All because of him.
“That has to be the target,” he thought out loud.
“We know where to go,” Hamish said, his expression determined. “Which means we can anticipate him and stop this once and for all.”
“It’s not that easy,” Percy said. Knowing the location turned all his plans sideways. He hadn’t calculated a houseful of servants, or the disadvantage of an estate of blocked sightlines.
When he’d thought to lay out their line in St. Giles, the roof access and dozens of eyes would’ve kept their trap from springing prematurely.
But with hundreds of acres and an unknown number of associates on Nic’s payroll, there was no way of pinpointing the direction of infiltration in the country. Any change of routine, any personnel not where they were supposed to be would tip Nic off.
Which left those whose presence wouldn’t be thought of as suspicious.
Percy would rather shred his arm from a bear trap than involve his friends.
“Percy.” Hamish’s hand fell on his shoulder. “Talk to us. Tell us what you need.”
Renard snorted. “Not even you believeHis Secretivenesswould ask for help.”
No one would believe it.
The Home Office taught cooperation, obedience, but secrecy more than anything else. Percy had grown to rely only on himself, divulging plans on a need-to-know basis. If no one knew the full plan, a single setback wouldn’t cripple a mission because contingency steps would be in place.
Percy gritted his teeth. He’d become as predictable as Nic with his actions.
And that was why Percy always lost.
If there was any hope of taking Nic down, there could be nothing held back.
Percy fought his gut reaction to keep his thoughts silent and chewed on the words before he finally said, “I need your help.”
Renard startled. “Really?”
Gregori—the loveable scamp—blurted an out-of-character, “Bullshit!”
Hamish was the only one whose expression never changed. He leaned against the nearest table and inclined his head. “What’s the plan?”
Percy returned his friend’s composure with gratitude. They’d all need to keep their heads for the chaos to come. “Call in the troops,” he said, stomach in knots. “We’ve a score to settle.”
The gamble would decide all their fates: Hamish’s, Charlotte’s, Renard’s, Camille’s... Danny’s.
Though slim at best, together, there was a chance.
Percy prayed he was right. The consequences of being wrong were too great to comprehend.
