I went back down the stairs and into the briefing room. Everyone looked up as I walked in, but I ignored them, focused only on Erin. “Do you really want to do this?” I asked.

She looked at the floor for a moment, debating. She looked so small, so vulnerable, that I almost changed my mind.

Then she looked up at me and nodded. Small, but brave beyond words.

“Okay then,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “Let’s do this.”

18. Erin

18

ERIN

The next morning, everyone was at The Factory soon after dawn. We had one day to give me a crash course in how to be a soldier…or, at least, how to not get everyone killed.

The men—including Kian—put on combat gear and loaded their guns, and we all trooped over to what they called The Killing House, a cavernous building that they’d filled with partition walls and pop-up targets. “We’ve got to move fast,” Danny told me. “But quiet. We want to get in and out before they know we’re there. If one guard raises the alarm, we’ll have an army to fight.”

We went inside and, immediately, I was out of my depth. It was as dark and disorienting as a haunted house and the team moved fast, flowing effortlessly along hallways and up stairs. For the first minute, I managed to keep up with them. Then they suddenly stopped and, in the dark, I wound up right behind the massive Colton. He backed up, tripped over me and we went down in a heap on the floor. Someone turned on a flashlight and I looked up into a circle of worried faces.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.

Danny reached down, took my hand in his and hauled me to his feet. “It’s alright,” he said gently. “We’ll just go again.”

We went back to the entrance and crept into the building again. This time, I only made it thirty seconds before I turned the wrong way in the darkness and got separated from the team. I stepped out into a hallway and heard someone whirl around in the blackness next to me—

“Jesus Christ!” a strong Irish accent rang through the building. A flashlight went on again and I saw Bradan three feet away, his gun pointed right at me and his face pale with fear. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry!”

“I nearly shot you!” snapped Bradan.

I stared down the barrel of the gun, my stomach churning. “I know, I’m sorry!”

“Easy, mate,” Danny said quietly.

Bradan sighed, nodded and gave me an apologetic look. I got it: I knew he was just shaky and scared from nearly shooting me. But it didn’t make me feel any better.