Page 47 of The Shadow Sanctum

I want my friend back.

Questions don’t pour from Angel’s mouth like I expect. Whatever plan he has, surely I have information that could help.

He shrugs.

My lips twitch as I search for words. “Well, I mean… Let me help you. I know a lot about this place. Just tell me what you need to know to accomplish whatever it is⁠—”

“It’s already done.”

The temperature oddly drops. I glance at the roaring fire as if I’ll find it snuffed. “What?”

“You remember that guy we hired a while back to hack into Fox Corps security feed?”

Angel hired. I was never that committed to my job. Still, I nod.

“The moment you tipped me off to your location, I had him go to work on the computer you were on. He got the albino cunt’s email, and as soon as she replied from her own computer, he was able to find the cult’s accounts. He moved some things around and filed IRS reports showing false deposits to Al-Qaeda.”

My brows pinch. “You had their accounts frozen.”

He nods.

“Then why the fuck would you give them hundreds of millions of dollars first? You just lost that money.”

“I needed them to let me in here.”

“Yeah, but…” My palm finds the dip in my temple, and I rub with quick strokes. “You could’ve just taken their money. You didn’t have to freeze it.”

Angel scoffs. “Spoken like a thief.”

“You’re joking.” My ass scrapes rock as I shift toward him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

He replies with nothing but a straight face.

I groan. Mottled scars scrub my face before I throw my hands up. “Goddamn it, Angel. Why does everything have to be so lose-lose for you? Fuck, can you not just⁠—”

“Sawyer.”

He stares at me seriously—a parent scolding a child.

“I don’t want my wife’s kidnappers’ money. I want my wife.” He hesitates a moment. “I want you. And I want these motherfuckers to hurt. All of them. In every single way imaginable. I want them to watch their money be taken. I want them to fear investigation. And when they think that’s the worst of their worries, I want them to die a slow, agonizing death worth every bit of two hundred million dollars to see.”

The cold hugs my spine while he talks. There’s a drumming in my ears that almost blocks out his voice, but I don’t take my eyes off Angel. I don’t squirm. As seconds pass, I realize I’ve stopped breathing.

If Luna’s image didn’t materialize, I wouldn’t know what caused the sudden race of my heart or loss of breath.

“How are you planning on killing them?” Spoken so evenly, I might as well have asked for the time.

He points toward his abandoned boot. “Check at the front, beneath the sole.”

I stretch out and drag the soddened leather to my lap, then snake my hand inside. I peel back the lip of the cushion to retrieve a small cylinder—a capsule. Almost like a pill, but too hard of plastic to swallow. The boot clatters on rock as I toss it Angel’s way. “What is this?”

“Deadly bacteria.”

The capsule slips from my fingertips and rolls to a pile of clothes. Angel chuckles.

“What are you planning on doing with it?” I stare at the capsule as my hand flinches with the bizarre urge to chuck it into the rain.

“It’s already done. That one’s just a backup.” He nods at the capsule. “I contaminated the flour at the mansion.”