I already battled sickness not knowing Sully’s fate. It increased tenfold as I swallowed, my stomach gurgling with revulsion.
I couldn’t sleep or eat.
What would I give to enjoy a spread of vegetarian fare from Sully’s gardens? What would I trade to sit on Sully’s deck overlooking Nirvana and share a simple, sweet veggie dinner with him?
Skittles would be there.
Pika, too.
Cal and Jealousy, goddesses and guests.
The world I’d tried to change suddenly no longer seemed so horrendous. I’d been so close to granting Sully’s freedom, so close to freeing his goddesses, showing him a happier way of life, and claiming my forever.
The hot afternoons wallowing in the sea were gone. The belly-clenching desire of lust was trivial. The ark of hoofed and winged creatures that Sully conjured whenever he touched me had all died a violent death.
Sully...
Please be alive.
I sighed.
But if you’re hurt...don’t come after me.
Don’t trade your life for mine.
Don’t be a hero.
Please...
With tears distorting the sky, I returned to staring out the window.
* * * * *
I’d fallen asleep.
For all my convictions that I could never let down my guard and be so vulnerable in Drake’s presence, the choice had been taken away from me.
My body didn’t request it.
It just took it.
Knocking me out until I slumped in my chair, leaving me a jumbled doll just waiting to be snatched up and played with again.
I woke with a jolt as the false sense of stability was interrupted as tyres hit tarmac and the plane landed.
The mercenaries shifted behind me as I sat taller in my seat, rubbing away sleep and trying to focus outside. An airport with Arabic script welcomed us, the private plane taxiing to a private hangar away from the main hub.
Dubai.
As the engines cut off, the pilots came over the intercom. “Please stay in your seats. We’re just refuelling and will continue our flight to Geneva.”
Geneva?
What the hell is in Geneva?
Chapter Four
I ROLLED MY WRIST in the new dawn, sunlight streaming in through the airplane windows.
A Hawk diamond sparkled in my cufflink. My charcoal cashmere suit was pressed and perfect. My black shirt deliberately chosen to hide bloodstains.
To the twenty lethal mercenaries behind me, I looked like I always did. A magistrate of my empire, a man no one dared tango with, an untouchable scoundrel who’d left the public eye of pharmaceuticals and cloistered upon a hidden island.
Just as my islands hid what I truly was, my suit hid my wounds.
The skin around my wrist glistened in the sun. Parts of the bloody mess from struggling in Drake’s handcuffs had scabbed and dried, and others continued to crack and ooze platelets. My body, with its myriad of injuries, had focused on different areas to repair.
The only difference was, I felt none of it.
I rolled my wrist again, marvelling at my deadened senses.
One dose of Tritec had helped mute the inconceivable agony of a harpoon hole and acid burns on my chest. It’d allowed my system to accept the never-ending burn in my chemically doused eyes, to hear past the chilli that’d been shoved into my eardrums, to function on a level that’d allowed me to kill men, rescue Jinx, and then fuck her away from deaths’ greedy claws.
I’d thought the injection had been a godsend then.
But now...
After a second dose?
I didn’t know if I’d created a compound even more valuable than elixir...or something a hundred times more devastating. A drug like this could create robots out of men. It could march wounded soldiers back into battle. It could cultivate a taskforce of terrifying, agony-immune individuals.
The second dose hadn’t just numbed my every pain, it’d granted razor-sharp focus, whip-quick conclusions, and the ability to operate at a level most men only dreamed of.
I was in survival mode.
Every part of me that wasn’t essential to survival had shut down. My appetite. My lethargy. My panic over Eleanor’s fate. Those were things that would detract from my single-mindedness. From my triumph.
Eleanor would soon be mine again.
I was only an hour or so behind.
My private plane had taken off with my hired staff whose skills lay in knife play and gunshots, and my pilots had followed the jet stream of my brother.
It also helped I had someone from air traffic control on my payroll. Someone who fed me Drake’s intended location and his flight manifest.
Geneva.
Out of the five estates our parents had left him, that was the most populated. A regal manor house built by one of the founding businessmen in 1814. It’d been the crown in my parents’ portfolio for its connection to the first apothecary and subsequent base for the successful hub of pharmaceuticals within the Swiss country.
They’d likened themselves to pharmacists who’d tramped jungles and tested exotic plants to find cures no one had ever considered. They were pompous enough to claim ties to such prestige and purchased the house to be their second residence after their one in the States.
It was fitting that Drake had taken Eleanor there.
Fitting because, in that house, Drake had poured gallons of petrol into the private pond, killing every fish, frog, and swan. Why? Just because he could. He’d killed innocence there. He thought he could kill Eleanor.
He’s wrong.
Dropping my arm, no longer intrigued by the empty sensation of a body that ought to pound with pain, I snatched up my phone. It wasn’t my usual one. That one I’d left on the sandy pathway while I’d carried an elixir-high Eleanor to the ocean to make our escape.
This one was a clone—complete with all my apps but empty of historical data.
I couldn’t call Eleanor to tell her to hold on.
So...I called the only other person I trusted.
“Nice of you to fly off without me, you bastard,” Cal muttered on the second ring.
“You’re a hindrance in your current state.”
“Campbell told me about your broken pieces. At this point, I’m guessing I’d be more helpful than you.”
I smiled, enjoying the ice in my veins, embracing the coolness of my strangely anesthetized skin. “I’m operating at full capacity. Possibly even better.”
“Because of the second dose of Tritec-87. Yes, I heard about that, too. Campbell is quite worried.” His voice lowered with seriousness. “He said you need a defibrillator close by, Sinclair. You need a doctor shadowing your every move for when your heart gives out.” He cleared his throat. “If they catch you when you go into cardiac arrest, they might be able to reset your system and stop you from dying—”
I scoffed, interrupting him. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself and those gunshots of yours.”
“I’m being serious. If you die, I will...I’ll...I’ll fucking take Eleanor for my own and see if that doesn’t drag you out of a grave. I’ll marry her, Sinclair, just to spite you.”
My heart gave one heavy pound. That was it. A tiny flicker. The drug that’d coated my nervous system had not only chloroformed my pain receptors but also my ability to rise to infectious emotions.
I’d always wanted to be completely apathetic.
I’d gotten my wish.
“See, a threat like that might’ve worked...if I hadn’t been watching.”
“Watching what?”
“I’ve seen you eyeing Jealousy lately.”
“What?” He coughed. “What the fuck are you implying?”
“I’m saying I’m not the only one who’s been tending to a goddess after serving in Euphoria.”
“Who the hell told you?”
I shrugged. “Just observant. You’ve never provided aftercare for a goddess before.”
�
��Neither had you.”
“Until I fell in love.”
“You’re a sneaky son of a bitch.”
“I’m sorry, Cal. I’m sorry Jess is—”
“She’ll be fine. And if she isn’t, my threat still stands. If she dies and you die...then Eleanor and I can just be miserable together.”
Cricking my neck, I ceased unnecessary chatter.
If I died, I wanted Drake’s cold heart in my fist beforehand.
And for Cal’s sake, I hoped Jess would pull through. What he did on his downtime was not my business, but he did deserve to be happy. I’d half expected him to come and request for Jealousy to stop serving in Euphoria. If he was falling for her, watching her fuck other men would steadily drive him insane.
But...after today, he wouldn’t have to worry about that.
If she survived, she’d never serve another guest again.
Not because I owed her the greatest debt for what she’d done with Drake but because I’d learned my lessons on exploitation.
“Enough gossip. This isn’t a social call.” I looked around, ignoring my crutch wedged against the emergency exit and the men of all shapes and skills sitting in expensive seats. The private plane was large enough for my army along with an arsenal. “We need to discuss business.”
“What business? I’m stuck in a recovery ward with bloody parrots. I can’t do shit—”
“First, an update on Campbell’s patients. How is Jess doing? Skittles still healing?”
Cal’s tone turned tight and full of strain. “He still isn’t sure if she’ll make it. He has the two vets from Serigala here helping him. And yes, your damn caiques are twittering away in the corner, preening each other.”
I cricked my neck, keeping my fractured, sewn-together leg splayed out in front of me. “Tell him to give Jealousy a dose of Tritec...it’s rather something. It’s...helped.”
“Of course, it’s helped. It’s a powerful blend of narcotics and—”
“What I’m feeling isn’t fake.”
“No, but it will extract the worst kind of toll.”
I shrugged. I didn’t care about that. As long as Drake was dead and Eleanor was safe, fine. I’d had this coming for most of my life. I didn’t deserve a long existence. I wasn’t owed peace and prosperity, love and longevity.
This was my karma, and I’d accepted that.
So long as Eleanor didn’t pay on my behalf, I wouldn’t begrudge the few days I had left to make amends for what I’d done.
“Are the police still there?”
“Yes.” Cal sniffed. “Snooping. Asking questions.”
“Call Arbi to keep the goddesses confined on Lebah. Don’t let them back onto Batari before they’re gone.”
“Already called him and advised to stay hidden.”
“And the guests?”
“I’ll arrange private transfers to Jakarta. You can deal with refunds and threats when you’re back.”
I shook my head. “I’m not coming back, Cal.”
“Like fuck you aren’t, sir.”
“You know my passwords. You’ve helped run Goddess Isles since conception.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, saying goodbye to what I’d built. I wouldn’t be there to make amends and dismantle my mistakes, but Cal could try to fix my wrongs. “If I’m right that you’re developing feelings for Jess, I’m glad. Make sure Campbell keeps her breathing. I know I haven’t shown my appreciation for your help over the years, but I am thankful. You’re a good man, Calvin, and that’s why I trust you to carry out my last request.”
“Tritec is messing with you. Last request? You’re not allowed to have a last request because you’re coming back.”
“Regardless, there are loose ends that need to be finished.”
“What loose ends?”
“When the police have left, release the girls.”
“What?”
“Let them go.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
“But—”
“Release them with the usual fee and warning. Shut down the dark web, revoke all future bookings, end it. End all of it.”
“But Euphoria—”
“Burn it to the ground.”
“Fuck no.”
“When you’re able, visit Monyet and stop the production of elixir. They won’t be able to finish the next batch without me anyway, so the danger of it dies with me. Tell Peter Beck to use the rest of his ingredients and put it toward some other cure.”
Cal’s tone grew angry. “You expect me just to delete your life? Just like that.”
“Call it a final decree from a dead man.”
“If you play it smart and keep a defibrillator close—”
“Thanks for your service, Cal. And for your friendship.”
“Sullivan, don’t.” His anger slipped into urgency. “She’ll never forgive you. You die on her, and she’ll—”
“Hate me, yes.” I looked out the window at the snow-dusted rooftops of a city sprawled beneath us.
Geneva.
Switzerland.
The location of my end.
“It’s better she hates me than loves me. Remember? Everything that loves me ends up dying. Everything that I love I end up killing. This way...I’ll break the chain. She’ll be free. I’ll be free. My goddesses will be free. Jess and you will be free.”
The landing gear whirred from the fuselage beneath my feet.
My heart picked up a quicker patter, still cushioned from spikes of stress thanks to Tritec.
Messy emotions would not get in the way of me eradicating Drake.
Fury would not make me sloppy.
Weakness would not make me fail.
Not this time.
This time, I would win.
I was ruthless.
Heartless.
Ready.
I’d said my farewells and given my blessings.
I’m coming, Eleanor.
“Goodbye, Cal. And thank you.”
Chapter Five
I WAS GRATEFUL, EVEN in this nightmare.
Grateful for the sleep I’d gotten on the plane and the handful of grapes I’d stolen as we’d walked through a house full of Regency elegance. Grateful for the renewed vigour from rest and fructose. Grateful for the warmth of the residence after the bite of winter outside.
Drake led the way, strolling arrogantly through a house that’d been here long before the other suburbs. As we’d driven from the airport, behind blackened windows of a fortified SUV, I’d looked into the driveways of quaint houses and manicured lawns of cramped subdivisions, parcels of land getting smaller the larger the city became.
Not this house.
This house had a guard turret at the bottom of a long sweeping driveway. This house had frost-sprinkled oak trees lining the expansive snowy lawns and a large pond glittering with ice in the distance.
Drake hadn’t said a word as he’d dragged me up the stone steps and over a double door threshold with carved angels in the wood.
Angels...how ironic.
Perhaps, it was Lucifer instead. The fallen one who’d turned his tricks to treachery instead of scripture.
The foyer held double-height ceilings with huge architraves and heavy brocade on the walls. The parlour matched with equally impressive doorways and sweeping views over boxed hedgerows and military-precise cut lawn with snow pushed to the side in drifts. The kitchen held a fruit bowl overflowing with offerings—where I snagged my grapes—while cabinets glistened with a pearly veneer.
Each room held hints to its history but also buckled beneath modern styling.
“Set it up in here,” Drake commanded as he hauled me into another lounge, this one deeper and darker than the rest. A tomb within a home. Navy wallpaper and black ceiling; spotlights highlighted a library on one wall and oppressive artwork of hunts and hounds on the other.
Watery sunlight did its best to illuminate the shadowy corners, but we were no longer in the tropics, and the sun
had a weaker quality. It was grey light not golden. Sad light not hopeful.
It set my teeth on edge. My empty stomach snarled.
“Grab a curtain tieback,” Drake snapped as his hired goons deposited the boxes of elixir onto the chaise by the pine-cone-filled fireplace. No flames licked at the stone façade or gave off cheery heat. But the house wasn’t cold, so some form of heating had to be operational to keep the wintery chill at bay.
A mercenary arrived with a plaited rope of velvet matching the sapphire drapes.
The blue reminded me of Sully.
Of his eyes as they filled with ardent hunger.
Of his need as he undressed me.
Are you alive, Sully?
I swallowed hard, blocking out thoughts of him.
I needed to stay on guard, on edge.
The moment the mercenary dropped the tieback into Drake’s hand, he came toward me and chuckled. “I was contemplating playing together tomorrow. After all, we’ve lived through a lot, you and me.” Drake took my hand, kissing my knuckles as if he could convince me he was a gentleman of the manor courting me. “However, I’ve learned that waiting for what you want only leads to disappointment. I’m done waiting. So...I’m taking.” He rose from his slight bow over my hand. “I’m taking you, and you’ll be happy to know my libido has returned in full fervour thanks to the long rest on the plane.”
Grabbing my wrist, he dragged me forward until he forced my palm against the erection in his crinkled trousers.
Shuddering, I tried to pull away.
“I’m hard at the very thought of what we’re about to do, Eleanor. Gonna taste what’s got my brother in such a tizzy.” Dropping to one knee, he ran his hands down my hips, thighs, and calves until he reached my ankle.
I kept myself locked down. To not react to his heinous touch. To not ram my palm into his nose. We weren’t alone. Men with guns patrolled. Until I had some chance of winning, I had to bide my time.
Wrapping the curtain tieback around my left leg, he pushed me backward until I bumped against a heavily embroidered aquamarine silk couch. Everything was so stuffy compared to the driftwood furniture and seagrass rugs of Sully’s villas. The walls were too thick. The colours too dense.
The large room seemed to squeeze around me as Drake tied me to the couch leg, imprisoning me like some unwanted pet who wasn’t allowed to jump on the décor.
Fifth a Fury (Goddess Isles, #5) Page 4
