CURITIBA PARANÁ
Bryson watched Sage dig under the chassis of the SUV, finally coming out with a pair of keys.
Sage was leaner than Eric, with sandy-blond hair and calloused hands. Bryson tried not to be nervous that Eric had decided to bring in an outsider, but Bryson couldn’t help but notice the implication.
Eric didn’t trust X. It was the only reason that made sense. In the time he had known Adria, she had seemed solid about her relationship with X, and Bryson hadn’t pushed. But the closer they got to meeting him, the more Bryson realized that they didn’t know shit.
Sage straightened, flicked some grit from his jeans, then with a smooth motion lobbed the keys to Eric. The two shared a small nod, and Bryson watched as Sage hopped into the neighboring sedan, closing the door with a soft click. Adria moved to stand in front of the three of them. She looked stoic as always, but Bryson didn’t miss the way her hands hovered at her center. Almost as if she was holding her middle.
“X is the next stop,” she said. “Eric says it’s about a fifteen-minute drive from here.”
She glanced at Eric.
“I’ve never met X, and while I trust his intentions, I think everyone should know that going in.”
Kaydon was leaning against their new vehicle, and Bryson could feel Seth at his side. The weight of the next step seemed heavier than all their prior ones.
Before, it felt like they were just putting one foot in front of the other as fast as they could, but now it seemed they had come to the end of the line.
If X wasn’t who Adria thought he was. If he couldn’t help. Then, they were all dead.
“Let’s get going, boss,” Kaydon said, slapping the side of their new SUV.
It was a quiet drive.
Bryson tried to quench the rising tension by thinking about their prospects.
In theory, X would have a plan that would prove Jonathan’s involvement in their kidnapping. Ideally, X would also be able to help them name Johnathan’s accomplice. With their names cleared, they would be able to go back home.
Bryson tried not to dwell on the issue that he had a lot of theories and not a lot of facts.
Everyone in the car seemed to take in a collective breath as Eric pulled into X’s driveway. The road was surrounded by thick vegetation and cameras. Sleek black domes peered down at them from branches and poles alike, their lenses glinting.
Soon a tall iron gate, its bars twisted into ornate scrollwork, materialized ahead. Eric cracked his window and leaned out, speaking quietly into a microphone mounted on a nearby post. In an instant, the gate slid open with a low groan, revealing a wide, paved drive lined with armed guards—muscular figures in dark uniforms, rifles slung at the ready.
Bryson’s gaze flicked around the perimeter: small towers with narrow windows, searchlights tucked beneath overhangs, walls half-concealed by heavy vines.
“Who is this guy?” Seth said, taking it all in.
“He used to work for the Nine, back when my father was the Federov family head,” Adria said.
The drive curved upward, climbing the hillside through groves of citrus trees and neatly trimmed hedges.
Finally, they reached the house.
A house?
It looked more like a small shopping center.
When compared to Bryson’s sprawling manor, or even Vega’s, this place was massive.
They stopped in a semicircular drive, where the horizon opened onto a valley bathed in sunlight.
Bryson stepped out and inhaled, caught off guard by the view. Kaydon gave a low whistled. “I bet you can see half of Brazil from up here.”
“I think I can see the ocean,” Seth said under his breath, hand moving up to shade his eyes.
No one came running—no butlers, no attendants. They gathered their bags and moved toward the giant door, its surface smooth and dark. From a distance, it looked like polished obsidian, and as they got closer, Bryson realized it was.
