“You’re a fool for not taking the witch seriously. You’re a cursed man now, pakhan. Just like me. Count your days,” I heard Grayson say, before the door slammed shut.
Gemma was behind us, probably making sure that we were getting out alive. When we reached the exit door, she spun me around. “You need to stop this,” she whispered closely, so the guard walking us out couldn’t hear her. “You have no idea the danger you’re getting yourself into. Keep your head down and keep Grayson’s name out of your mouth. It’ll get you killed.”
I looked at the woman I had once called a sister. The woman I’d spent hours trading secrets with huddled under the same blanket. And my heart couldn’t bare looking at her another second. “I can’t do that, Gemma. He… he took so much from me. You all did. I can’t let that go. I won’t stop,” I answered.
She teared up, placing her hand over my cheek. “Oh, Ava… It’s…” She clamped her eyes shut, pulling her lips between her teeth as a tear fell over her cheek. “I’m so sorry.” Gemma gave my hand a quick squeeze, then pushed me towards the door.“Go now,”she mouthed.
“Monroe,” Owen called.
Gemma turned her gaze to Owen.
Owen looked past her at the guard and lowered his voice. “Thank you. For saving her. Us. I will return the gesture. You have an hour before we descend on this place,” Owen warned, and Gemma gave a stern nod. “But this changes nothing. We’re still coming for you. All of you,” Owen said quietly, pulling me through the door.
Gemma gave Owen a sarcastic smile as another tear fell. “You can try,Becket.”
Owen’s lips curved up the slightest bit as we watched her strut down the corridor in her studded heels, pushing the guard out of her way.
Ava
Twodayslater,Owen,Liam and I, were sitting in headquarters, watching Emerie and Marshall on the big screen, as they filled us in on what they could find out from Grayson’s art informant. They were still in Paris, and by the looks of it, enjoying every moment of their time together. But only I seemed to notice the twinkle in their eyes. Liam was under the impression that the two of them were probably at each other’s throats all day.
“We think we might have found something big. And I meanhuge,” Emerie remarked, barely able to keep her excitement under wraps. She shifted impatiently in her seat. “The informant is a dead end. He refuses to give them up. Loyal to a fault. But something he said had me wondering about the identities of the Apparitions.”
We all frowned.
“We know who they are,” Owen pointed out.
“Do we really?” Emerie hinted, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Out with it, Emerie,” Liam said impatiently.
“I think they might be the Collectors.”
“No fucking way,” Owen mumbled, a scowl on his face.
“Can someone please explain?” I asked, feeling just as impatient as Liam.
Owen turned his head slightly towards me. “The Collectors. Or so everyone calls them. They are an underground, black market group that illegally acquire and sell art, historical artifacts… any rare and expensive thing you can think of. They hold these auctions, now and again where all the rich and shady people get together to buy these items. It’s perceived as an honour and an ultimate testament of your wealth to receive an invite to an auction. It’s so well organised, authorities have never been able to intercept...Fuck!Of course, it’s them!” Owen stood from his chair, pacing the length of the room.
“Do you remember about two years ago when they caught that billionaire Mark Strudaux with a stolen Picasso, and he confessed to buying it from the Collectors? But in the file, you theorised that it might have been stolen by the Apparitions. Now, the Apparitions could have sold it to the Collectors, or…” Emerie trailed off dramatically, grinning like a fiend.
“My God…” Owen looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Why haven’t I thought of that? Emerie. Marshall. You don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. The Collectors are technically Interpol jurisdiction. They will snatch the Apparitions right out from under us. I’ll go talk to the director. Get his permission to view the files on the Collectors.” He came to a standstill, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “You’re right, Emerie. This is fuckinghuge.”
Emerie gave an excited laugh, Marshall only smiled, which meant he was practically bursting at the seams with excitement.
“Imagine that! We might’ve been huntingtheCollectors all this time!” Emerie mused.
“If that’s true, we’ve come closer than anyone has ever been able to.” Marshall’s lip was tucked up at the corner with pride. “What do we do now, boss?” he asked Owen.
“We need to be sure that the Apparitions really are the Collectors. Is there any way we can flip the informant? Make him a double agent?”
Emerie sighed in frustration. “Slim to none. But we’ll continue to hound him. Everyone has a price.”
I shook my head. “That’s a dangerous game.” If Grayson found out that we were trying to flip his art informant… We couldn’t lose him. We had nothing else.
Emerie leaned closer to the camera. “And if we play it, what’s our chances of winning?”
I thought about it for a while. Grayson was a clever bastard. But there was no way around it. We had to risk it. “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we? You should threaten the informant. Grayson likes to keep the people on his payroll scared. Use it to our advantage. Make him think that Grayson would kill him if he knew the FBI had asked him questions. Make him feel like he can’t trust Grayson anymore, like we are his only hope left.”
