BRAM
Thanks to the outdoor lighting,the compound wasn’t entirely dark. But the light was concentrated around the pathways that wound their way through the palm trees growing around the property, and there was enough shadow in the in-between spaces to provide cover.
We moved in silently, each of us armed with one of Rafe’s guns and our knives.
And this time, we wore the Kevlar. We had something to live for now.
Adrenaline rushed through my body when we spotted the first two guards near the back terrace leading to the private beach. The guards were clearly on watch, although they carried their weapons lazily, like they didn’t expect any trouble.
The guards were all the confirmation I needed: Ethan Todd was here.
It was almost a miracle. Another miracle of Maeve’s. She’d been the one who remembered something Todd had said when she’d been in the dungeon in Romania, something about hating the cold, preferring the beach.
That was when we realized he’d been bullshitting, his reference to skiing an attempt to lure us to the wrong side of the world.
And it had almost worked. Almost.
Now we moved behind the guards, Remy and Poe taking them out with their knives while I moved toward the house.
We’d use Rafe’s guns if we had to, but guns were noisy. Better to stay under the radar as long as possible.
The massive villa was an easy mark: a lot of doors, many of them open to allow for the circulating ocean breeze. It told me that Todd felt safe here, that he was sure he’d shaken us off his trail, and that made what was coming even sweeter.
We moved through the first floor of the villa, clearing the rooms, looking for Todd. But there were only two more guards, both of them having a smoke near the front of the house, their weapons slung haphazardly around their bodies.
They looked like locals, probably mercenaries who had no real loyalty to Todd, regular joes looking for a paycheck in a place where the only way to get one was cleaning toilets or carrying luggage in one of the local hotels.
We left them in a pool of their own blood, their radios crackling, less than a minute after we came across them and started up the stairs to the second floor.
The staircase spilled onto a landing, and we started down a long hall, peering into mostly-empty bedrooms, obviously set up for guests, as generic as a hotel.
It was quiet. No music. No TV.
We passed a bedroom that might have been Todd’s — laptop on the bed, a few articles of clothing on the floor — but Todd wasn’t there so we continued down the hall.
There were only two rooms left, one on the left and one on the right. Either we were wrong and Todd wasn’t here — inwhich case why were there guards at all and why were the doors open — or Todd was in one of the remaining rooms.
Poe tipped his head toward the room on the right and Remy followed him in, their faces hidden behind their masks, while I stepped into the room on the left.
And there was Ethan Todd, sitting behind his microphone, two guards standing on either side of the desk.
Like he was fucking waiting for us.
The guards recoiled at the sight of me and it took me a second to realize it was because of the mask. It was like a second skin now.
Part of me.
I hardly remembered when I wore it, the monster I became behind its facade as much a part of me as the part that found a Christmas tree for Maeve, the part that had brought her Ray.
“I really thought I’d pulled one over on you this time,” Todd said.
He looked like what he was: a smaller-than-average guy with a larger-than-average ego. Someone who thought he was a King because he had a big mouth and a microphone to amplify the trash that spewed out it.
His brown hair was mousy, his features soft. If I didn’t know better and I’d passed him on the street, I would have thought he was someone’s dad, someone’s brother, someone’s teacher.
“As usual, it’s your mouth that fucked you,” I said, thinking about the things he’d said to Maeve in Romania.
He shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.” His gaze dropped to my knife, Maeve’s words — all of you — engraved on the blade. “Looks like you’re outgunned.”
