"Yes."
"The files are down there. Encrypted. Level 10 security. Even I can't open them without a key."
"What key?"
"The Syndicate operates on a biometric consensus. To open the Black Vault, you need three retinal scans. Simultaneous." He holds up three fingers. "One: The Chairman. Currently unknown." "Two: The Treasurer. A man named Silas Vane." "Three: The Enforcer. Formerly Thorne."
"So we can't open it," I say, defeated.
"Not legally," Kaiser smiles. "But... if we were to introduce a... foreign agent... into the cooling system..."
"You want to destroy the servers?"
"I want topurgethem," Kaiser says. "If I can't read the data, no one should have it. But I can't do it. My contracts... my reputation..."
"You need someone else to pull the plug," I realize. "Someone who has nothing to lose."
"Exactly." He looks at me. "While your beast heals... you and I are going to plan a heist, Miss Fray. Inside my own facility."
[24 HOURS LATER]
I am sitting by the tank. It looks like a sci-fi coffin. Glass. Filled with a blue, gel-like fluid. Alaric is floating inside. He is naked. Tubes are connected to his neck, his arms, his chest. His hand—the ruined right hand—is encased in a mechanical brace, tiny lasers working on the tissue, knitting nerve to nerve.
He looks peaceful. For the first time since I met him, he isn't plotting. He isn't fighting. He is just... existing.
"He looks like a specimen," Kaiser says, walking into the med-bay.
"He looks like a man resting," I correct.
"The procedure was successful. Full nerve graft. He will play again. Maybe not concert level, but... functional." Kaiser hands me a tablet. "While he sleeps, I've been busy."
I look at the screen. It’s a schematic of the Syndicate's network. "I traced the login attempts," Kaiser says. "The ones trying to hack my servers after Thorne died. They are coming from a single location."
"Where?"
"A yacht.The Gilded Cage." I flinch at the name. "It’s anchored off the coast of Monaco. The Chairman is on board. He is calling a summit. To elect a new Enforcer. To deal with the 'Alaric Problem'."
"Monaco," I whisper.
"If you want to end this," Kaiser says, "you have to go there. You have to kill the head."
"We just got here. We have no army."
"You have me," Kaiser says. "And I have drones. I have resources. And..." He taps the glass of the tank. "...you have him. When he wakes up, he is going to be very, very angry."
Beep.The tank monitors spike. Heart rate increasing. Adrenaline levels rising. Brain activity surging.
"He's waking up," the technician says.
The fluid begins to drain. The glass lid slides open. Alaric gasps, his body arching, sucking in air. He coughs, the blue fluid spilling from his lungs. He opens his eyes. Silver fire. Undimmed.
"Elodie," he roars.
"I'm here," I say, grabbing his wet hand. "I'm here."
He looks at me. Then at Kaiser. Then at his hand in the brace. He flexes his fingers. They move. Smoothly. Without pain.
He looks at me, a dark, terrifying grin spreading across his face. "It works," he whispers.
