“Oh, my plan worked. The files just appear to be incomplete.” Mateo frowned, shaking his head. “It’s like someone keyed the names of all the projects, provided high-level detail, and erased all the metadata.”
“There’s no reference to additional files, either,” Aidan added, his expression rivaling Mateo’s. “The entire server is a smoke screen.”
“So it would seem. Maybe they’re saved to his local drive.” Mateo flipped monitors, showing an interrogation room of sorts with three frozen expressions.
“What’s that?” Issac peered over his shoulder for a better look. “Are they in another room? Where’s Astasiya?”
“That’s Jonathan’s desktop,” Mateo replied. “It’s the video he showed Stas before leaving the room.”
Ah yes. They’d not been able to hear it. “Can you play it?” Issac requested, curious about the contents. The visual was much clearer now, showing Jonathan, Agent Stark, and Doctor Patel.
“Sure.” Mateo pushed a few keys and pulled the image to his other monitor, pressing Play.
Issac’s lips thinned as he watched the footage. “Clever,” he muttered as they neared the end. “And clearly rehearsed.”
“Did you warn Stas about Jonathan’s affinity for the truth?” Nadia asked, her ebony gaze on the screen.
“I didn’t mention it,” Issac admitted, regretting the oversight. “Fortunately, she’s immune.”
Jonathan’s ability to compel the truth out of a person was why Agent Stark played the interrogator in that video. Had it been Jonathan, Doctor Patel would have been forced to answer truthfully, which would have defeated the purpose of the entire charade.
“Will Stas believe any of this?” Aidan scanned the words flowing over Mateo’s other monitor while he spoke. “The video, I mean.”
“She knows me better than that by now,” Issac replied, certain. “Jonathan would have to do a lot better than that to convince her to distrust me at this point.” If anything, the CRF’s CEO had just proven Issac’s accusations to be true.
Jonathan Fitzgerald was an evil son of a bitch.
“Where’s Aya now?” Issac wondered, needing to see her again to confirm she was still all right.
Mateo touched a few keys to bring up her video feed.
Issac studied the viewpoint, his brow creasing. “What the hell are we looking at?” he demanded, his chest cracking. “What the fuck is that, Mateo?”
“The v-view from her blouse,” Mateo breathed. “That can’t be…” He enlarged the live stream on his bigger screen, Amelia’s face bright beneath the harsh lighting of the room.
The image blurred as Astasiya moved, a white wall coming into view. And then Amelia’s face appeared again.
Issac grabbed the monitor, his knees weak.
Amelia.
She sat crumpled in a corner, wearing a filthy shirt that hardly covered her thighs. Thick clumps of dark hair hung around her gaunt face, hiding her aristocratic features and the blue of her eyes.
But he’d recognize his sister anywhere.
Bruises littered her body, her ankle was twisted at the wrong angle, and a metal collar circled the thin column of her throat.
“Oh my God,” Nadia whispered.
Clara, Anya and Tristan were at the doorway a second later, a gasp coming from one of them.
“Is this real?” Aidan sounded hoarse. “Is this real?”
Mateo started typing, the sound drifting into the background behind Issac’s thundering heart. The video rewound to Jonathan’s office, then crept forward as Astasiya stepped into the hallway.
And the room appeared again.
Fast-forwarded to the present, where Amelia remained on the floor.
Alive.
“Amelia,” he whispered, his eyes glued to the screen, time ceasing to exist. “That bastard has Amelia.”
He shook his head. “How is this possible?” They found records of a crematorium visit near the Hamptons estate. Eli had been found holding her ashes. “Is it a trick?” But no, it couldn’t be. Astasiya wore the camera. She wouldn’t allow Jonathan to play such a cruel joke, clearly didn’t believe it herself by the way she kept moving around the room.
And she appeared to be speaking to Amelia.
Why wasn’t there sound attached to the recording?
Would he hear the agony in her voice? Would it match her broken body?
“Can you zoom in on her neck?” Aidan asked, his tone one of reason and practicality and not at all similar to the voice rioting in Issac’s head.
Amelia’s battered face and neck appeared, black-and-blue marks marring her pale skin. Aidan said something about her collar, his words drowning behind a volcano of fury erupting inside Issac’s head.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything beyond the image on the screen.
Amelia is alive.
Fuck.
How is this possible?
Eli had been holding her ashes that day. Her rings were in the urn.
But Jonathan had staged it all.
The sick fuck had kept Amelia in the CRF underground for the last six years while Issac focused on his plans for revenge rather than saving his sister.
Because he thought she was dead the entire time.
Oh God, Amelia…
Would she ever forgive him?
“We need to get her out of there,” he breathed, interrupting whatever the others were saying. “We need to go now.”
He started moving, only to have Aidan step into his path, his hands landing on Issac’s shoulders. More words were spoken, a whisper of sound that Issac couldn’t understand over the water rushing through his ears.
“We need to go,” he repeated, his hands fisting at his sides. “We need to get her the fuck out of there!”
She was alone.
Hurt.
Beaten.
“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” he growled, picturing Jonathan’s smug face. Fuck, he’d kept this from Issac for over six years. Kept his sister prisoner after killing Eli. And pretended to be his friend.
Lava poured through Issac’s veins, fueling him to push against the wall blocking his way. He wanted to throttle Jonathan, rip him apart, burn the remains, and force the man to watch the entire time.
“…protective wards,” someone said.
“…be smart about this.”
“Issac, this isn’t…”
“You’re not… clearly.”
“Stop.”
The words hardly registered, only one thought driving him forward. Save Amelia.
Agony struck his chest, sending a blast of energy and pain through his limbs. His head spun, his hands still fisted at his sides.
The world trembled around him.
Darkness prickled his vision.
A cloud of thoughts all drenched in agony.
My sister is alive.
And I left her there…
Tortured.
Alone.
Scared.
I failed her.
He had to make amends, to fix—
A loud clap thundered through his mind, yanking him from his thoughts. The ceiling appeared above him, followed by Aidan’s furrowed brow and a very concerned Tristan.
“Did it work?” Lucian’s voice came from the left, startling Issac.
The Hydraians had all returned to Hydria this morning.
Yet all four Elders stood inside Issac’s study. In his condo. In New York City.
What the hell…?
“He’s back,” Balthazar said, voice low, his expression concerned.
Back? Issac repeated. Back from what?
“We need a plan.” Aidan’s voice held a note of urgency in it. “I want her back as badly as you do, trust me. But if we go in there now with our emotions high, we’ll die. Or worse.”
Issac frowned as he sat up, his head throbbing. How did I end up on the couch? His desk sat several feet away, unoccupied. Everyone else stood around him.
“You were hell-bent on savi
ng Amelia,” Balthazar explained. “You wouldn’t listen to reason.”
“I don’t…” Issac blinked at the now-black screen—the same one he’d held only moments ago. “Turn it back on.”
“We need a plan,” Aidan repeated.
“I get that,” Issac replied shortly, having heard him the first time. “Now turn on the bloody computer.”
“Stas already left.” Lucian moved in front of the desk, his imposing body taking on an intimidating stance. “She’s on her way here, hopefully with helpful information.”
Issac shook his head as if to clear it. “On her way back? She was just in that bloody room with Amelia.”
A room he needed to save her from.
He started to stand, only to have Balthazar push him back down. “Take a deep breath, Wakefield. We all want to get her back, but it has to be the right way.”
“How are you even here?” Issac demanded, confused and irritated. “And where’s Astasiya?”
Aidan handed him a bottle of water. “Drink that. It’ll help.”
Issac narrowed his gaze. “Tell me what happened.” Because he’d clearly lost time somehow. It was the only explanation for the miraculous appearance of the Elders and for him waking up on the couch. He took a sip to appease his maker, demonstrating he was calm despite the insanity surrounding him.
Aidan blew out a breath, taking a step back. “You became fixated on Amelia and wouldn’t listen to reason, so—”
“I subdued you,” Nadia finished with a grimace. She stood just inside the doorway with Clara acting as a shield in front of her. Both women appeared wary of his reaction.
Understanding tightened Issac’s shoulders. Nadia possessed the ability to knock a person out by delivering a psychic blow. The agony he felt hadn’t been from emotions but from her.
“Why?” he demanded.
“To stop you from doing something stupid,” she replied, sounding only slightly apologetic. “You can’t just storm in there, Issac. You’ll die, or worse.”
“We all want her back, but we need to approach this strategically,” Aidan added. “Now, we’ve already begun analyzing the device on her neck, as well as mapping out the underground from Stas’s video surveillance.”
“The artillery room will be an issue.” Lucian folded his thick forearms. “We’ll be at an extreme disadvantage, even if we enter armed.”
Aidan nodded. “I agree. Have you found anything else that may be of use, Mateo?”
“Still searching for records on the device,” Issac’s progeny called from another room. “From what I’ve gathered so far, it’s an explosive collar of some kind.” He appeared in the doorway with his laptop, his uneasy gaze landing on Issac. “It’ll detonate if she leaves the CRF by force.”
Fuck.
Issac ran his fingers through his hair, his throat working as he tried to digest all the information. Saving her had been his only thought, his only priority. But now that his initial shock had dissipated, logic overrode his mind.
“Can the device be removed without detonation?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Mateo shook his head. “The files are all truncated, even on Jonathan’s hard drive. I can only find high-level details, like one-sentence or two-sentence summaries in each log. It’s almost as if he’s reporting the information to a superior—perhaps the benefactor—while keeping the full files on his own personal device. Not his laptop, because I checked that, but something else.”
“I wonder—”
“Issac!” Astasiya’s yell interrupted Aidan’s reply, her voice holding a touch of panic that pierced Issac’s heart.
His legs were moving before he registered the action, heading down the hallway into the main room of his condo to find Astasiya panting in the living area. Her wild gaze met his, tears streaking down her cheeks. She dropped her bag and collapsed into his open arms. He held her tight, his lips brushing her forehead, her hair, her temple.
“W-when you didn’t answer… I thought… Oh God, I thought you were on your way to the CRF. I tried to stall, but… I couldn’t stay there. When he let me leave, I taxied straight here.” She shuddered violently, her shoulders hunched over in a way that hurt his heart. “A-Amelia… Issac, she’s alive. Jonathan i-is… Fuck.”
“It’s all right, love,” Issac whispered, his palm sliding over her back. “You’re all right.” Just murmuring those words helped heal a part of him he hadn’t realized was wounded. Despite the revelation about his sister, he felt oddly whole again, as if Astasiya’s presence had soothed him somehow.
My other half.
“We have to get her out of there.” Astasiya gripped the lapels of his jacket, tugging as she pulled back to meet his gaze. “You saw her, right? You saw her?”
Issac swallowed and nodded. “Yes. We saw her.”
Astasiya sagged against him again. “I was so worried you might go after her, but the runes… the guns… the Sentinels…” She shook her head. “I couldn’t help her, Issac. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”
“You did the right thing,” Aidan replied, joining them in the living area. “Had you attempted to save her, Jonathan would have placed you in a similar predicament, or worse.”
“He’s right.” Issac continued rubbing her back, his heart thudding in his chest. “We can’t react emotionally.” Even if all he wanted was to march into that building and rip Jonathan’s head from his body.
I will kill him.
But it would be the right way.
With planning.
Because they needed to play this smart.
Once they had Amelia back, Issac would destroy Jonathan and everything the man had ever created. Starting with the CRF.
“I…” Astasiya cleared her throat. “I… I might have a suggestion.”
30
What is Elizabeth Watkins?
Issac listened intently while Astasiya detailed her discussion with Jonathan, telling them everything from the video—which she didn’t believe—to the job offer.
“So that’s why I suggested we recruit Issac,” she concluded from her seat beside him on the couch. “Because it might give him access to something that can help us free Amelia.”
“I still vote we just storm the place and torch it to the ground,” Alik said with a shrug. “Not many would consider it a loss.”
“Too many innocent lives,” Lucian replied casually. “It would also attract Osiris’s attention, something I’d prefer to avoid.”
Yes, and the only way to take on the CRF as a collective unit would be to involve the Hydraians. Which could be perceived as an attack since the Ichorians considered New York City to be their home.
Issac ran his palm over his face and blew out a breath. “It was a smart move, Aya,” he admitted. “It’ll grant me closer access to Jonathan and his organization, which we can use appropriately.” Not only to free Amelia, but to demolish the CRF empire.
Aidan nodded from the chair across from him, his hands clasped in his lap. “If you can earn his trust, we might be able to locate the device with the missing files and find out more about his mysterious benefactor.”
“It also serves as a way to protect Stas while she’s undercover as a Sentinel,” Lucian added. “Which I consider to be a requirement.”
“A requirement?” she repeated.
“Yes. You are a future Hydraian, and if you’re going to risk your very valuable life by playing double agent in a city full of Ichorians, then I am entitled to several requirements for your stay. The first being your protection.”
Astasiya’s eyebrows lifted. “I’m not property, Luc.”
“No, but you are a powerful fledgling and a future asset to Hydria. I take that very seriously, as should you.” The not-so-subtle reprimand in his voice had Astasiya’s shoulders tensing.
“We can work through the semantics at a later point,” Issac interjected, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “For now, let’s review our options. How do we free Amelia?”
Lucian crossed his ankle over his opposite knee, the chair beneath him resembling a throne more than a recliner. “If we storm the CRF tonight, we have a thirty percent chance of saving Amelia. That’s a success rate that does not account for the collar that may or may not detonate upon exit. Not to mention the external consequences involving the Conclave, as well as giving up a valuable playing card—Stas’s double agent status.”
“It’s not the most strategic response,” Aidan agreed. “We need additional information on the device, plus a more detailed layout of the CRF’s underground. The video footage only accounts for maybe a tenth of the estimated square footage beneath the building.”
“Meaning we require more surveillance to establish a better plan,” Lucian translated. “As much as it pains me to say this, rescuing Amelia tonight would not be in her best interest or ours.”
Issac’s chest ached, his instincts warring with reason.
He’d left his sister there for too long already and continued to fail her every second he remained here. Yet, it would not help her if he were captured, or worse, killed.
I’m going to slaughter Jonathan for this.
Losing Amelia had been the worst experience of Issac’s life.
Knowing that she was alive and he couldn’t save her was worse.
Astasiya flinched beside him, reminding Issac that he held her hand.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“I understand,” she replied. “I want revenge, too.”
“Well, you’re really going to want to kill him now,” Mateo announced as he entered the room with his laptop, his expression grim. “I was sorting through the files, looking for anything that might be able to help us, and I found something you all need to see.” He set his computer on the table, the image on his screen one Issac recognized immediately.
Astasiya’s intake of breath confirmed she did as well. “That’s Owen.”
Mateo nodded and brought up a file with a handful of words on it, starting with the date of Owen’s murder.
Order executed by JF at 00:00.
Assignment completed by GS at 04:00. Visual confirmation attached.
“That confirms Jonathan ordered his death, but not why,” Aidan said, studying the document.
Vote Then Read: Volume I Page 155
