I wiped the tear from my face and took a deep breath, drawing on every ounce of willpower I possessed to compose myself. Whatever was causing this unexpected reaction, I couldn't afford to fall apart right now. The others needed me to be steady, rational, capable of making decisions under pressure.
But the confusion lingered. I'd been shot at before. Multiple times during my escape from the lab in Northern Europe. I'd been kidnapped, tortured, forced to fight soldiers who were actively trying to kill me or drag me back to a laboratory for more experimentation. I'd faced death and dangerous scenarios in various forms and managed to maintain my composure throughout all of it.
So why was I crying now? Why was this assassination attempt affecting me differently than previous encounters with lethal violence?
