Resting near a stack of forged passports is a heavy, matte-black satellite receiver. A small green light blinks steadily on the dark panel. A single-ear tactical earpiece is plugged into the jack, resting on the polished wood.
The psychological urge to obey his command wars violently with the absolute, terrifying need to know the truth. For eighteen years, I let men keep me in the dark. I let my father lie to me. I let Thayer orchestrate the destruction of my world because I was too blind to see the strings.
I am not that girl anymore.
I take a step forward. My hand is trembling so violently I can barely keep my fingers straight. I reach out and pick up the small black earpiece. The plastic is cold.
I press it into my left ear.
At first, there is only the heavy, rushing hiss of deep-sea static. I close my eyes, my breathing shallow, entirely prepared to hear nothing but empty frequencies.
Then, the static breaks.
"...thermal imaging from the drone confirms a structural heat signature. The villa is occupied."
The voice is crisp, professional, and entirely devoid of the heavy, gravelly accents of Syndicate killers or Commission thugs. It is the precise, heavily calculated cadence of federal law enforcement.
The floor completely drops out from beneath my feet. A wave of profound, debilitating nausea rolls through my stomach. The FBI. They found the island.
"Copy that, Alpha Team,"another voice responds through the encrypted channel."Coast Guard cutters are positioned at the twelve-mile limit. We are launching the stealth Zodiacs now. Lethal force is authorized. The target is heavily armed, highly trained, and extremely dangerous."
I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning bone-white, desperately trying to keep my knees from buckling. The entire United States government is descending on this tiny rock in the ocean. They are coming to kill the monster I love.
"Understood, Command,"the first voice replies."What is the status on the hostage?"
My breath completely catches in my throat. The hostage. Me.
"Assume the hostage is compromised,"a third voice cuts into the frequency.
The sound of this new voice completely freezes the blood in my veins. It is a deep, resonant baritone, but there is a familiar, haunting cadence to it that violently rips through the darkest, most buried corners of my childhood memories. It is an echo of my own blood.
"Thayer Thorne is a psychological predator,"the voice continues, dripping with absolute, venomous hatred."He has held her in complete isolation. Do not hesitate if she steps into the line of fire. I want Thorne’s head on a spike, and I will not let him use my sister as a human shield."
My sister.
The earpiece slips from my numb fingers, dropping onto the teakwood desk with a sharp, plastic clatter.
The world begins to spin in violent, dizzying circles. The dark, fuzzy static claws at the edges of my vision, completely suffocating the tropical light.
A brother.
I have a brother.
The memories hit me like physical blows. Faint, blurred images from when I was a toddler. A tall, blonde boy. The hushed, angry whispers between my mother and Arthur. The sudden disappearance. Arthur told me my brother died of a childhood illness before I could truly form memories. He erased him from the house, burned the photographs, and forbade his name from ever being spoken.
Arthur Vance didn't just hide a son. He weaponized him. He embedded his heir into the federal government, completely scrubbing his ties to the Syndicate, creating the ultimate, untouchable failsafe.
And my brother is currently sitting on a tactical raft, speeding toward this island, absolutely determined to put a bullet through Thayer’s brain.
A heavy, dark shadow completely eclipses the sunlight pouring through the study doors.
I turn around, my chest heaving with jagged, hyperventilating gasps.
Thayer is standing in the doorway. He is holding the encrypted tablet in his right hand. He looks at me, his eyes dropping to the earpiece resting on the desk, and then rising to meet my completely shattered gaze.
He knows I heard it.
"You knew," I whisper, the accusation tearing from my throat, completely raw and broken. "You knew they were coming. You knew who was leading them."
