She was standing there in a white nightgown and men’s boots and not much else. It was obvious now that she was a woman – she didn’t have much in the way of breasts, but the thin gown left exactly nothing to the imagination. Anyone with eyes would see that she was no man, not even a teenaged boy.
Iris had nothing left to lose anymore; she was as trapped and helpless as she’d been when she was drugged into compliance by Gideon and his monster Guardians. That same crazed courage that got her up and out of the compound, and told her to give the camera the finger, and pushed her to hide in the back of a stranger’s van, rose up in her again, making her feel that odd combination of reckless and invincible.
Ignoring the man’s order to wait, she ripped the scarf from her face and then raised her
