't in front of his friends. Thank you.

I hoped he could see that our dynamic from our school years, or even the rough start to our partnership was gone. I could recognize we were outnumbered here. Even with the twelve of us, we were up against a lot.

No one spoke up to suggest anything otherwise. We're going to be on the defensive, and we would make our last stand here on the clifftop. I hoped that we'd be ready.