Valiant Reign

by Brooke Sivendra

  “I think we should all go,” Asher said, looking past his brother to his mother.

  Emilia stood and rushed to Asher. “Thank you,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around Asher. “You’re a great king, and an even better brother,” she said, so quietly Asher wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.

  She kissed his cheek and then hurried them to the door. Security teams had been assembled, indicating that someone—likely Samuel—had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

  The men led them to the garage and escorted them in individual cars. Asher knew the reason for this, but he tried to block it from his mind.

  He watched the mirrors and everything the security team did as they drove. When they arrived at the hospital without incident, Asher said a silent prayer of thanks.

  They were escorted to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit and were greeted by a nurse, who showed them into a private room.

  Asher’s heart stilled as he looked at the little boy sleeping in the bassinet. A mask was fitted on his face and leads hung off him everywhere, but he was alive.

  Alistair exhaled a shaky breath beside him.

  Asher realized he didn’t even know how old the boy was. Did his brother?

  He didn’t think now was the right time to ask, so he stored that question for later. Samuel probably knew, he thought absently.

  “Look at him,” Emilia said from beside him. “He looks like you,” she said with a small smile, looking to Alistair.

  “Does he?” Alistair asked. He leaned over the bassinet and held the boy’s hand. “Keep fighting, little prince,” he whispered.

  Asher glanced at his mother, who had tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Emilia stepped forward, stroking the boy’s cheeks. “I can’t believe it,” she said with a beaming smile while tears fell from her eyes. “He’s perfect.”

  Asher looked between his brother and his mother and decided to give them a moment. There was something important he needed to do.

  He checked in with security, not surprised they already had the information he needed. “Please take me to them.”

  Asher was encircled by security, noticing his team had seemed to double in size now that they were in a public setting.

  They took the elevator down a few levels and walked a maze of hallways before stopping at a door. Security knocked and then entered.

  Asher’s eyes landed on James Thomas and then on Reed, who was in the bed beside him with a large oxygen mask fitted over his face. He didn’t open his eyes, but Asher looked to the screen and knew enough to know he was alive.

  James mustered a small smile as Asher moved toward him.

  “Hey,” Asher said. “Thank you. I can’t thank you enough.”

  James shook his head slowly. “This is what we do,” he said with a croaky voice.

  Asher shook his head knowingly. “No, you go above and beyond.”

  “I won’t leave a man behind. That’s not who I am—it’s not who we are. Anyway, he’s valuable alive,” James joked, gesturing toward the bed before his mood turned somber. “And I definitely wouldn’t leave a child.”

  Asher nodded. “We owe you everything. I don’t know how big your bill is going to be, but I still think it will never be enough.” He grinned, even though he was honestly somewhat terrified of the bill to come.

  “Oh don’t worry,” James said with a grin of his own, “the bill will be plenty.” He chuckled. “Take a seat.” He tilted his head to the chair beside the hospital bed.

  Asher dragged it over.

  “What is the envelope you referred to before you went up through the trap door?” Asher asked.

  James’s eyes were distant, as if he’d gone back to that moment in time. “An envelope for my wife and daughter.” There was no smile on his face. “My job comes with considerable risks, and I’m not sure how many lives I have left. I’ve definitely used more than nine,” he said with a lopsided grin which faded as fast as it came. “The envelope has two letters, one for Mak and one for Serena. Samuel is to give it to them when my last life is used and I don’t make it home.”

  Asher opened his mouth to speak, but nothing seemed adequate. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I wouldn’t have asked if I knew it was so personal.”

  James shrugged. “I know everything about you, Asher,” he said, his grin returning. “It seems fair to share a few things about me. Anyway, the letters tell them everything I want them to remember . . . if I knew I was dying, it would be every last word I’d want to say to them. I know it won’t be much of a consolation, but it’d be all I could give them.”

  “Why don’t you retire?” Asher asked. “Why do you keep doing this?”

  James looked thoughtful for a minute. “Well, I was essentially retired until we got the call from Jesse,” he chuckled. “Seriously, though, it’s very hard to sit back and do nothing when you receive calls from people whose lives are falling apart and they’re being threatened. If you know you can help them, how can you say no?”

  Asher considered that. “But at what cost? At what point do you save yourself instead of others?”

  James nodded knowingly. “I know, and trust me, that is a conversation Deacon and I both had with our wives before taking your case.” His eyes widened and he pulled a face. Asher grinned as he imagined that conversation. “And that’s why, up until your case, Deacon and I had strategic roles only, and our bodyguards—guys like Reed—would go out in the field. But your connection to Vince made this case very different.” He paused, looking at Asher. “What do you know about Vince, other than he owns a portfolio of special hotels?”

  Asher tried to recall everything Jesse had told him, and he realized he knew startlingly little. “That he sets the rules and the world obeys.”

  James eyes swirled and a slight smile formed on his lips. “That’s one way of putting it. Vince’s hotels are essentially safe houses for men like me. As soon as you walk into one of his hotels, you’re safe. No one will touch you. If they do, Vince will make sure they don’t see sunrise. And he isn’t just a man of threats; he lives by his word and he follows through regardless of who you are.” James sighed. “A few years ago, his son broke the rules. Vince killed him.” He shook his head. “If my daughter did that, I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to follow through on the threat, but Vince did. He’s one of the most respected criminals in the world, and when he gives you his word, he keeps it.

  “Vince offered us a favor in return for taking this case. We don’t take on new clients, we haven’t for years, but Vince is a powerful man and having a favor like that up my sleeve might be the very thing that could save my family in the future. So, we made the call to take your case on. Our work has never been about money—past needing enough to live on—but it has always been about security: for our clients, and for ourselves and our families.”

  James looked away for a moment. “Life is a strange thing. One minute everything is smooth sailing, and the next, shit is hitting the fan and you’re scared to breathe. Our lives aren’t that different despite all the controls we have in place. We take every precaution we can, but we can’t predict what will happen. The one thing I can control, though, is putting things in place so if all hell breaks loose, I have every contact I need. And Vince is a very handy contact should that ever happen.”

  Asher shook his head. “Regardless of the benefit Vince is providing, I don’t think I can ever repay you.”

  James wore a smile but his eyes were serious. “You don’t owe us anything—except the bill,” he said with a quiet laugh. “And we’re not done yet. Today was a huge step in the right direction. Now that you have the boy, we have Troy locked up, Abi and your mother are safe, and Lamberi is dead, you can unleash without fear. Sure, your enemies can retaliate against Santina, but the faster and harder you hit, the less likely that’ll be. Your next move needs to be terrifying and unpredictable. Asphyxiate them with fear and then unleash every trick you’ve got up your sleeve. Strategy wins a wa
r, and this is a war.”

  Asher’s eyes blazed and a fire burned in his chest. He was ready. “And I hate to lose.”

  James grinned, and this time his smile reached his eyes. “Me too.”

  Asher

  Asher stared at the pages on his desk. He’d spent the last three hours strategizing, working out where to hit his enemies the hardest. He knew their pain points, he knew their egos, and he was ready to obliterate them. His enemies might doubt him, sometimes he doubted himself, but he would prove them wrong. He would not fail, and he would build on his father’s legacy. It would be the best way to honor his father.

  His eyes darted to the crystal clock and he yawned. It was midnight. He wanted to crawl into bed beside Abi, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Part of him was terrified; but surprisingly, another part of him was fired up. He wondered if this was how soldiers felt going to war.

  Asher picked up the phone. “Samuel, how easily can you find information on an event that occurred eighteen months ago? I want to look at something that happened in Adani.”

  “I can find anything,” Samuel said without hesitation, “but how easily depends on what you’re looking for. What do you need?”

  “I want you to look at a bacteria that contaminated some of Adani’s water supply. King Khalil has been working hard to repair his reputation since then,” Asher said, proceeding to give Samuel the date and event details.

  “Give me twenty-four hours to work on this and I’ll report back to you,” Samuel said, sounding like Asher had just given him a gift.

  “Thank you,” Asher said before he hung up the phone.

  He leaned back in his chair. Stage one in process; now for stage two.

  Asher pulled out the sale contract for the Lithe ruins—the holy site Alistair had sold to Adani.

  Testing had been completed by Thomas Security and it was indeed full of oil. As Asher read over the contract yet again, one major question glared at him, and so he picked up the phone again.

  “Hello,” Alistair answered.

  “Hey. How is he doing?” Asher asked.

  “Nurses say he’s a little fighter,” Alistair said, sounding proud. “God only knows what that means for my future.”

  Asher chuckled. “That’s good to hear. Keep me updated.”

  “Sure,” Alistair said, sounding tired. “How are the others recovering?”

  Asher’s eyebrows lifted. It was most unlike his brother to even think of asking after anyone else. Asher liked this version of Alistair—he hoped he was here to stay.

  “James is awake and conscious. Last I heard, Reed is still unconscious but he’s stable. He’s receiving oxygen therapy and will hopefully awake within the next few hours.”

  “That’s good news. I’d like to see them tomorrow,” Alistair said, sounding unsure.

  “I think they’d appreciate that,” Asher said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt, but he understood Alistair’s need to thank them.

  “Before you go . . .” Asher said, praying Alistair didn’t get defensive at his next words. “I’m looking over the sale contract for Lithe. How did you know there was oil there?”

  Alistair paused and Asher’s stomach churned. He knew he wasn’t going to like what came next.

  “I received an anonymous tip,” Alistair finally said.

  “How did you receive this tip?” Asher asked, fighting to keep his tone neutral.

  Alistair sighed. “At a party. I went to snort a line; when I came back to my seat there was an envelope with a check for one billion dollars and a phone number on the back. It wasn’t a real check, obviously; I was high, but even I knew that. I phoned the number and someone gave me the details and geographical location. I had nothing better to do, so I thought I’d check it out. A few days later, I received a phone call—this one from Martin Snider. The voice was different, I was sure of it, but he offered to help me make the deal. It went from there.”

  “I need the date of this party, the location, and what time you think this was,” Asher said, a plan formulating in his mind.

  “I can give you the date and location. Time . . . Asher, I was so high I barely knew my own name, let alone what time it was,” Alistair said apologetically.

  “But you remembered the sound of the man’s voice?”

  “I phoned the next day. The envelope kind of freaked me out. I wasn’t going to call, but then I did. I wish I’d never made the call. I’m sorry, Asher,” he said quietly.

  “I know,” Asher said, and for once he actually believed his brother. “Text me the date and location and anything else you can remember.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” Alistair said.

  Asher ended the call and put his phone down on his desk. He seriously questioned what Samuel was going to be able to do with this information. He was a computer hacker, not a magician.

  Asher ran his palms over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to sleep, but as he opened his eyes to stand he saw a new stack of mail he’d put aside that afternoon. He wanted to walk into an office with a clean desk tomorrow, so he quickly opened the mail and sorted it into tasks, like he’d done with Abi earlier that morning.

  He paused on a package—a box small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He knew Thomas Security scanned his mail for anything explosive, but as he held it in his hands, he couldn’t shake the unease that tightened around his neck like invisible chains.

  He opened the box like he was opening a box of delicate glasses. When he lifted the lid, his eyebrows rose high on his forehead.

  He looked at the tape recorder, which was sitting on a white card. Slowly, he pulled out the card and glanced at the words written on its surface.

  I thought you would like to know.

  He flipped over the box again. No sender name, just an address. Asher would send it to Samuel, but he already thought it was a dummy address.

  He turned the recorder over in his hands, his thumb resting on the play button.

  Asher took a deep breath and pressed the button.

  He recognized her voice immediately, but there was something different about it.

  “Abigail Bennett, describe your relationship with King Asher,” a male voice, one Asher didn’t recognize, said.

  “There is no relationship.”

  Asher stilled. When had this been recorded?

  “You were his girlfriend, correct?”

  “We dated a few times, and then . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  He heard what sounded like a slap, and Abi gasped.

  Asher assumed this had been recorded when she was being held. Had they drugged her?

  He felt sick, but he couldn’t turn the recording off.

  “And then what?” the male voice demanded.

  “What?” she asked, sounding confused.

  Asher’s eyebrows wove together.

  “How long did you date the king?”

  “The prince. He was a prince, not a king,” she said, her words slurred.

  “How long did you date the prince?” the man asked, sounding tired.

  “. . . I don’t know. A few weeks, maybe,” she said vaguely.

  Asher knew exactly how long they’d dated. He remembered every date clearly. But then, Abi wasn’t fully conscious—he could tell that from the few words she’d spoken.

  “How did you meet the prince?”

  Abi sighed. “Through a friend.”

  “Which friend?”

  Abi didn’t respond.

  “Which friend?” the man repeated, his voice raising.

  “Noah,” Abi said quickly, but her voice sounded hazy, like she wasn’t quite sure what she was saying—but everything she’d said so far had been true.

  “Why did Noah introduce you two? Wouldn’t there have been a conflict of interest?” he asked.

  “There were many,” she said slowly.

  “But one in particular: the feud between your father and the king,” the man said.

  “Hmm,” Abi
responded, sounding like she was falling asleep again.

  “Give me one good reason why Noah would introduce you two.”

  “IFRT,” she said.

  “Did Asher work for IFRT?”

  “No,” Abi said.

  “We know he provided border permission for IFRT,” a new voice said, and Asher wondered how many men were in the room with her.

  “Hmm . . .” Abi mumbled.

  “The prince betrayed his own father and he betrayed Santina by providing border permissions.”

  “Or he helped rescue hundreds of innocent women and children,” Abi said, her voice sounding suddenly stronger. “Sometimes we have to tell a lie to save lives.”

  Asher squeezed his eyes shut.

  “So you’re in the habit of telling lies, Abigail Bennett?”

  Asher heard the goading in his voice.

  An almost maniacal laugh came from Abi. “Asks the man who kidnapped me.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.

  “Take it however you please,” Abi retorted.

  “What about murder?” he asked.

  “What about it?” Abi responded, her voice sounding off again.

  “Do you sometimes have to commit murder to save lives?”

  “Sometimes,” she said.

  “So you’re a murderer?”

  “I do what needs to be done,” she said flatly.

  “So I’ve heard,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “Where were you on February second?”

  A moment passed. “I have no idea,” Abi said.

  “Let me help you . . . IFRT rescued thirty-five women from an abandoned school,” he said.

  “Then that’s where I would’ve been,” Abi replied.

  “And on that same day, sixteen boy soldiers were slaughtered by IFRT. Were you leading that operation?”

  “Probably,” she admitted.

  “So you gave the order to kill the soldiers? Village boys who had been taken captive by Lamberi’s men and turned into soldiers against their own will. Instead of rescuing them and returning them to their families, you slaughtered them. Isn’t that right, Abigail Bennett?”

  Asher couldn’t breathe.