Page 206 of Operation: Defiance

Chapter Fifty-Four

Raine

The noise hits first. Not sound. Noise. A wall of it slamming into my skull the second we turn onto First Avenue.

Voices layer over one another, over the metallic twang of an electric guitar from a busker on the corner, the shouts of the fishmongers, the slap of salmon landing on a slab of ice.

There’s too much. I can’t separate it. Can’t make sense of it.

Colors are too loud. The sunlight burns my eyes, even through the sunglasses Asher gave me before we left the safe house.

Asher keeps his hand at the small of my back, angling his body to try to shield me, but he might as well be a ghost for all the good it’s doing.

Someone clips my left shoulder. Panic cinches tight around my throat. I swallow a whimper, turning closer to Asher.

“Breathe for me,” he says, his voice steady, only inches from my ear. “We’re almost through it.”

The scent of taffy is too sweet, and suddenly, all I can taste is that thick, chemical food. Flooding my mouth. Choking me.

I used to be able to track three conversations at once while slipping through crowds like this. It was never easy, but it didn’t leave me shattered. Now, I can’t even manage a shallow breath without bracing for pain.

Dipping my left hand into my pocket, I find the ridges of Asher’s coin.

I’m not back there.

No one’s hurting me. My wrists and ankles are free. There’s no hood. No oppressive silence broken only by the whir of the cameras and the unrelenting gusts from the ventilation.

My body is sure I’m lying to it.

My heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. My vision tunnels at the edges. Someone laughs too loudly behind me.

I flinch, bracing for a correction that never comes.

They took this from me. The simple ability to walk through a crowd without breaking into pieces. They stripped me down until I was nothing but raw nerves and conditioned responses, and now I’m about to shatter amid a crowd that might as well be a mine field.

I drag my thumb over the coin again. Focus on the ridges. The weight of it.

My pulse is still too high. Count. Four beats per inhale. Hold. Six beats out. The roar of static in my head doesn’t disappear, but it quiets enough for me to isolate some of the chaos into manageable pieces.

A young woman asking about fresh clams. The rumble of an engine from a delivery truck halfway up the block. The scent of roses from a vendor with buckets and buckets of flowers for sale.

Asher guides me through the worst of it and toward the viewing deck that overlooks Puget Sound. As soon as we step through the heavy glass door, I sag against him.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.

He presses his lips to the top of my head—over the floppy hat hiding my face from view. “You just did.”

I give myself one more moment in his arms, then draw in a breath that’s mostly steady. “We’re leaving another way. A quieter one.”

His voice reassures me more than anything. “You lead. I’ll follow.”

Asher

I don’t like leaving Raine in an alcove off Post Alley. Hell, I hate leaving her alone anywhere. Especially after seeing how much the crowds overwhelmed her.

We had to approach from the east. Her body isn’t ready for the hill climb yet. Or the tight space of the single elevator.

The alcove gives her a solid wall of stone at her back and sight lines for every approach vector. No cameras, and a quick exit—if she needs it.