Forged Absolution (Fates of the Bound Book 4)

by Wren Weston

  Lila closed the bedroom door and booted up her laptop, then slipped into the compound’s medical records. If Camille had seen Dr. McCrae, perhaps Lila could find a marker, something to help her investigate the Alleanza database.

  The records did not disappoint. Dr. McCrae had taken an x-ray of Camille’s leg for a potential fracture the year before, and one of her chest for pneumonia. Dr. McCrae had noted that it wasn’t the first time Camille had broken her leg. She’d also noticed a scar on her chest. During the exam, Camille had claimed that a dog had bitten her as a child, but Dr. McCrae believed she’d been stabbed. The wound was too neat and the scarring too straight. The doctor had treated too many purplecoats over the years to be fooled so easily.

  “Well, well, well…” Lila mused, breaking into Randolph General’s records. She found Camille there as well. She’d broken an arm, and the doctor had noticed evidence of past fractures in her x-rays. Another doctor had treated her for a busted lip, a swollen eye, and a possible concussion, suspecting domestic abuse.

  Lila copied the files to her laptop, then hacked the Alleanza database, searching for Camille. Fifteen women in the Italian army had been stabbed in the chest over the last ten years.

  Only one looked like Camille.

  Skimming through the woman’s file, she quickly learned the reason why Camille always seemed wiser than her years. Camille was not twenty years old but twenty-five. She’d first been seen for a health assessment at age six, listed as a new volunteer recruit in the Alleanza database.

  How in the world did a six-year-old volunteer for anything besides ice cream and ponies?

  Lila read on, her frown deepening. The doctors had found a plethora of injuries in the bones of young Camille. Breaks, mostly, and far too many for one rambunctious child.

  Lila backed out of the database and closed her laptop, snatching up her palm as it vibrated. Lila girl, her father had written. I regret to inform of you of my impending retirement.

  For the first time in days, she breathed easy. Her father had not been given a death sentence or a slave’s sentence after all. And Mr. Shaw?

  He must face the auction house. I promise we will speak later. I just need a few hours’ sleep.

  Lila dropped her palm on the bed, wishing she had more energy to celebrate. Instead, she took a quick shower and dressed for the day in a gray sweater and gray trousers, no color to speak of, no coat of arms on her breast. That fact weighed more deeply somehow this morning, especially when Dixon knocked on the bedroom door.

  It’s still early, but Connell’s probably up.

  Lila dried her damp hair with a towel. “I found the proof I’d been looking for an hour ago. It’s definitely Camille.”

  I rather liked her.

  “So did I. What do you think they’ll do to her?”

  Probably stick her in the basement with the others for a while, then shoot her in the head.

  Lila quickly updated him about her father, then wound her damp hair in a bun and grabbed her coat. She took her satchel too, not wanting to take any chances with the information she’d found.

  Dixon and Blair held hands as they walked across the compound, their clothes still wrinkled from pressing against one another in a sweaty, happy mess all night.

  When they arrived at the oracle’s front door, Connell answered. He led the group into the parlor, a grim expression on his face, then fetched his lover. It took nearly twenty minutes for her to join them. She sat heavily on the couch next to Kenna, her feet curled underneath her, her eyes red and drooping, her head resting on her sister’s shoulder. The oracle hadn’t even dressed in her oracle’s robes. Instead, she wore a flannel bathrobe, an oversized one, likely one of Connell’s.

  Blair was right. The visions had ravished her too often lately.

  “I’m not dead yet,” Mòr grumbled.

  Connell’s mouth twitched. “Kenna and I made you some biscuits and gravy. That’ll perk you up.” But his expression wasn’t loving this morning—it was worried.

  So was Kenna’s.

  Mòr didn’t even have the strength to pretend today.

  It worried Lila, too. She’d seen the oracle stride into the aftermath of a bloodbath. Mòr had had visions back then too, hadn’t she? What made today so different?

  Lila found the audio bug in the parlor and moved it into the kitchen, then sat on a sofa chair near the oracle. “We need to talk. It’s important.”

  The oracle abandoned her perch on her sister’s shoulder. “You know who the mole is, don’t you?”

  “One of them.”

  “I’m not going to like who it is, am I?”

  “I don’t suspect any of you will.”

  Lila quickly told them what she had found.

  Kenna shook her head. “I always had a feeling about her, but she’s made Cecily so happy. It’s going to crush her. She’ll doubt herself for the rest of her life. That woman slept in my daughter’s room a thousand times.”

  “That’s unusual for an outsider, isn’t it?”

  Kenna nodded. “She stays here a lot, Lila. There’s an off-and-on boyfriend in the picture, a rotten one. Camille’s had nowhere else to go. She’s an orphan, or at least she claimed to be. I suppose it was just a lie for sympathy.”

  “Broken bones are a lot of commitment for a lie.”

  “Yes, but she’s a soldier,” Connell said. “It’s what soldiers do.”

  “That soldier fed information to our enemies,” the oracle reminded him, tugging her robe’s collar. “You have no idea what they had planned for those little girls. Fetch her, chief. Secure her. Interrogate her. Find out what she’s told her comrades back home, and find the identity of the second mole. Whether that one gets away or not is immaterial. Whether Camille lives or dies afterward is immaterial. I only care that the leaks stop, and that we find out what they know. Take her down carefully. No half measures. Take all precautions.”

  He sat up straighter at his title. “Are we at risk? Are you at risk?”

  “Everyone’s at risk every day. Secure Camille. I see nothing but blood and fire and dust in our future if you do not.”

  Connell cleared his throat and didn’t press. “Kenna, ask Cecily to come downstairs. We have no idea how Camille will respond once she’s confronted. She might have a weapon, and we don’t want her taking a hostage.” He turned to Lila next, jutting his chin toward her tranq. “I heard you’re awfully good with that thing. Fast, too. Have it out and ready, will you? Watch our back?”

  Dixon got to his feet, looking at Connell expectantly.

  “I had a feeling you’d volunteer too. I’d appreciate the extra pair of hands. She’s seen you at breakfast every morning. It won’t be odd to see you in the house.”

  “Will you summon your militia to help?” Lila asked.

  “Not yet. Her friend might see them gather and get tipped off. He might try to warn her before we take her into custody.”

  Voices hushed, they hammered out a plan.

  Chapter 26

  Kenna led Cecily through the house, explaining that her father had called early for the solstice and wished to chat over holo. The young woman trudged down the hall in blue flannel pajama bottoms and a matching hoodie, her unbrushed hair corralled into a messy bun. Her sock feet whacked against the wooden floorboards. Each step creaked noisily.

  Kenna quietly locked the door behind her.

  After the Cecily had settled into a conversation with her father, Mòr and her sisters locked themselves in a back bedroom, each armed with a sidearm and a rifle.

  Connell, Dixon, and Lila checked their own weapons, and the group padded down the corridor toward Cecily’s room, faces grim.

  A thousand images flooded Lila’s mind, images of how their confrontation might go wrong. Camille had years of experience with the house and the compound, learning every exit, every nook, a
nd every hiding place. In a chase, the soldier would easily best her and Dixon.

  Perhaps she already had.

  “Wait here,” Connell told Lila under his breath. “If she comes out before I secure the hallway, tranq her.”

  Lila crouched in the middle of the corridor while Connell locked the rest of the bedrooms, wincing every time a lock snicked too loudly or the keys rattled against one another in his grip. She extended her gun and fixed her eyes along the sight, finger riding the trigger, just in case Camille heard their movements and got spooked.

  The door didn’t open.

  Connell finally rapped sharply upon it with one knuckle, Dixon at his side. The pair did not wait for an answer. They both plunged into the room, weapons drawn.

  A woman murmured in reply. Furniture scraped against the floor.

  Lila’s arms grew heavy from waiting.

  “We’re coming out,” Connell barked at last. “Me first.”

  Gun dangling by his thigh, he emerged from the room, leading Camille from Cecily’s room. She’d either changed or been allowed to change into a pair of jeans, a sweater, and sturdy brown boots. She eyed Lila’s tranq gun as she passed through the doorway. “You too?”

  Lila nodded. “If you run, I will shoot you. If you move too quickly, I will shoot you. If you call out, I will shoot you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You might believe that getting shot with a tranq isn’t a big deal, but you’d be wrong. As long as your heart is strong, you should wake up in eight to ten hours, but the catch is that you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  “My heart is strong. You can shoot me if you wish, but you’ll waste a tranq in the process. I don’t have any intentions of running, and I’m unarmed.”

  “I frisked her myself,” Connell said. “She’s unarmed and has agreed to come quietly. A little too quietly, if you ask me. Let’s get to the basement before she changes her mind.”

  Camille stiffened. “No, don’t take me to the basement. Ask your questions here. I won’t try to get away. I promise. I’ll speak with you as long as you wish.”

  “You’re in no position to negotiate terms. We’ll talk in the basement. I won’t give you a chance to run away on my watch.”

  She paled. Her eyes swept to Lila. “Please, don’t let him do this. I’m begging you. You have to let me stay in this cabin. I will tell you whatever you wish to know. Just let me stay here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s not safe out there.”

  “Not safe for whom?”

  “For any of us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not who you think I am. You think I’m a mole, but I’m not.”

  Lila narrowed her eyes. “You’re an Italian soldier, sending secret communications back home to your commanders. How does that not make you a mole?”

  Camille dropped her eyes to the ground. “I don’t even know how to answer that anymore.”

  “Try.”

  “There is another. He’s the one you seek. He’s the one you should be worried about.”

  Connell lifted his tranq. “We’ll find him. But every second you spend unsecured on this compound is a risk to the people I love, so move. Now.”

  “I’d never hurt anyone in this house.”

  “Pardon me for not believing a word that comes out of your mouth.” The purplecoat nodded to Lila. “I’ll lead. You two back me up.”

  “It’s not the basement I fear, but him. It’s not me that I worry about, but you. All of you. When he sees me under guard, he’s going to come for me, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get me back or shut me up. He’ll end anyone who stands in the way.”

  “My people can handle it,” Connell said.

  “You can’t handle every bullet.”

  Lila wavered. “Who is the person you fear?”

  “My handler. If he shoots me, you’ll never find him, and you’ll never get the information you seek.”

  “Lila found you. She can find him too.”

  “This isn’t time for games,” Camille snapped, her sweet veneer tossed away. “Damn it, I’m trying to help you.”

  “If she dies, then we have nothing,” Lila pointed out.

  Connell shuffled his boots impatiently. “The way I figure it, her handler has no idea we’ve found her yet, but waiting gives him time to figure it out and make a plan. The oracle gave me orders, and I intend to follow them.” He withdrew his palm from his coat pocket and tapped upon the screen. “Reinforcements will arrive soon, and I’ve warned monitoring to keep a lookout for her friend.”

  “He’s not my friend,” Camille said. “And he’ll know. He always knows.”

  “That’s why I’m not taking any chances.” Connell stuffed his palm back into his pocket. “Be silent while we walk, outsider, or I’ll shoot off your kneecaps. You don’t need those to answer questions.”

  Connell started off, leading the group through the cabin. Dixon and Lila brought up the rear, their tranq guns trained on Camille in case she tried to run.

  When they finally stepped through the front door, a dozen grim-eyed militia met them, their guns at the ready. Nico stood before them, a particularly lethal set to his jaw. “We should tranq her now, chief. Transport will be easier, especially if she has a partner. He can’t carry her off the compound and hold a gun at the same time.”

  “No. Tranqing her will delay her interrogation by at least a day. The oracle wants to know what the outsider knows, and she wants to know it now.”

  Connell clomped across the porch. He stepped onto the asphalt lane that ran through the compound, his eyes searching every building they passed. The purplecoats surrounded the prisoner, like a flock of birds in diamond formation. Unlike the others, Lila watched Camille as she scanned the rooftop and the spaces between the buildings, as she flinched at every door and window that cracked open when they passed.

  A grackle landed a few meters away, flapping its wings.

  Camille jumped and sucked in her breath.

  “I don’t like this,” Lila said quietly, looking over her shoulder at the admin building, only a hundred meters away. “I suggest we take her to the admin building for interrogation and give everyone inside the day off.”

  Connell halted. “Why? Do you see something?”

  Lila peered around her. The little hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Not yet, but something’s not right.”

  A shot cracked above their heads.

  A chunk of a nearby cabin disintegrated into splinters.

  The group crouched. Nico pushed Camille down into the dirt, covering her with his body. The remaining militia twisted this way and that, searching for the gun.

  Connell found it first. “Cabin thirty-eight. Shooter’s on the roof. It’s a long-range rifle with a scope.”

  Another shot rang out, hitting Nico’s shoulder.

  A third blast pinged into the dirt beside him. Nico twisted to peek at Camille.

  A bullet had grazed her arm.

  “Nico, get her to the admin building,” Connell ordered, then turned his gaze to four of his purplecoats as well as Lila and Dixon. “You six go with him. The rest of us will go after the shooter.”

  Without another second to spare, Connell was off, static-riddled radio in his hand, calling for a lockdown of the compound.

  Nico didn’t check his shoulder. He merely picked himself off the ground, warm blood flowing down his arm, and gripped Camille’s hand. He sprinted as though racing Lila. The others struggled to keep up, making a wall to hide the Camille from the shooter.

  Lila and Dixon ran alongside them. Not for the first time, Lila wished she had a gun with bullets. Perhaps it was adrenaline or anger, but she didn’t even care if she killed the asshole. She merely wanted the danger gone. She wanted Dixon safe.

 
She couldn’t do that with heavy darts. They couldn’t hit a target so far away.

  Dixon seemed to have the same thoughts. He gritted his teeth, eyes tracking to Lila. The fear he’d shown months ago had passed. Perhaps he’d worked through it. Perhaps after getting poisoned and shot, he’d just assumed they’d get out of danger, just like they always did.

  Lila remembered feeling like that once, but she wasn’t sure she’d be so lucky this time, not after what had happened with La Roux.

  A series of shots rang out in the dirt, spraying wildly in the group. A male and female purplecoat cried out, one leg and torso impaled with bullets.

  Blood bloomed on Camille’s shoulder, matching Nico’s.

  Dixon grabbed one of the downed purplecoats and helped him along, barely pausing in his rush toward the admin building. Another purplecoat picked up the woman who’d been hit—Delilah, if Lila recalled her name correctly—and slung her over his shoulder.

  More shots rang out.

  Nico growled, hit with another bullet in his side. “Hurry up, slackers!” he roared, more to himself than anyone else.

  Another purplecoat had been hit in the exchange. The woman didn’t seem to notice though, and Lila wasn’t about to tell her until they were all safe.

  Bullets cut through their line once more.

  Lila sprinted forward and threw open the door to the admin building. Dixon carried the man he’d been helping into the lobby and deposited him onto a couch. The other purplecoats followed his cue, and Lila slammed the door behind everyone and locked it.

  She fell to the floor as bullets sprayed the wood.

  A dozen frightened admins huddled against the back wall, eyes wide, arms clasped around their chests. They screamed and cringed as bullets cut through the wood a second time, their faces paling, their bodies trembling.

  Nico put down Camille on a couch and reached for the wall to steady himself. Legs buckling, he slipped to the floor. Blood streaked against the stone as he sat upon the wood.

  He hadn’t been the only one shot in the abdomen. Camille gripped her side, blood streaming from her wound. “I told you he’d do whatever it took to shut me up. Why wouldn’t you listen?”