I pull up the visor, and she doesn’t give me any eye contact; she just stares at my hands as one lifts to aim the gun at her, the other pushing into the space of my helmet to press the button in my ear. Fuck, forgive me. Fucking please forgive me, Stacey. “I have her,” I say in a firm tone. The uncontrollable blinking starts, a layer of sweat forming on my face. “She’s right in front of me.”
