Sloane said she felt a pull toward me, so why the fuck was she runningawayfrom me? I’m still pacing when I hear my phone ring on the kitchen island. I walk over to it and see the name “Elle” light up the screen. Elle is my private investigator. She’s been with the guys and me for a few years now, and she’s loyal to a fault. She’s also damn good at her job.
“Find anything?” I snap, without introduction.
“Well, hello to you, too, Riven. In a mood, I see,” Elle says.
“Yes, I am in a fucking mood,” I say, before shaking it off. I sigh. “I’m sorry, Elle. It’s just been a shit night. Did you find anything?”
“No worries. But yes, I did. It looks like your little two am window crawler is Leviathan Cristoff. He goes by Levi.”
“Levi?” I question. That name doesn’t ring a bell.
“Yeah, and get this. Turns out, he’s Sabel’s right-hand man … behind the scenes, of course. He’s her errand boy. She says, ‘Go fetch,’ and he does just that. My guess is that she sent him to look for evidence that you aren’t being honest with her about the frequency deal. Maybe even to find something to use against Sloane in the future, if it ever came down to it.”
Okay, so I was on the right track. “Can’t say that I’m entirely surprised. Did you find anything on these phases Sabel mentioned?”
“Yes, and you’re not going to like it, Riv.” She pauses. “You’re already aware that Sonus Corp is a biotech company as well as a record label, but Sonus belongs to the government.”
Shit. “What else?” I ask.
“Well, the government has Sonus running a psychological research initiative. Sabel told you it was primarily for sales, but that’s not entirely the truth. Through the frequencies, they were able to gain insight into neurological responses,emotional manipulation, and listener compliance.” She pauses, sighing heavily. “The data provided them information on emotional dysregulation and enough evidence of susceptibility to suggestion for them to … for them to—”
“For them towhat?” I press, growing impatient.
“They have enough data to suggest that they can manipulate empathy, aggression, and memories, even. Reverb is only the beginning. They’re reaching for mass manipulation, Riven. Probably for political control. I’m not quite sure yet, but whatever the end goal … it’s not good.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” I mutter. “And what of Sloane? Is she in danger as an outlier?”
“I’m uncertain, but I would wager that she could be. Especially given her career. Sabel has been keeping tabs on her, which brings us back to Levi,” she says.
Fucking Levi. I nearly forgot. “Do you have contact info on him?” I ask.
“Come on, Riv. You know I don’t half deliver. Of course I do. I’ll send you the details through an encrypted link.” She pauses. “But Riven, please. Be careful. The guy was pulled from a life sentence for strangling his entire family to death, and then drowning them in the Vesperine River. He’s dangerous.” I’d expect half as much if Sabel hired him. But fuck, murdering hisfamily? Dangerous doesn’t cover that.
“I will, Elle. Have some faith, will ya?” I tease. “Anyways, thank you. You’re the best. I owe you. Let me know if you find anything else on Sonus.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t die, and that will be enough. I’ll send the link. And, of course. Talk to you later.” She hangs up.
I get the link a few minutes later and click on it, reading through Levi’s physical description. There’s a photo of him attached below it.
Leviathan Cristoff. 45 years of age. 6’1” 200 lbs. Stocky, bodybuilder body type. Dark brown hair, short. Dark brown eyes. Olive skin tone. Profession: Inside jobs for Sabel Matthews and Sonus Corp.
I scroll a little further down, finding a phone number and address. Perfect. I’ll get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll pay Mr. Cristoff a little visit.
? ? ?
I wake in the morning to the low light filtering in through my floor-to-ceiling bedroom window. I must have been too tired to activate the shades. I roll over and sit up, reaching for my phone to see that it’s only six thirty am. I throw on some gym shorts and a pair of tennis shoes, heading to my outdoor gym that’s attached to the house. I could use a little stress relief right about now.
I tossed and turned all night after what happened with Sloane. I’m still no closer to figuring out what had her running like that. Usually, I’d chase her down. The look on her face, in her eyes, was enough to hold me back. She needed space from something. She needed space fromme. I don’t fucking know, but I do intend to find out after I deal with Cristoff.
? ? ?
After a much-needed two-hour gym session, I took a quick shower. I step out of the shower to grab my towel, and my eyes catch a pair of dirt-covered jeans in the corner. The thoughts that run through my head almost have me stepping back into the shower, but there’s no time. I towel off, grabbing a pair of black joggers and a black T-shirt from my dresser. I open up my mask drawer to grab one of my plain black masks when my handcatches on something. I look down and notice that the latch on my hidden box is open.
Fuck.
I quickly flip open the box to find it empty, as expected, and now I know exactly why Sloane left last night. This is bad. This isreallyfucking bad. I grab the box, staring down at it before hiking my arm back and throwing it at the wall. It breaks into two pieces, leaving a nicely sized hole in its wake. I grind my molars, instantly regretting my temporary loss of control. I run my hands through my hair and down my face, walking in circles around my room. What the fuck am I going to do? How do I talk my way out of this?
I take a deep breath, put on a mask, and walk out of my room to head for my bike. I do not have the time to think about this right now. This is going to have to wait. I’ll figure it out later. Right now, I know the perfect person to take this out on. I’m coming for you, Leviathan Cristoff.
