The sea of people intrigued by the incident in front of them did not detect Abigail as she gently pushed her way through them. Despite her appearing out of place dressed in snug leather pants, a black silk blouse with a revealing cut, and a hood worn to conceal her identity, no one screamed the words that meant abscond. Having made it to the front of the platform, her view on the scene from the center, Abigail’s heart thudded loudly in her chest. Kneeled before the crowd was the man she was meant to rescue. Guards surrounded the man she knew only as #11. The man’s lowered head caused his inky hair to veil his face.
“Look up,” Abigail murmured to herself.
She pulled her hood off slightly, her viridian eyes never leaving him. The man looked up as if he could sense Abigail’s eyes on him. The man gazed intently at Abigail as he tilted his head. Abigail stared back into his questioning turquoise eyes, her pale red lips parting. His mesmeric eyes swept the crowd before a small smile formed on his masculine face. With a raised sable eyebrow, the man’s gaze returned to Abigail.
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