Page 54 of Pretty Little Assassin

And it is cold in here.

That part I like. Cold means less sweating, and sweat is how you find the people who are lying. And we have infiltrated with our own little band of merry liars.

Tonight, we are all in red, like chum in the water, waiting for the sharks to come. I’m pretty sure I won’t have to wait long.

The plan is simple. I keep Johnson’s attention on me while Donnie searches the private feeds for the omega from his video. Zero stays close enough to intervene, and Viktor remains invisible until we know where the hostage is.

An extraction team and a medic are waiting in an unmarked van two blocks east. Once she’s safe, Stepdaddy dies.

Zero talks and mingles, laughs a few times too. That’s harder for her to fake than pulling off the red dress. Regardless, she fits. Alpha status, dressed to the nines.

Not one of them knows she has three lethal weapons within arm’s reach.

Four, if you count the shoes.

“What’s going on in there?”

Donnie’s voice comes through my earpiece, sounding louder than I’m comfortable with. His tech is foolproof 99.9% of the time. I know no one around me can hear him or see the wire. The volume still prickles my skin, though.

“Why is everybody so quiet?” he asks when I don’t respond right away. “All I can hear is Zero’s fake laughter, Viktor’s heavy breathing, and a whole lot of alphas offering you drinks.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like quiet, then does it?” I tease him as I tuck my mouth behind my hand and pretend to be wiping wine off my lips.

“I am not breathing heavily,” Viktor says, annoyed. “I’m being perfectly normal.”

Honestly, it’s hard not to stifle a laugh at that claim. The Wraith, perfectly normal? Not a fucking chance. I doubt Viktor can achieve normal status even on a good day.

Zero’s face tightens ever so slightly. She doesn’t like us using communications for shit like this. Keep things clean, tight, no veering off script. That’s her usual mantra, and she’s not wrong.

“Everything is fine, Donnie; keep the line clear. You’re hearing everything that we do. We’re all connected, and the venue is as nauseatingly thick with alpha pheromones as expected.”

Viktor let out a small, aggravated exhale at my remark.

“Excuse me, boys,” I say to the small herd of alphas that have gathered around me like a magnet. “I think I’m going to go change my drink.”

One of them starts talking and trying to offer to get it for me, but I’ve slipped well into the crowd before he gets the chance. Another almost makes the mistake of reaching out to touch my arm. Thankfully, I dodge it, making it look like I innocently didn’t see him extend his hand, and I don’t need to blow my cover to break his arm.

I weave through the pockets of socializing until I’m standing in front of Viktor. I can hear Zero choking back a scolding without her having to say a damn thing. I’m not blowing cover. I’m simply testing out how well the cover holds.

Besides, I actually did want to change my drink.

“Champagne?” Viktor asks, holding the tray closer so I can take a goblet. He’s really trying to play his part. To his credit, he’s doing a good job. His size still raises a few eyebrows. Even for an alpha, he’s bigger than most. But he’s got the full waiter garb on, is sticking to corners of the ballroom behind innocuous crowds of guests, and staying away from those who might clock him. He’s good at this, keeping to the shadows, staying silent and unseen. It fits with what I’ve heard about him. And honestly, it’s rather impressive to see it in action.

A room full of alphas. Some of them Primacy, certainly.

And Viktor—scarred, inked, the size of a door—moves through it unnoticed. Wraithlike.

I guess I’m not the only one really fucking good at what I do.

“Alright,” Donnie says over the comm. “I’ve hacked into the security cameras.”

Zero has already moved from one little gathering of socialites to another, working her way through the crowd as a tactical way to survey the land.

I take my champagne glass and start to move through the room. I catalogue threats in real time and compare them with what Donnie sees through the camera feed.

“That one, to your right,” he says. “Primacy operative.”

I already knew that. Some of them aren’t as good at blending in as others. Honestly, Madam would have a fit if the VEIL assets were as sloppy as some of these guys.