"No. But I believe it. And sometimes that's enough." He tilts his head up, kisses me softly. "Whatever happens tonight, I'm glad I'm doing this with you."
"Even though I'm the reason you're in this mess?"
"You're the reason I'm alive. The mess is just context."
I hold him for a moment, letting myself have this. The warmth of him. The steadiness. The impossible fact that someone loves me, despite everything.
Then I let go. We have work to do.
The next six hours pass in a blur of preparation. Weapons checked and rechecked. Communication devices tested. Routes memorized, contingencies drilled, timing synchronized to the second.
By 2100, we're ready.
The drive to Geneva takes two hours. Jinx is behind the wheel, navigating the mountain roads with casual expertise. Jace sits beside him, reviewing the security layouts one last time. In the back seat, Jonah is pressed against my side, his hand in mine.
No one speaks.
There's nothing left to say.
We park a kilometer from the property, in a turnout hidden from the road by dense alpine trees. The night is cold and clear, stars scattered across a dark sky. Our breath clouds in the air as we gather around the hood of the car.
Elliot stays in the driver's seat, engine off but ready. His face is tense in the darkness, unhappy about being left behind but understanding the necessity.
"Keep the channel open," I tell him. "If you hear anything go wrong, you start the car and be ready to move."
"And if you don't come back?"
"Then you drive to the safehouse and wait for contact. If no contact in twenty-four hours, you get yourself somewhere safe and stay there."
"I'm not leaving Jace."
"If it comes to that, leaving is the only option. Dead martyrs don't save anyone."
He doesn't like it. I can see it in the set of his jaw, the way his hands grip the steering wheel. But he nods.
"Comms check," I say quietly.
Everyone confirms. The earpieces are working, the channels clear. We're connected, for whatever that's worth once we're inside.
"Remember. In and out. Ninety seconds to breach, thirty minutes inside, extraction before the system resets." I look at each of them in turn. "No heroics. No improvisation. We stick to the plan."
Nods all around. This is it. The moment we stop being passive and start being a threat. The moment we commit to something that can't be uncommitted.
"Move out."
We split into pairs. Jace and Jinx take the eastern approach, moving through the trees toward the perimeter fence. Their dark clothing blends with the shadows, and within seconds, I've lost sight of them. That's good. If I can't see them, neither can the guards.
Jonah and I go west, circling toward the blind spot in the camera coverage that Vasquez promised would exist. Theground is soft with pine needles, muffling our footsteps. The air smells like snow and evergreen and tension. The electricity of imminent action.
The fence appears through the trees, ten feet of chain link topped with razor wire. Beyond it, the main house glows with soft light. I can see movement in one of the windows. Someone's home.
That's not unexpected. The plan accounts for occupied spaces. But it adds a layer of complexity we could do without.
My earpiece crackles. "East team in position."
"West team in position," I respond. "Waiting for the gap."
We crouch in the darkness, watching the guards make their rounds. There are two of them, both in dark uniforms, both carrying sidearms. They're professional but not exceptional. Private security. They don't check their corners, don't vary their patterns, don't look up into the trees where two killers are waiting.
