Nikita purses her cracked lips. “Right. Okay, well, I’ve got no proof about who took me.”
“But you have a guess.”
“Same guess you must have.” Her voice hardens on those words. It tells me we’re on the same page about this.
Only one common enemy turns her tone to ice like that.
“One W down,” I tell her solemnly. “Four more to go.”
“I remember where I was taken,” she says, deep in thought. “I was following a lead. I’d been getting reports of homelesspeople disappearing without a trace, all in a single area.”
“Yeah,” she frowns. “How’d you know?”
She doesn’t seem particularly surprised or even offended. “Oh, cool. I forgot you installed that.”
Nikita is infamous for her ability to get lost in a glass of water. Once, she went hiking and dropped off the grid for a w
