Redacted [h.s]

45.1

— the search

ZARA

"Don't do anything stupid."

Nialls words ring in my head as I do the absolute opposite: doing something extremely stupid.

Taking Niall's words into consideration, I waited and thought and made a strategic plan about the next course of action. I'm talking surveillance, blueprints, stakeouts, and more. I'd carried on about my days as if nothing was going on but all the while observing and planning and calculating. Waiting to strike.

But it's been alittle over a week. The longest days—which have been full of many dead ends—and while I didn't rely on it, waiting for the most logical, reasonable, safer, by the book, procedural and quite frankly, most legal option was no longer an option.

Leaving the house and out from under the watchful eye of my colleagues, and best friends, one of them being my partner. Lie about the reason I suddenly had to visit Francesca—because we hadn't hung out in a while and I needed a change of scenery. Find the go-bag that I'd stashed at Francesca's years ago, and then toss on a wig and a change of clothes before getting into my unregistered Honda tucked in the back of the parking garage. Successfully ditch the FBI agents at my house. Connect with Cas to confirm the details of where I needed to go. Drop off the Honda and swap it for a mini van tucked away at an abandoned farm. Drive to a secluded warehouse to meet with a group of people—some I'm only vaguely familiar with—fully trusting them to embark on this search and rescue mission.

Each step involved a little deception and an increase in stupidity. Which ultimately led to this moment and will lead to more moments that will fall under the doing something absolutely extremely fucking stupid category. What did Niall say? Kicking doors down, guns blazing? Yeah. Sure... but in a smart way.

Mindlessly and out of habit to ease my nerves, I rub the area where Sophie's ring typically decorates my pointer finger. Along with a brief note and both of my phones—I can't risk being tracked, can I?— the ring rests on the bedside table. Part of a drunken promise in the dorms of the Academy that Niall would give it back to her in the event that something happens to me.

My body bounces when the black, inconspicuous on the outside but suped-up on the inside van that I'm riding in goes over a pothole or something. It's one of two vans decked out with weapons, ammo, secure high technology and anything else needed for an off-book search and rescue.

Resting against the wall behind me, my gaze moves from the small window of winding road that's visible to the nameless people, ghosts, who are only currently identified by names of cities or countries used as codenames—Cas is on another Money Heist binge and suggested it—who agreed to join me on this mission. No, not because we have any kind of relationship but only obviously for a fee.

I had to call in a few favors, from reliable connections, for them. It didn't take long due to my glowing reputation and my remarkable personality. Sure, working with Liz taught me that fear can get you things but so does being a decent person. People like me didn't hesitate to help. Luckily, these former military, paramilitary, assassins, explosive experts, tech geniuses, and whatever else, signed up.