I'm a failure.

I allowed one of my lambs to get lost.

I failed to look after those who are mine.

I messed up my calculations.

It's my fault.

These five sentences should be my new Credo. They seem to fit my current situation perfectly, and I can't stop repeating them, anyway.

Tobey was kidnapped.

It happened at the gates of the kindergarten. I missed a day at work due to stupid further education Nicole enrolled me in, allowing my stupid alternate to take my class to the regular dental checkup. On their way back, they were attacked by armed men.

I wasn't there to protect them. I wasn't counting on a possibility like this.

I'm a failure.

It's my fault.

I feel a punishing meltdown approaching, but I need to postpone it until I'm alone. I tap my forehead, and I breathe out, repeating the process until I can focus again.

The idea of another glitch in the Matrix scares me to death. I didn't see this coming. I messed up my calculations again. I'm a failure—no, I'm not going down that road. I'm still needed. Those armed men must be convinced to give Tobey back, unharmed, whatever it takes. Those armed men who can belong to only one person.

How could I miscalculate Mint so badly?

I don't know him at all. I thought I could use him like a weapon. A weapon that's stronger than any other weapon. A weapon that feels comfortable in my hand.

My ass. This weapon bit my hand and shot me in the face.

How could I be so stupid? Duke was right. Mint's a wolf in a lamb's clothing.

He knows very well that Tobey is one of my lambs. I told him myself, and still, he took him from me. Hurting me on purpose. Hitting where it hurts the most.

Well, it's something he's known for, so I shouldn't be surprised. Me, surprised. That should be an oxymoron. Because I calculate everything. I calculated him. And I believed he'd never do this to me.

Miscalculated, that is. And believed. The problem starts there. Preconceptions. Memories. Beliefs. The footsteps of the devil, leading to the dimwits', aka normal people's hell.

That's where I am now. Because I'm a failure.

I should never have let Mint know that losing a lamb of mine was incompatible with my existence. I knew he wanted to see me dead. How could I behave so neurotypical, sharing feelings like a fool? He just chose the cruelest way to reach said goal. Mint's the most wanted criminal in the world, known for his ruthlessness, so, again, I shouldn't be surprised, should I?

Okay, let's slow down. My brain's running amok. I need to calm my mind and start to calculate again.

I breathe out three times. Tobey needs me in full possession of my mental skills, so back to the facts. Mint has the boy. And I have to get him back.

First, I talk to my trembling alternate about the details she gave to the police, under the guise of a friendly commiseration. She spills everything to me without the slightest hint of suspicion.

Luckily, she's been her usual self with the police, too. She told them everything about her feelings, the panic, the shock, the anxiety, and nothing about the details she could have observed regarding the armed men.

Good. The guys at the police aren't known for their genius either. I still have time before they start to connect the dots, leading them back to the kindergarten.

I also ask my alternative to keep watching over the kids while I'm away. It's still the best I can do at the moment. There's a 91% chance that she'll pay attention in an obsessive-compulsory way after the things happened, so they'll be okay.

Then, I visit Nicole. She's trembling, too.

"Hey, Nicole." I smile at her.

She bursts out crying. I can't bring myself to hug her, but I pat her back.

"Everything's going to be all right," I tell her.

"How?" she sobs. "Nothing like this has happened in any other kindergarten, ever! We're fucked! And poor Tobey... I can't... what if they kill him? His parents aren't wealthy enough to pay for him!"

"Well—"

"I have to give evidence to the police," she interrupts me, bawling, "but I don't even know what to tell them! It's so surreal! A child, kidnapped, here?!"

"You don't need to tell them anything," I answer. "I'll get Tobey back."

Her tears stop flowing in a second. She forgets how to breathe, too. She stares at me, wide-eyed.

"What are you?" she asks me. "What are you, really? I knew something was off about you!"

"Yes, captain obvious. It's in my files, too. I'm—"

"You're a superhero, right? I knew they were real! The thing you just said—you sounded like one of them!"

"DC or Marvel?" the formal logic center of my brain makes me ask, out of reflex. But before Nicole could answer, I decide to have this conversation at a more convenient time, as promising as the data to be gathered about her cognitive methods seem.

"Listen, Nicole," I sigh. "I trust you. I know who took Tobey. And I'm ready to get him back without the police's help, okay?"

"It was your sexy friend, right?" she gasps. "I knew it! I always have a crush on assholes. It's like a radar. I like him, therefore he's a psycho. Period."

"No, it's not him. Besides, I hope you know that a person who kidnaps children can't be called my friend."

That makes her think for a second. Not in the right direction, though.

"It's the other man, then," she guesses. "The dangerous-looking one that moves like a lion. I must tell the police about him, Edie. Sorry."

"Okay. Just give me a little time before you do. The police are good for many things. Sadly, retrieving a child unharmed is not amongst them. Let them do their thing, and, in the meanwhile, let me do mine, okay?"

She still seems uncertain of what to do.

"Hey, Nicole." I touch her hand, overwriting the default reaction of my nervous system. "You're a clever woman. That's why you're my best friend. You know that if this hits the news, we can close the kindergarten, right?"

She buries her face in her hands. I go on.

"Calling the police, you'd put Tobey's life in danger. I know where he is, and I know what to do. You need to trust me, okay? I'll put it right, no matter what. I promise."

She looks at the phone. She looks at me again. The phone is winning, dammit. There's a 64% chance that she doesn't dare not to call the police. I look her deep in her eyes, imagining that I'm a superhero. 58%. I purse my lips together, in a determined way, like Captain America. 53%. I furrow my brow like Wonder Woman. 49%. Bingo. Only then do I ask her again.

"Do you agree, Nicole?"

"I do," she answers. "But you must be back before 4 PM with Tobey. If not, I'll tell the police everything."

"Deal. Until then, please think about a believable lie, how he wandered back to the kindergarten after the kidnappers noticed that they took the wrong kid and let him go, or something like that."

"I trust you, Edie. But I hope you know that I can never work with children in this country again, should anything happen to Tobey."

"I know."

I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to share my stupid feelings, preconceptions, and beliefs with anyone, ever again. But there's a 99.8% chance that she needs it badly, and that is a rare truth.

"I want you to know, respectively, that I probably wouldn't survive if anything happened to Tobey," I inform her.

I leave her room without looking back, as fast as I can, hoping that she won't use this piece of information against me, like Mint. But, obviously, I can't be sure.

Because I messed up my calculations.

I'm a failure.

Everything's my fault.