Scarlett’s shoulders squared slightly—a subtle tell that she was already formulating plans. “What exactly is this demonstration supposed to accomplish?”
“The phoenix will rise,” Noah said, his voice dropping to near reverence.
“Your team keeps saying that. What does it mean?”
“Every ancient culture has its own version of the phoenix myth, but they all trace back to a single source. We’ve collected pieces from several civilizations around the world—the golden feather from Egypt, the talon from Rome, the beak from Mesopotamia.”
His eyes lost focus, his tone reminding me more of religious fervor than of the brilliant, dangerous manipulator he was.
“The Greek Fire liquid, when ignited near the assembled phoenix statue, will demonstrate healing capabilities that will change medicine forever.” Was he a true believer? Or was this another ploy?
“So why are you so worried about it?” I kept my doubt evident in my words.
“It’s not ready.” Noah’s face hardened. “The formulation is unstable. I’ve seen the test results?—”
He cut himself off, glancing around again.
I did the same.
Which was exactly his plan. He was behaving as though he were nervous, specifically to make me nervous.
“When Massimo was arrested, I lost a significant ally in tempering Enzo’s zealous tendencies. Then we lost Lark last week. And then? Your virus infected our systems and disrupted our communications. For fuck’s sake, everyone’s anxious now, and that’s slowly turning into anger.”
This sounded good to me. Anger led to mistakes instead of the cruel precision they’d orchestrated every job we’d gone up against them with.
Noah took a half-step forward, while Scarlett took one back. “Enzo is leveraging that to push the timeline.”
I moved closer so I could act if Noah did anything stupid. “Why should we believe you care about potential casualties?”
The fervor in his eyes flashed to fear. “Because, contrary to what you might believe, I don’t want innocent blood on my hands.”
“Just guilty blood?” I countered.
He leveled me with a cold glare. “That’s what it takes to change the world, isn’t it, soldier?”
The flicker of the guilt I’d felt for abandoning the car in Prague evaporated.
I breathed.
Flared my nostrils.
Let him know he was getting to me, while making it abundantly clear he was only still standing because I was practicing patience.
“How do we stop it?” Scarlett asked, ignoring our jabs at each other.
Noah reached into his jacket—I nudged the hem of my shirt up and gripped my gun—and withdrew a business card, offering it to Scarlett. “Event planners. They’re handling the concert setup. Get someone backstage.”
“For what?”
He shifted his weight off his injured leg. “They’re planning to use the sewer system beneath the amphitheater. The Greek Fire will be disseminated through the drainage holes in the floor during the climax of the performance.”
The description triggered an unwanted flash of memories. A dusty lab in Afghanistan. The sound of breaking glass. Brooke’s screams in my nightmares. The scars on Percival’s arm.
You’ll never see her without a turtleneck.
“What happened to your leg?” I asked.
His eyes widened, then narrowed quickly. “Twisted ankle. Had to make a hasty exit after our phone call. Jumped a fence, landed badly.”
