This made them all look alike.
Their wrists were zip-tied to the armrests of metal chairs, and their ankles were tied to the chair legs.
Most of the girls were crying, whimpering, and shaking in fear.
Ten guards were standing around, all armed and looking bored.
For them, this was just another day at work.
What they didn't realize was that one of the "girls" wasn't a girl at all.
Layla was sitting in the second row, decked out in the white dress and silver mask. Like the others, her wrists and ankles were tied up.
But underneath the zip ties, her fingers were ready to go.
She had a small blade hidden in her palm—thin, flat, and tough to spot unless you knew what to look for.
Her earpiece—skin-colored, tiny, and tucked under her hair—made a soft crackling sound.
Azalea's voice came through. "Linda is moving. Thirty seconds."
Layla didn't say anything. She couldn't risk it.
Yet her body was tense and prepared.
