Regina’s voice comes through the speakers. “For fuck’s sake, really?”
But it’s Indie’s that has my smile faltering.
She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even move.
She just fucking laughs.
“That was slightly unnerving,” Rex says, grimacing when he looks at me.
A wicked feeling erupts inside me, a surge coursing through my veins, knowing I’m likely going to witness if Indie will makemeeat my fucking words.
They move. The rooms are barely lit and the body camera with night vision activates, giving them just enough light to make out faint objects.
Despite what I told her before, she does move with grace. She weaves in and out of rooms, her gun constantly raised like it’s second nature.
Someone creeps up behind Regina, and Indie swipes them from the ankle, knocking them out with the butt of her gun.
Regina returns the favour by shooting whoever entered the room from the side.
“I’m impressed,” Indie says, giving Regina a high five. I remember Indie telling me Regina doesn’t get involved in the killing side. Much like Dawson, he would if needed.
Twenty minutes go by, and Indie’s team are in the lead; both her and Regina have been paired together.
Might have also purposely requested that.
She’s up against professionals, but she’s listening and obeying commands through their comms, which is one of the main things I need her to do.
Because Christ knows it’ll be me she has fucking ears painted on for.
There’s one pair left on the other team, two on Indie’s. She’s almost out of rubber bullets, only a couple left in the chamber.
She sneaks into a room, then immediately backs against the wall, her hand whipping to keep Regina back. The room fills with the opposite team’s comms.
“Have you seen the boss’s girl yet?”
“No, kinda don’t want to. She broke Tyler’s nose earlier. Mine is finally straight after ten years.”
A deep chuckle comes from me, and one of the men walks into the other room to clear it. Indie pushes off the wall; she’s like a wraith as she moves through it and sticks to the shadows.
One of my guys with almost five years of tactical experience is walking up the stairs, not even aware what she’s doing. She’s light on her feet, matching his footsteps.
She creeps up the stairs behind him, whilst fake bullets crack in the background, and my eyes flick over to the other screen, seeing their dark silhouettes at the top of the stairs.
Indie leans behind him, whispering in his ear, “Gotcha,” and everything happens in a blur.
He whips around to shoot her, but she’s faster.
She ducks, blocks his gun with a shove of her forearm, her other hand reaching for his ankle, tugging him off his feet before putting a fake bullet in his helmet, leaving a chalky mark to confirm he’s been hit.
I wipe the smirk away with the back of my hand, then reach for a cigarette, sparking it up.
Defeat.
That’s what it feels like I’m inhaling into my lungs; it’s just as potent.
I glance over at Rex, who’s already grinning like a fucking idiot at me. Now I know the two of them have definitely been conniving about this behind my back.
“What’s your verdict, then?” he asks, and I blow smoke towards the ceiling.
