23. Frey

TWENTY-THREE

FREY

I am not afraid. For once, telling myself that doesn't feel like some shallow mantra. At the prospect of facing my father and potentially getting caught in the aftermath of his scheme, death isn't what I fear.

It's losing Daze. It's letting him down. It's proving once and for all that I'm some stupid little girl unworthy of anything but pity.

I'm not afraid as much as I am worried sick, but love has a strange way of making you feel strong against any force that might threaten it. Now that it's out in the open, I feel as though nothing has changed.

And yet everything has.

When our fingers entwine, it feels so natural. As easy as breathing. Perfect. At the same time, it's like being connected to him electrifies me, sending a current of strength through my system. I feel like together we can take on anything.

Whether we actually can or not remains to be seen.

"We'll head to the news station," Daze explains to the others. "You guys start tracking down those locations—we need to find the detonator?—"

"And what if Silas shows up as expected?" Damien interrupts. "Or, what if one of those places is rigged to blow?"

"We'll handle it somehow. I guess that's where Lex and his expertise comes in," Daze says darkly, his jaw clenched. I know that look. He's thinking of all the twisted things Silas has done—and whatever he is planning to do still. He intends to make him pay for every last bruise, insult, and indiscretion.

No matter the ultimate cost.

"We'll do our best to handle the explosives," a man with bright auburn hair says. I think Daze called him Damien. "Then we'll converge on your position."

"And if you can't, I want you all to get as far from the city as you can. Ben, you take care of Sam for me, okay?"

Ben rolls his eyes. "Daze, you'll take care of him your damn self because we're all getting out of this alive. Now, enough of the fucking mush mouth shit. Let's get going."

He, Daze, and Damien share a wild, tooth-bared grin. On the surface, they may seem like reckless daredevils itching for violence, but I can tell that beneath the veneer, each and every one of them is aware of what is on the line.

And they're willing to risk their lives.

No one can judge them for that.