Page 111 of Dark Night of the Soul

This was about to be a trigger. And it was only adding fuel to her fire. I reached for her, took her hands in mine, gave them a light squeeze. She startled, looked up, the black receding instantly. She blinked, then she winced. The pain caught up to her.

“All this is doing is making you angrier,” I said. Tone even and calm.

“You’re damn right it is. He ruined my mother and me and—”

“I know,” I said softly.

Her breathing hitched again. I tightened my grip enough to keep her grounded.

She blew out a breath. “Okay. You’re right. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is he dies by my hand.”

She sat back in the chair, pulling her hands free and placing them in her lap. I watched her carefully.

“I’m all right,” she said.

She was still staring at the contents of the folder when she said, “That facility needs to be leveled.”

“One step at a time,” I said, taking the chair next to her.

I pulled the folder toward me, flipping through pages until I reached what mattered. The floor plan of that building, guard rotation, everything. Silas was always thorough.

“You’re not walking through the front door,” I said.

“Yes, I am.” Her voice was hard, even.

When I glanced up, her expression told me she wasn’t interested in negotiation. She wasn’t going to bend on this one. Pushing harder would only make her dig in. I adjusted instead.

“You’re trying to stop me,” she snapped.

“No, I’m trying to keep you alive,” I said.

She huffed, folded her arms across her chest.

I exhaled. She wasn’t backing down. Fine. If she was doing this, we’d do it smart.

I studied the floor plan and found Vormund’s office. Second level, northwest corner of the two-story building. I pushed the page toward her, tapping it.

“There’s his office.”

She leaned closer. “Corner office. Naturally. Pompous ass.”

I tried not to smile. “Elevators are centrally located.” I traced the diagram. “But the stairs are here—closer to his office.”

“Easy access,” she mused.

“Better than getting trapped in an elevator.”

She shuddered. “Yeah. I have history. Let’s not do that.” Her gaze moved from the stairs to the office, already mapping distance. “But for this to work, he has to be in there.”

“We’ll need surveillance,” I said. “Figure out his routine.”

She brightened. “Like a stakeout?”

“Yes,” I said.

“All right, so we figure that out and plan when to go in,” she said. “Then level the building after he’s dead.”

I lifted a brow. “And how are we supposed to do that?”