Deep breaths.
Seven had taught that if you want to concentrate enough, start with deep breaths and tune everything out.
No matter what happened or what one heard, it was imperative not to break the concentration.
While my late father tried not to expose me to violence, Seven did the opposite. He told me the harsh reality, and to be honest, he did not need to convince me.
I was a living victim of that cruel truth.
"Who are you?"
Jace whispered beside me. His breaths were coming in short ragged ones, only to be cut off by him having to fight off the few men left after I helped him out.
I refused to get distracted.
I couldn't read his expression as I had blindfolded myself to conceal my identity.
Unlike the superheroes or villains in comics or movies, I had no costume ready for things like this.
I was lucky to find a big hanky in my bag. It wasn't newly laundered, but, well, I needed something.
