THE BREAKING POINT

Lena's POV Like a weighty shroud, tiredness descended on my shoulders. For days we had been on the road, and the persistent anxiety of betrayal bit at the margins of my will. Beckett stayed over us like a storm cloud, poised to strike at any time. Surrounded by the faint buzz of electricity and flickering lights above, I sat on the chilly concrete floor of the abandoned subway station. Too tired to talk, the others were dispersed around the area. By the far wall, Mara was staring far ahead. Huddled near the door, Finn and Jacob were whispering strategy. The sense of something approaching, that the mole's next action would be crucial, persisted in me. The worst aspect was still not knowing who it was. "Lena?," the voice of Mara drew me back into reality. She had strolled over, uncertainty written on her face. "Do you honestly think anyone we know now we can trust? Feeling the weight of her inquiry, I raised a head toward her. "I want to believe we can," I murmured quietly. But following everything... Uncertainty exists. She dropped her shoulders and sat down next to me. "I'm afraid. I never had such fear before. Not even when Beckett first arrived after us. I stretched forward and rested a hand on hers. "It's good to feel afraid, Mara. Everybody we know is. We cannot let fear, nevertheless, rule us. Her eyes locked with mine and I sensed the uncertainty reflected there. "I just..." I doubt whether I am strong enough for this. You are, I said, quite strong. You have been at my side through everything. You are stronger than you could possibly know. She seemed to compose herself for a minute, the anxiety gradually giving way to something more robust. "I'm trying." It can be difficult, though, when every stride seems to go into the future. That is not something I could dispute. The unknown had grown to be our regular friend, and the treachery among our troops just made things worse. I couldn't let Mara know, though, how much it weighed on me. Though my own confidence was flimsy, I had to be the strong one. Finn later came to me, his face tense with concern. He nodded toward a quieter part of the station and said, "We need to talk." My pulse increasing, I trailed him. Something in his speech made me uncomfortable. " What is it?" Finn's voice low, "We're running out of time," he muttered. "We still don't know who is supplying Beckett's men information; they are closing in. Either we have to act quickly or we will lose our advantage. Crossing my arms, I felt the strain in my muscles. "I know." Still, I cannot afford to make the wrong decision. Should we act prematurely, we could lose everything. Finn had dark eyes, a mirror of my own frustrations. Lena, we have been running defense for far too long. Before Beckett moves forward, we have to launch an attack. Though I could not overlook the truth in his remarks, they really hit me hard. "I get that, but suppose the mole is still one step ahead of humans? Say Beckett already knows our next action? Finn stepped in front, his voice sharp. "We must thus be willing to take chances. We have been responding to Beckett all this evening. We should catch him off guard. I looked at him and sensed his determination pulling at me. He was correct, but the anxiety about betrayal still tore at me. And with regard to the mole? Inquired. "What if they turn on us when least expected??" Finn's jaw closed tightly. "Then we handle them when the moment calls for it. But we cannot wait for something to happen. We carry out this. His remarks terrified me as well as set a spark inside me. I hadn't understood how much we were losing by stilling ourselves; I had been so preoccupied with shielding everyone and ensuring we didn't lose any more. Finally, my words hardly audible above a whisper, "I'll think about it." That evening, sleep arrived in bursts and starts. Doubts, worries, and Finn's words' echoes tore across my head. My eyes closed and I imagined Beckett's visage hovering above us like a specter. And always, lurking in the shadows, was the faceless mole figure. When daylight at last arrived, I was not nearer to an answer. Finn was right, albeit one thing was abundantly evident. We couldn't wait any more. That was the moment to act. I saw Mara standing apart from the others and with a distant look as we assembled for yet another strategy session. I moved over, my chest constricting with anxiety. "Mara, are you alright? I questioned. She hesitated then spoke with a weak voice. "I had been considering... And what if it is me? Startled, I blinked. " What do you mean?" She dropped her hands down and started to wrangle them. "What if I am the mole and I am not even aware of it? Suppose Beckett is somehow manipulating me? Her voice clearly expressed anxiety, and I became suddenly sympathetic. "Listen to me, Maara. It is not you the mole. I understand you. We have gone through much too much together. Still, what if I have been compromised? She insisted, tears flooding her eyes. "What if I'm acting in ways I'm not even conscious of?" I shook my head and laid both hands on her shoulders. You are not. Beckett wants us to start to distrust one another. That is his style of play. We will not, however, fall for it. Mara let out a wobbly breath, and I hugged her. "We're going to work this out," I said quietly. " Together." By afternoon we had a schedule. Though not flawless, it was daring and would help us to get back under control. We would advance Beckett's base, striking him where it hurt. But we had to depend more on one another than ever if we were to pull it off. And trust—thin as it was—had to hold. Standing around a makeshift table, Finn, Jacob, Mara, and I reviewed the specifics one more time. Feeling the strain in the room, I remarked, "We move fast and strike hard." "There is no hesitation." There is no turning back once we get in. Finn nodded with a sad look. And should the mole try anything? "We'll handle it," I responded with great conviction, yet the prospect made my stomach tighten. I couldn't get rid of the sense that this would be the defining moment as we got ready to go. Success or failure, it all depended on our next action. And a tiny voice kept asking the same question over and over in the rear of my mind: who could I really trust? Each stride brought us closer to Beckett's stronghold as we negotiated the dark alleys like shadows. Tension permeated the air, and the silence all around us seemed to accentuate every sound. My heart hammered in my chest as we neared the construction. There was this. Every struggle we had resulted in this moment. Finn waived for us to separate, and I watched as Jacob and he chose one path while Mara and I walked the other. We would gather inside, at Beckett's command center. Although the idea was straightforward, the risks were great. As we slid in the shadows, I whispered to Mara, "Stay close." Though I could hear the terror in her voice, she murmured back, "I'm with you." I looked over at her as we approached the door to give a little reassuring nod. But the discomfort relentlessly tore at me. We slid into the structure and negotiated the poorly illuminated hallways. The silence was deafening, the tension thick enough to cut across. Then all at once, unexpectedly. A yell, a blur of movement, and gunfire. My heart racing, Mara and I dove for shelter as anarchy broke out all around. I turned to face her, wide-eyed. "This is it". We still have to relocate. But a stranger emerged in the doorway, a gun fired before she could reply. My heart stopped at the identification of the face. Beside Beckett. "Hello, Lena," he began, his voice cool and sweet. "I had been expecting you." My pulse accelerated, and I stood motionless knowing the fight had only started.