Valentina: Okay.
Valentina should be safe. She's done nothing but give her loyalty to this twisted cult. And the image of her face with ELIMINATE across it won't stop hammering inside my skull.
I hit the parking garage, climb into my Mustang, and take the fastest route to Sean's penthouse.
Traffic is light. The city glints with glass, metal, money, and all the rot hidden between the cracks. I grip the wheel harder. Every street I turn down reminds me that Chicago operates under invisible rules the public will never see, rules dictated by an organization so powerful it has its own traditions, rites, and punishments.
They plan to steal my wife's eggs then kill her.
A rage so deep fills me. I can barely see. I park on the street, get through Sean's building, and into his penthouse.
The soft murmur of hushed baby noises drifts from down the hall, heightening my anger. Zara stands in the doorway, her hair in a loose knot, two swaddled bundles pressed against her chest. She rocks side to side with the ease of someone who's memorized their children's breathing patterns. She smiles in surprise, whispering, "Hey. They just drifted off. Walk quietly."
My throat tightens at the sight of the twins' tiny fists peeking from their blankets. They're pure innocence with zero knowledge of the kingdom their grandfather built.
I lower my voice. "Hey, Zara."
Her hushed voice warns, "If you wake them, I'm making you stay until two a.m. to rock them back to sleep."
"Noted. Sean in the office?"
She nods. "He's in one of his moods. You're officially warned."
"He tell you why?" I murmur.
Worry fills her expression. "Not yet."
I give the babies a final look and brush past her. I don't knock and open the door.
Sean stands behind his oversized desk, rolling his shoulders like he's minutes away from punching the wall. The second he sees me, he drags both hands through his hair. His voice is low but threaded with something sharp. "You saw everything I saw?"
I seethe, "That was a map of the future. And if we don't intercept, we're all dead."
He stays silent.
I bark, "They aren't getting to my wife's eggs, Sean!"
His jaw clenches. His eyes cut toward the window as though he canphysically see the Underworld moving through the streets. He finally pins a frustrated expression on me. "They're all involved."
"No shit."
"It's too large. We're fucked."
"Those are all semantics. The system is rotted beyond repair. It needs to be destroyed," I point out.
Sean leans against the wall. "You don't take down an empire, Brax. You maneuver around it. You cut off the pieces, try to devour it, and leave the structure intact. That's how you stay alive."
"No. You burn it to the ground."
He shoots me a warning glare. "You're talking about a death wish."
"Maybe. But it's the only thing that guarantees my wife won't end up on a slab having her eggs pulled out of her body every month until she's forty and they decide she's too old to breed."
Sean's color drains from his face.
I sarcastically grit, "I thought I was the only one feeling ill."
Sean's stare turns more lethal. "Of course not. And we don't know what's in the other files, either. You think I want Zara in danger? Or our twins?"
