Della sincerely hoped that they weren’t going to be making a habit out of these family dinners. She missed eating alone. She missed being alone. It was overwhelming on all accounts, as a former only child, as a self-proclaimed social recluse, and as a war survivor with little human interaction outside of her job. Even then she had considered kicking out sick people on more than one occasion. She never went through with it, as she didn’t want to be held accountable for their inevitable death and she didn’t want to compromise her heavy influx of clientele, but she often had thoughts that it wouldn’t take much to get away with it. After all, how fast could an injured or dying person run, how far could they go, how long would they realistically last. No one would have dared to turn her in.

“I’m not hungry,” she lied, immediately wanting to trade it in for a better excuse to leave. A more believable one.

            “When’s the last time you ate something?” Kayden asked, testing her dismissal.

            Della didn’t answer. The plate in front of her was abundant, and oh was it enticing. Part of it was already bound to go untouched, as there were two stacks of bacon and sausage, and she hadn’t consumed any meat in well over three years. It appeared that her and Fletcher were the only ones among them who upheld the Green war standard of cutting animal products from their diets to promote a more sustainable method of agriculture. Her preferences as of late were more influenced by her skepticism of the meat supply, the convenience of obtaining and storing plants, and their superior nutritional value. The others took what they could get, and she couldn’t blame them for it. Few were in a position to discriminate against food any further than classifying it as edible or inedible.

            Della pushed around her pile of roasted potatoes, mashing them down with her fork. The smell of lemon and rosemary made her mouth water. “I don’t trust them.”

            Fletcher chuckled bitterly. He sat opposite from her. The breakfast area was set up in resemblance of a cafeteria, organized with each group of five sharing their own separate table. His inhibitions had caved about ten minutes prior. Now he was on his second helping, shoving whole chunks of cantaloupe into his mouth until his cheeks stretched out. “Like you’re the authority on trust.”

            “What is that supposed to mean?”

            “You shot me,” he incontestably stated.

            “And yet,” Della leaned forward in her seat, a menacing twitch playing on the arch of her left eyebrow, “Here you are.”

            Carver clapped sarcastically. It was the first time the fork had left his hand since they sat down. “Hey there we go, now we’re making leeway.”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Obviously, that’s impossible with her,” Fletcher bit back.

            “The least you could do is try to play nice for five minutes,” Carver told him. His patience with anything else was questionable, but his patience with Fletcher was a feat. “She did save my life after all.”

            “Like hell she did. I bet she isn’t even a real doctor, she can’t be any older than the rest of us.” The first part of his statement was undebatable. She took no credit for the marvels of this post-modern variant of medicine. The second part, however, Della couldn’t wait to correct.

            “I’m not a young doctor because I’m not qualified, I’m a young doctor because I’m intelligent.”

            “Last time I checked, being intelligent doesn’t make you a doctor.”

            Della bit back a remark about having gone through more schooling than him no matter how he wanted to slice it, knowing that it would sever her thin ties to betray Tucker’s trust. Allies could come in handy, even if they were formed from fear on behalf of the other party. She knew that her likeability index was on the low side, so Tucker was looking more and more valuable by the minute.

“No, but a Doctor of Medicine degree does.” Della relaxed back in her seat to a posture that would appear perfect to anyone else but felt like a daring slump in her mind. “I skipped sixth grade, graduated two years early from high school, and one year early with my Bachelors in Biochemistry. All for your information, not that you deserve it, but I do enjoy a bit of boasting when the time is right.” Of course, she was in no desperate need of a confidence boost.

Fletcher found himself sufficiently silenced, along with the rest of the table, and for a moment everything appeared to be looking up now that she could finally slide escape planning to the forefront of her mind. Cautiously, she brought a fork full of potato to her lips, biting off the slightest piece with a savory crunch, and then shortly inhaling the rest. From that point, all of her reserve fled, as she realized just how hungry she had gotten.

“I’m so glad to see that you’re finally indulging, Ms. Maguire,” Novak’s voice, unpleasant of an intrusion as it always seemed to be, wafted in from behind her like a saccharine smoke.

“Doctor,” she corrected, shooting Fletcher a pointed look to cement her victory. “Doctor Maguire.”

“Of course,” his eyes shifted around the table, stirring. “As soon as you’re done, if you’d care to accompany me to the left wing for your group conference this morning.”

“If I’d care not to do so?” she challenged.

He tucked his gloved hands into the flowing sleeves of his cloak. His eyes spoke threats while his smile offered invitations. “Then I’d care to remind you of my hospitality and limited patience.”

“Lead the way then, boss.” Della kicked back her chair as she stood up and sent the porcelain dishes clattering to the ground with one clean yank of the tablecloth as she dabbed at her chin with the corner of it. Childish, perhaps, but the therapeutic sound of broken glass crunching beneath her boots as she circled the table to join Novak brought a smirk to her face. At the very least it was payback for her living room window.

She expected the reaction, the blank stares of shock, the whispering. She was used to it after the small-town locals back home exchanged their tales and their gossip of how she was a devil, a witch, a man-eater, a member of the mafia, and most horrifically of all, a liberal feminazi. These people cast the same judgement upon her, hardly knowing her name as she hardly knew any of theirs, and she fought not to confuse them further by bursting into laughter at what a cosmic joke her life had become. Here she stood, thought to be insane by people who were obliviously and contently being bought by injectable invincibility and a couple of platters of home cooking.

Disregarding her act of ruthless defiance with a smile, Novak addressed the men at her table, who appeared to want nothing more than to be disassociated from Della’s tantrums. “Come along.”

Della’s response was mute, her exit was polished, and her head was high upon her shoulders as she allowed herself to be led to the conference room, all the while discretely surveying the other doors. The bigger the building, the bigger the room for error.

She practiced a small amount of compliance and sat in her assigned chair, extending a leg in an attempt to trip Novak and make a break for it only after she noticed the second man on the outside of the room who was preparing to lock them in. Novak expertly stepped over it, smiling facetiously. His smug expression twisted knots in her stomach, threatening to sour what little she had eaten.

“Now, let’s begin.” Novak folded his hands together and laid them on the table. “On account of Mr. Witten’s unexpected illness, we have lost a bit of time. But, I believe we will be able to accelerate the schedule without any complications. The Reformation must not be rushed, but I’ve taken it that you are all quick learners judging by the several stunts you have pulled while under our supervision, hmm?”

“At least one of us is,” Fletcher spoke the reference coolly under his breath.

Della did not make a move to look at his sly smile, but she could feel it.

“We did not want to risk any rebellious behavior, so the contracts in front of you already bear your signatures.”

She looked down at the thick paper packet, at her impeccably forged signature. Curved dramatically on the D and pointed sharply at the peaks of both L’s, just as she would have done. As if whoever had created it was possessed by her hand. What no longer surprised her now triggered a fuming heat within her chest. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“A formality. Of course. We would like to start off in good standing in the new world by continuing to honor the value of the written word. In this case, only if it is of benefit to the cause. Surely you can understand?” If there was any emotion omitted from the intense scowl on Della’s face, he would have unraveled it with his stare.

            Novak continued without waiting for acknowledgement. “If you’ll flip through those pages, make quick note of a few things. Salary breakdowns are on page eleven, section seven. We will be providing any accommodations you may require during your stay here, as well as covering boarding and meal arrangements during the Grand Tour.”

            “The Grand Tour?” Kayden interjected.

            “Please, hold any questions you may have until we are done reviewing paperwork.” Novak shot him an oversaturated smile. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes…”

            His voice bled into the walls of the conference room as they pressed into Della’s body from all angles. Terms of employment, non-negotiable. Responsibilities and failure to uphold, inexcusable. Completion of training, mandatory. Timeline of service, undetermined. Termination of service. Termination of server. Server error. Permanent. All she retained was the final word. Permanent. Permanent. Permanent.

            Della zoned herself out of the lecture for its entirety. She was fully intending on escaping and finding the first ride service back home before any of it would apply to her, and if not, she was prepared to die for her dignity. It didn’t cross her mind that it could be valuable to pay attention. Not until her eyes trailed up from the second, larger packet of paper that had been placed in front of her and saw that everyone else’s were on her. Were they waiting for her to say something? Do something? Entertain them?

            Novak frowned. “Now Ms. Maguire, I’m going to have to ask that you remain an engaged member of this team.”

            Doctor,” she corrected once again. Maybe the title would remind him that she was far more than a toddler to be scolded at the expense of her pride and sanity. If only he could remember it.

            Then he was laughing. Another switch of personality in a matter of seconds. With every blink, he was wearing a different expression, a different smile, a different face altogether, and the most unsettling part was that none of them appeared to be real. “You’re a clever one, I admire that about you,” Novak admonished. “You know, some members of the team had their doubts about you. They thought you were too headstrong, too rebellious, too unstable, but I never did. I always knew you would make a great addition.”

            Della felt like the prize find in his trophy case of human pets, which was only one step above feeling like a collectible in the first place. She stifled a “Gee, thanks” and grabbed the contract, ripping it down the middle and open handedly flinging it towards him. If either of them could die, she would have given her life to kill him.

            She must have told another joke unintentionally, because the smile remained plastered on Novak’s face. If they weren’t titanium-grade his teeth would have been the first thing she knocked out. “You will soon realize your place here.”

            Della slammed a fist on the table and stood up, “My place is not here.” She hated it on the flipside. On the bottom of the hierarchy. She knew that it didn’t matter how tall she stood or how loud she screamed, no one would see her and no one would listen.

            “You are destined for something greater, Ms. Maguire.” Novak sidestepped toward her and clamped a hand down over her fist. She made a motion to pull away but his grip kept her stationary, staring into the ambiguity in his eyes. “Can’t you see?”

            All she saw was a mentally deranged cult leader. She opened her mouth to correct him for the third time that morning, yanking harder on her arm until he released her, but he cut her off in anticipation.

            “You are no longer a doctor, Della.” Her first name bubbled from his mouth with a sourness that she could almost taste. “You are so much more.”

            Della stepped backwards but her voice reached out to him in anger. “I will not be a part of this.”

            Novak moved to stand in front of her, his footsteps inaudible. For a moment, the only sound was the shuffle of his robes trailing behind him, and then it was completely silent as his eyes bore into her own. At times they appeared clear, when he lost control of the temper within them. That was the translucence Della saw in them when he spoke to her now, his voice raised barely above a whisper but loud enough to echo in her mind. “You will do as you’re told.”

            “I will do as I desire.” She knew his intentions, but refused to fear him. Intimidation was power, she was familiar with that fact. She moved closer, nearly knocking her forehead against his own. “And you are kidding yourself if you think you can change that by locking me up here.”

            She felt the eyes on the two of them but hers remained locked to Novak’s even as she was hit with the strange pang of other people worrying on her behalf. Even back when she held the concern of a select few people it was never a noticeable feeling, and never a conflict like it was now. She didn’t know whether to be grateful for the back up or offended that they would think she needed it in the first place.

            Novak pried his stare from Della’s and made a smooth motion towards the door, plastering the grin on his face once again as he nodded to each of them. “Unfortunately, I must be leaving. Important business to attend to, of course. I’ll be seeing you all soon.”

            Della eased up as soon as he was out of sight, but only slightly. After a few deep breaths she collected her anger and divided her attention amongst the four others. “I can’t do this.”

            Fletcher’s voice sounded from the left, cracking at first after it had remained unused for the entirety of their meeting. “Trust me princess, some of us are just as happy about it as you are.”

            Without a second thought she laid a solid palm across his cheek with a resounding smack. She knew he would be able to feel nothing more than the humiliation, but he was treading all over an unmarked danger zone. Now that Novak had left, fighting with Fletcher could once again take precedence.

            “Don’t start,” Kayden rubbed at his eyes. “We don’t have the time to deal with this right now.”

            “Oh, I could take care of this very quickly if not for that damn vaccine they gave us,” Fletcher argued. He regarded Della with a cool indifference, but the vein that jutted from his tensed throat was presenting a different attitude.

            “Don’t act like it’s the first time a girl ever slapped you, Fletch,” Carver jested.

            If anyone was intending to laugh at the joke, they had changed their minds upon seeing Kayden’s tortured expression. Della was beginning to hate herself for casting the meeting aside. If it was getting to Kayden like this, it was worse than she had imagined.

They agreed to meet up again after finding their way back to their rooms and changing into cleaner clothing. The arrangement hadn’t been Della’s idea, but she needed to catch herself up not only on what game changer had just been laid out on the table, but also on the layout of the building. The others seemed to be more accustomed to the halls than Fletcher or her were, given that they were granted more freedom in exchange for their cooperation. She watched as Carver’s eyes trailed her new get up with unvoiced laughter. Snake skin print wasn’t her usual go to, but at least they were pants.

            “Do you have something to say?” she snapped. “Any of you?”

            There it was, the laugh. Followed by three other ones. “Lookin’ good, Del,” Carver teased.

            She rolled her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

            The four of them appeared so out of character in normal clothing. She knew it was because she hadn’t seen anyone so polished in several years, but it still reminded her of the occasional night when she would run into a professor at her favorite old bar downtown and find them chatting away in casual clothing.

Carver wore a striped tank and a pair of very fitted navy pants. Kayden dressed far less professionally than she would have expected, but then again, he must have gotten sick of the suit and tie style around the time when it was no longer a part of his career. Probably also around the time he decided to get his ear pierced. He wore a red V-neck and ripped jeans.

Tucker appeared in his element for the first time since she had met him, with a trucker cap pinning down the half of his hair that wasn’t shaved and shielding his eyes when he wished to remain off the radar. He blended himself into the background behind shades of dark green and black. Fletcher looked normal, even friendly if it weren’t for his deprecating tilt of his lips, in a white button down and acid wash jeans.

            “Where should we go? We should probably discuss this in private,” Tucker brought up.

            Della scanned the hallway back and forth. “Let’s walk. We’ll never find a way out if we can’t find our way around.”

            Kayden shrugged. “I’m not sure if that will do any good either, but I suppose it’s worth a shot. We do have a couple hours left before they’ll come looking for us.”

            “What is this training they have planned anyways?” Della questioned as they swept the hall again.

            Fletcher’s eyes lingered on the door to the passing music room before he was the one to answer. “For someone who wants to escape so badly you sure don’t pay attention.” He raked his fingers through his hair and smirked. “But since you’re so intelligent I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

            Kayden smacked his friend a notch too hard on the back. “All kinds of things,” he answered in Fletcher’s place. “There’s a weapons workshop. One without the weapons. There’s public speaking, law memorization and enforcement, political science, geography and geology, critical reasoning, criminal procedure, psychology, writing. The works. I’m sure you could even think of it an imaginary degree to add to your collection.”

            “Sounds like this’ll be a breeze for you,” she tossed back the lightly passive aggressive humor.

            “No.” He shook his head in contemplative disappointment. “This content is very different from anything I ever studied.”

            And that was not an understatement whatsoever.  Of all the memories Della had of school, and she had many, none of them were this terrible. That included the private Baptist junior high she had attended for a semester after moving when the enrollment was filled at the local public school. Corporal punishment had been abundant, and Della had encouraged it frequently with the help of her unfiltered mouth, but she would accept that yard stick whooping any day of the week if it could take the place of these horrors.

It was a nightmare. Worse than a nightmare, given the fact that it was real, but Della couldn’t accept the fact that she was really living through it. Notes, there were packets upon packets of notes. Surely more than she had ever written in graduate school, but the notes paled in comparison to the other study materials they had been provided with at the end of their session with Novak and his counsel. Before her was a rough draft of their newly constructed constitution, a checklist of proposed laws to be discussed at a later date, a mission statement, and an anthem that looked like a cross between a church hymn and her high school alma mater.

Della looked over at Kayden, feeling some relief to know that he was equally dumbfounded by everything they were taught that day. Eight hours of schooling on post-apocalyptic politics later and even the lawyer had no clue what was going on.

“You were right.” Kayden sat up upon noticing her attention. He pulled his hair back from his face with his fists. “This is insane.”

Della had never been one to say “I told you so”, but the temptation was certainly present. “Yep,” she said instead, popping the p.

“I mean for Christ’s sake, I don’t know if you’ve read through this or if you know what they’re talking about here,” he flipped through the pages with a practiced speed until he found the one in reference and smashed down on the section with his index finger like he was squashing a bug. “But they want complete control.”

Tucker examined his thumbs. “I thought he said–”

“I don’t remember what he said, and I don’t care. This is what’s happening. They don’t want us to represent anything, they want us to do their dirty work. We’re just an extension of this organization. Exactly what Della was saying, a face for their make-believe vision of a world where, and I quote,” Kayden slid his papers back and lowered his head to recite the mantra on the first page. “‘All will find equality, unity, and integrity.’”

“Well that doesn’t sound too bad,” Carver chimed in, his mouth slanted.

“Oh sure, it sounds wonderful. If you ignore the part of the plan where every aspect of human life will be controlled by one man and those who fail to ‘remain loyal and active in the efforts of the Reformation’ will be ‘terminated upon accusation’.”

“Well gosh, I’m glad we have you here because I must’ve skipped over all of that,” Carver rubbed the back of his neck, growing quieter.

“So back to my plan then,” Della interjected, energized by the prospect of finally having the support to get out. “We need to start thinking of an escape route.”

“No, we don’t,” Fletcher interrupted.

“What?” she seethed. “Did you not hear anything that’s been going on? We have to find a way out of here before we’re trapped.”

Carver looked sideways at Fletcher and for once his joviality was subdued. “Yeah, I hate to burst your bubble Fletch, but I’m not too keen on the idea of hanging around here with Commander Cuckoo when this shitstorm passes through.”

“No, I mean that we need to shut it down. If we leave, they’ll most likely find us again just like they managed to find us the first time. And if they don’t find us, then this will all carry on anyways, just without our help.” Fletcher looked down and inhaled deeply. “I don’t like the way things are now any more than anyone else, and I don’t know what to do to make them better. But what I do know is that they are better off broken than fixed incorrectly. Whatever these people do to this country is going to remain intact until somebody else comes along with more money and more power, and the way things are looking right now, that won’t be happening anytime soon.”

Shocked by his maturity and tactical wisdom, Della kept her mouth shut. The commendation she was giving him internally was enough to antagonize her as it was.

Kayden’s expression was heated. She could tell that the anger wasn’t directed at any of them but it was still unsettling to see it break his composure. He locked into Fletcher’s absent stare. “But you’ve seen what they’re capable of. They’re stronger, they’re crazier, and most importantly, they’ve kept us in the dark.”

Dead air filled in the cracks of their conversation, settling and expanding for the longest time as they all remained preoccupied with their many thoughts. No one knew how many minutes passed in that dimly lit lounge room before Fletcher spoke again.

“Well we need to figure out what’s going on then.” He paused. “We can find a way. These people might be thorough but they aren’t perfect, and we’ve done plenty of investigative work before.”

Kayden’s eyes rolled upward as he shook his head and hung it into his hands again. “They still have more power. There’s only five of us.”

“No,” This time it was Tucker who interrupted. The other four were almost too surprised by his assertive tone to notice the epiphany playing out on his face. “There’s twenty-five of us.”

A smile broke through Della’s firmly pressed lips and she could see her praise reflect in the pools of his deep brown eyes. “That’s certainly an idea.”

“It is,” Kayden conceded, equally impressed by the prospect but still apprehensive. “But how are we supposed to use that to our advantage when we don’t even know these people? When we can’t trust them?”

“We don’t have to trust them.” The thoughts were now tumbling through Della’s mind, accumulating rapidly. “People are followers, if they see others doing something they assume that it’s normal so they accept it and go along with it. Maybe they’re only sticking around because they feel like they have no other option. Better yet, maybe they’re even looking for a way out themselves.”

“What if they aren’t?” Kayden asked. “It seems like a gamble. A big one.”

“Sometimes that’s what it takes,” Della said. She never thought that she would be the one to convince another person to be more group-oriented, but the power of quantity in this case was undeniable. Especially when the commodity was a set of twenty other smart, highly skilled individuals. “We need the man-power if we’re planning on taking out a following this large and this organized. Think about it. Think about the damage you could have done against the Defense if you only had the numbers. We just have to play the cards right. We need to get a feel for where everyone stands before we say too much. If they’re half as competent as Novak has made them out to be then I’m sure they’ll be in the same mindset.”

“I get what you’re saying but I don’t think we should get too attached to this plan. I think it would be a horrible mistake to underestimate the grasp that Novak and the Reformation could have these people under. They’re convincing, they’re generous, and they strike a hard bargain. We have no clue what the others are being threatened or bribed with.” Kayden’s point was irrefutable.

Della looked at him for a lasting moment in consideration while she calmed the inner high of theorizing her journey back home. It was difficult not to grow a little overzealous at the thought of getting rid of her captors and restoring her life to the greatest amount of normalcy possible. She was beginning to see why these men enjoyed throwing themselves into similar situations back home, playing the role of justice in an unfair world. “We can take it at a slower pace. The way they talked about it tonight it seems we have several months before the system is implemented. You make a fair point of course, this will only pay out if it’s done under the radar and with everyone on the same page at the right time.”

“I say we start tonight,” Fletcher proposed. “It shouldn’t be difficult to gather a meeting. Novak is too busy dealing with whatever world domination mojo he’s working on to stick around with his pets after dinner.”

“I don’t know, I think we have some other things to consider first,” Kayden blew out a deep breath, rifling through the paperwork in his hands. “We can’t jump into it. Let me just look over everything in full. Get a better feel for it. We need to understand these people to understand what exactly they’re up to.”

“Agreed,” Della filled in before anyone else could protest. It was better to keep things concise, as their whereabouts were hardly private when they didn’t even know what room they were in. “We need to head back,” she took a look over her shoulder at the approaching figures down the hall.

 “What? Why?” Carver asked.

Fletcher slapped a hand over his friend’s mouth before her had the chance to say anything incriminating and nodded towards the doorway, picking up on the direction of Della’s gaze.

“Meet me in my room in an hour,” she spoke quickly before exiting the room, ignoring whatever sly comment Carver had supplemented her demand with. She walked briskly, aggressively brushing the shoulder of one of the cloaked men as she passed them. A deep breath dropped from her lips when she heard the others’ footsteps scatter inconspicuously in separate directions.

Once inside the room she fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling in between reading the notes and trying to interpret them with the same speed and accuracy as Kayden, to no avail. Giving up, she grabbed some snacks from the chest and blew through a bag of shredded coconut and a can of pistachios before she realized how much she had eaten and how much time had passed. An urgent knock rapped on her door, and she hurried to answer it, automatically assuming the worst as she had learned how to do.

Della recognized the face, although it hadn’t been any of the ones she was expecting to see. “What are you doing here?”

Jamiyah pushed her way through the door and slammed it behind her. “I need to talk to you.”

“You need to get the hell out of my room is what you need to do,” Della’s fist curled instinctively against her thigh, but it remained there. The look on Jamiyah’s face was far different from the welcoming expression she wore on the day they had been introduced. She was out of breath, flustered, and visibly flushed even under the darkness of her skin. At the very least it was enough to allow her to be taken seriously.

Ignoring her demand, the other woman continued. “You aren’t one of the followers.”

Della raised an eyebrow. Maybe things would fall in line more easily than she had planned for. “I’m not. You’re not?”

“It’s a long story,” Jamiyah sighed but it was masked by the clanging of her bangles as she ruffled the vibrant ropes of her hair. “My brother was recruited for the Reformation a year ago. The name’s Harley Wayland, I don’t know if you’ve heard of him yet but you’ve definitely seen him. He’s moved up the ranks quite a bit since he was brought here.”

“And?” Della pressed.

“And I’m here to break him out.”

Della didn’t know how to take the news. Maybe Jamiyah had been right after all, maybe they would get along. Maybe they did have a great deal in common. At the very least it would seem that they were working towards a common goal. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“I heard you all talking in the hallway. I apologize for eavesdropping, but I was looking for you, to talk to you, and after I listened in for a while I found out that you all were looking for a way out too. It just seemed too perfect to be true. I didn’t want to ruin it by interrupting.” Jamiyah hardly looked apologetic, but her determination did do wonders to ease Della’s skepticism. The woman was a fantastic actress, that much was apparent, but some things just couldn’t be faked.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Della folded her arms over her chest and kicked back against the wall.

“I don’t know, all I know is that something is really messed up here, and the longer you stay the stranger it gets. Harley didn’t know what he was in for. They told him it was an association, a club, not a scheme,” she began. “I kept contact with him through it, and while its always been vague, I know that they did things to him that I could never take back. We tried to figure out a way to get him out for months, but not even he knows where we are, so I insisted on helping him out myself. He’s Novak’s right-hand man, so he had a little bit of influence and pulled some strings to get me and the others here.”

“The others?” Della inquired, failing to mask the hopefulness of her tone.

“Aren’t in on it, for the most part,” Jamiyah smiled sadly, close-lipped and directed towards the ground. “But Mac, Sera, Lamon, Ama, they all know. They all came here with me.”

Della battled with the smile that spread on her face from the only good news she had heard in years. Thankfully, she won, but only at the expense of contorting her mouth into a crooked frown. Another series of knocks on her door relieved her of the tension as she turned her back on Jamiyah and went to answer it.

“Is that happiness?” Carver immediately asked upon seeing her. He pointed to her face in scrutiny. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say–” his eyes shifted to Jamiyah and then widened, a sarcastic glint dancing in circles around the blue. “Woah, okay, I didn’t have you pegged as that kind of a girl.”

Five seconds too late, Della caught on to the nature of his implication. She scowled. “Can you shut up and take this seriously for five minutes? That’s all I need.”

Kayden stepped up in front of him and elbowed him solidly in the gut. “He will. I’ll make sure of it. What’s going on?”

“This is Jamiyah, and she’s in.” Della introduced the other woman briefly, recounting all she had learned within the past ten minutes of talking to her newly made alliance. They were all arranged on the floor, cross-legged, reclined, upright, and otherwise comfortable in the presence of another group outside of their own that had maintained some level of sanity.

“This is great,” Tucker remarked. It was obvious that he took pride in delivering a useful idea, so Della didn’t want to be the one to burst his bubble.

Fletcher, of course, had no such reservation. “Sure, but we’re still in the same place we were before. No plan, just more people. We should do a little bit more exploring now that we know someone who can get us behind some of the doors.”

Jamiyah frowned. “Not even Harley is allowed in most of those rooms. Novak is the only one with the master key.”

They sat for a moment in consideration before Della looked up, both stoic and sinister. “Well then we’ll just have to steal it.”

The idea was met by more disapproval than she would have anticipated. Jamiyah, in particular, was stunned by the idea of crossing such a powerful man. “How on earth do you think we could do that?”

Della traded glances with the guys, a silent reminder as much as it was a blaring command. “Would you like to tell her how much money you’ve stolen from other cult leaders and members?”

She watched as Kayden’s features made the almost undetectable shift from neutral to poker face. His eyes glistened as they normally did when he was presented with the challenge of being called out. “Enough,” he said simply.

“But that was nothing like this,” Tucker added, shying back. His aspirations of revolt were hindered, as always, by his aspirations to avoid conflict.

Della pressed on. “Who was entrusted with the thievery itself? I must have failed to ask before.”

“It was a group effort,” Kayden insisted, and although his face was straight, his statement had already given it away. Only one of them would have preferred to be shielded rather than step up and claim their substantial achievement. By the look on Tucker’s face, he already knew what was running through her mind.

“I can’t say I expected that one,” Della told him. It was a phrase she rarely, if ever, uttered. “But I can say that you have quite the knack for larceny.”

Tucker gulped. “Yeah. It was a party trick I picked up in college. To impress girls.”

“Consider this girl impressed,” Della smiled as much as she was capable of smiling, though her attempts often came across as menacing.

He remained quiet and glanced quickly at Kayden.

Della followed his eyes and then diverged downward to take another look at Kayden’s watch, wondering if Tucker had been the one to obtain that as well. “This is how this is going to work then. You’ll get the key, and we’ll take care of the rest.” She checked for a visible agreement from everyone else, finding that it was reluctant but still present. In her mind, the nature of the compliance wasn’t ever relevant. A yes was a yes, and sometimes even a no – if the subject was of any significance to her – would serve as a yes as well.

“You say that like it’s no big deal,” Tucker grumbled, the slightest amount of defiance ignited in his eyes.

“Apparently for you it isn’t.”

Della knew that the real problem wasn’t the action, it was the consequences. Novak Valenciano had proven twice over, day in and out, that he was a complete wildcard. He could have a temper, he could be forgiving, he could be irrational, or he could be generous, but no matter what he happened to be at the time he was always in charge.

Kayden regarded his friend with sympathy, but didn’t lift a finger in protest. “You know you’ll be fine. You’ve done this a hundred times. More, probably.”
            Not yet acclimated to the idea of Tucker as a con artist, Della laid a comforting touch on his shoulder and fought the repulsion from her face. Sensitivity was a wretched emotion, even if she was only pretending to possess it. Knowing that the others could probably tell that her display was ingenuine, she retracted the hand and let out the breath she had been holding unknowingly.

“Come on then,” Della stood up, pulling Tucker to his feet along with her. “We have an invincible dictator to pickpocket.”