This was ridiculous.
Cate'd trained for years to be the best at her job.
Driving herself to — and well past — her limits.
A rigid, exhausting, daily regimen.
To make sure she was in peak condition.
Physical and mental.
To make sure she could, for example, leap extremely high from a standing start, at a moment's notice.
Knew exactly how much pressure to apply to walls, and at what angle, so she could climb higher, quickly.
Had the stamina to steady herself and stay up there for as long as necessary.
The self-control to become a ghost.
Disappear in the shadows.
Cate was a fly on the wall.
In the ointment.
Unseen.
Unheard.
That didn't mean it was pleasant.
Or even vaguely comfortable.