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“Do you speak to them?”

She looked over at her father now, one eyebrow cocked. “Of course I speak. I’m masked, not mute.”

“Do you speak to them like this?” he asked, his voice dripping with scorn.

She smiled, the cut on her lips opening with the movement. “They’re well aware I’m a bitch.”

Douglas snorted. “What happens in these meetings?”

She shrugged. “I sit and listen to whatever Ludwig wants to discuss. They’re always different things.”

“Are his weapon providers still coming here in a week and a half?”

She stilled. “How do you know that?” Bridgette saw John step closer from the corner of her eye. She held out her hand to stop him.

“Don’t,” she warned.

“It doesn’t matter how I know,” Douglas said. “Just answer the question.”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Excellent. I think that’s all I need from her. John, transfer her to one of the holding cells until this is all complete.”

Bridgette looked over her shoulder at him. “Promise me she won’t be hurt while I’m gone.
Promise
.”

“Nothing will happen to her. When you’ve done what you’ve agreed to do, you can come right back here and pick her up.”

“Bridge?” Charlotte said, her voice panicked. Bridgette looked back at her to see her face paled. “What have you agreed to do? Where are you going?”

“I’m doing what I must in order to get us both away from all of this. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you here long.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. Please don’t go. Don’t do whatever he’s asking you to do.”

“I have to, Charlie. If I don’t, he’ll hurt you.”

“So let him,” she cried. “Who cares? It’s not worth it to get in bed with the devil.”

Bridgette shook her head sadly. “I can’t let them take you away from me again.” She stood up slowly and backed away. Charlotte struggled in her bindings, her eyes wild.

“I need someone on the inside for a little while,” said their father. She could hear the cockiness in his voice and it made her sick. “I can’t very well just send in someone random. But if it is someone they expect to see, someone who blends in, there won’t be any problems.”

Charlotte looked between them.

“The only person who is on the inside, close enough to the source of my problems, is you.” He walked closer, coming to stand beside Bridgette. “But obviously I can’t trust you, now can I? So I’ll need someone to take your place.” His hand landed heavily on her shoulder.

“No,” Charlotte whispered.

“She’s the only girl I know with eyes similar to yours. Hopefully no one will see the subtle differences, but so long as she keeps that mask on, I don’t see a problem.”

“Bridge, no,” Charlotte said. “They’ll figure it out. If they discover you, they’ll kill you.”

“Well then she’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Won’t you, Bridgette?”

Bridgette nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat as she read the horror in her sister’s eyes. You can do this, she told herself. She’d been telling herself that ever since her father explained the plan to her. It still sounded as weak to her as it did the first time she said it. You just need to keep your head down, and focused, she chanted. If she kept out of the way, no one would notice. At least, she hoped so.

“You’re going to get her killed!” Charlotte yelled.

Douglas Hatcher shook his head. “This is the perfect plan. Simple, easy, and effective. Just a quick switch, and it will all be over.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Twenty guys crowded into his apartment. Pete looked around, grateful for those who had chosen to stick by him, but nervous at the low number. Twenty wasn’t really a lot when going up against the hundreds Douglas had backing him. It would have to do though.

His father was still in the bedroom with Seamus, who had yet to regain consciousness. Things were so tense he really wasn’t sure what to do with himself. All he knew was that he needed to get Di…Charlotte back. The whole day had taken its toll on him. His nerves were shot. His body hummed with energy and no outlet. People were talking to him and he was responding without really hearing a word they said to him. It was all just a blur of activity. The whole time all he could really think about was that she loved him and he let her go.

“We’re ready to move when you are,” Trent said, coming up to stand beside him. Pete nodded absently. “Hey,” he said, nudging him. “Wake up, bro. We’ve got men, weapons, and a shit load of testosterone. Let’s go get your girls.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, his voice rough. “I’m just going to let da know. You get everyone outside.”

Pete turned and headed to the bedroom. His father was sitting on the bed beside Seamus.

“How is he?” he asked.

“His breathing is stable,” Michael said. “He has a pretty bad concussion, but I’ll keep an eye on him. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How are you?” he asked meaningfully.

“I’m…I’ve been better.”

He got up and walked closer. “I think you might have a concussion yourself, boy. How hard were you hit on the head?”

Pete reached back and fingered the egg sized lump on the back of his skull. “Hard enough to be knocked out, twice.”

“You need rest.”

“I’ll get it when I have Bridgette and Charlotte back.”

Michael grunted. “You love her?”

“Charlotte?” He nodded. “I think so,” he admitted.

“You think?”

“I know,” he said. “I’m going crazy not knowing what’s happening to her.”

His father smiled tenderly. “You’ve got that same look in your eyes when you talk about her that I used to when your mother was around. I know how hard it is to love someone that much. You never want anything to happen to them. You want to keep them close.”

“Da…”

He held up a hand to stop him. “I know, son. I know how you all feel about me holding on to her and the past. I’m not blind. I might be stupid, but I’m not blind. Perhaps now that you’ve found someone to love, you’ll understand how hard it is to just let that feeling go. You keep a good hold on her, boy. When you give someone a piece of your heart and they take it away with them, you never feel quite whole again.” Pete clamped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him gently. “I’ve wasted a lot of years, but that’s going to change now. I’ve buried my head in the sand too long. Douglas and his council are overstepping their boundaries. We didn’t start the rebellion so we could become our enemies. We wanted a better, peaceful life for our people. Douglas has lost sight of that.”

“Will you help us stop him now?” Pete asked, excitement and pride engulfing him.

Michael nodded. “I’m going to help any way I can. Now go get your girl and we’ll figure out our next steps. I’m going to take Seamus back to my place. It doesn’t feel right to stay here in the city. Meet me there when you’re done.”

Pete agreed, turning to leave. He stopped in the doorway, looking back as his dad sat back in his spot beside his best friend. “Da?” He looked up. “I love you.”

He nodded. “I love you too, son.”

The map led them through the old underground metro lines. Most of the tunnels had collapsed during the bombings, but it appeared some had been cleared enough for passage. Another one of Douglas’ secrets. Thankfully no one was posted inside them since twenty men walking through wasn’t exactly a quiet affair. They made their way to the spot his father had indicated – an emergency exit that lead them up to the streets, right in front of the church.

Pete was practically shaking when they found the place. All he wanted to do was rush in there, guns blazing, but he knew that wouldn’t be wise. Douglas didn’t go anywhere without a team of men. And even though they were all technically on the same side, he wouldn’t put it past them to shoot first. The lines now drawn were exceptionally blurry.

“What now?” Trent whispered. Garrett stood beside him, his face unusually grim.

“We walk in there like nothing is wrong,” he said, looking at each one of them. “If we come up to someone, don’t act like anything is off. Greet them how we normally would then secure them quickly. No killing. Just knock them out.”

“What if they’re not against us?” someone asked.

Pete shook his head. “We can’t stop to find out. It will only waste time, and we need to get in and out before they catch on to why we’re here.”

“What if the General is there?” Garrett said.

“He won’t be,” Tyler answered. Pete looked over at him. They had known each other for years, and there had been no doubt in his mind that Tyler would side with him if he asked. Pete trusted him. The man was only in his late twenties, but he had the confidence of someone much older. He wore his hair shaved close at the sides, longer on top. One side of his head was tattooed, as was most of his body. His eyes were green like Pete’s, but lighter and cold when he stared at you. The lower half of his face was covered in a thick beard that he’d been growing since they met. He moved from Scotland during the beginning of the war, and had been with them ever since. “He has a meeting with the council,” he said. “I heard them talking about it last night.”

“Good,” Pete said. “That’s one thing off our plate.” Even though all he really wanted to do was slam his fist into the man’s face, he thought silently. It would have to wait. The game was bigger now, and his moves had to be smart. “Let’s move.”

They entered the church from the side, heading directly toward the back door beside the alter where Michael had told them to go. The inside was full of dust and debris. From all outward appearances, completely abandoned. A small staircase led them underground to a low tunnel. Two guys stood halfway down, their bodies straightening when they heard their footsteps.

“Hey Rich,” Tyler called out. Pete kept to the back, in case they were on the lookout for him in particular. Pete saw them hesitate.

“Oh, hey man,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Douglas asked us to come by and relieve you guys from guard duty,” he said easily. “Figured you might get tired of watching the wee lasses.”

“He didn’t say anything to us about it,” said the other guy, Patrick.

“Well I guess it’s a surprise then,” he said, before moving swiftly to knock Patrick out. Rich started to lift his gun when Garrett stepped forward and hit him in the temple, knocking him out. “Surprise.”

“Good job,” Pete said. “Keep moving.”

They moved forward, meeting only two more guys before reaching the end of the hall. There was a door to the left that led into a small observation room. The window looked into another tiny room that held a single chair.

“Shit,” Garret said under his breath. Pete stepped closer, looking in. Dried blood splattered the ground around the chair, restraints hanging loosely from the arms and legs. “You don’t think…”

“No,” he said firmly. He could not believe the girls were killed. He
would not
believe it. “Search around for more rooms,” he said, turning around to look at the grim faces staring back at him. This was the only door they had found, but there had to be more. “We’re missing something. Everyone spread out and keep your eyes open.”

The thing that pissed her off the most right now, besides that she was locked in some dark, dank cell, was that they had taken her shoes. Who does that? Her feet were freezing as she paced the small confines. The stone was cold and slimy, and all she wanted was some sort of barrier between it and her soles. It was like some sort of evil torture practice. She was just wearing a bra and panties – that she could deal with. But her shoes?

The one guy they left to watch her, John stood against the door, his face blank as he watched her. She guessed he was chosen to stay since clearly he didn’t have a problem with hitting a girl. Asshole. Her body ached from his fists and she was pretty sure one of her ribs was bruised.

The good thing was she could actually move still. She needed to get out of here – fast. Bridgette was already on her way to headquarters dressed in Charlotte’s clothes. She couldn’t just stand by and let her sister take this risk. If Ludwig figured it out…she didn’t even want to think about it. Wrapping her arms around her shivering body, she kept up her pacing. Think, she ordered herself. She needed to find a way out of here. Her first problem was the manacle around her ankle that was chained to the wall. That was just the first. Then there was getting around fisticuffs over there, finding her way out of the building, possibly finding clothes, and then getting to headquarters before Bridge. Yeah…she was screwed.

“Do you think I could get a sweater?” she said, stopping to face him.

“Nope,” he said.

“Seriously?”

He gave her a bland look. “Seriously.”

She growled and started walking again, jumping a bit when she reached the end of the room just to keep moving, and then turning to walk back the other way. How long was she supposed to keep this up? By the time Bridge did whatever their father had forced her into, Charlotte was likely to die of pneumonia. That’s probably what he’s hoping for, she realized. The sounds of footsteps outside had her looking toward the exit. John’s brows drew together as he reached for his gun and opened the door to walk out into the hall. It shut behind him, muffling his voice as he spoke to whoever was there.