Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3)

by Furlong-Burr, Sara

  “He lied to you, Cameron.” Kara moved to take another step, but backtracked when Cameron eyed her uneasily.

  “My technology—my ideas have been responsible for so many deaths. It seems only fair I should die, too.” Cameron closed his eyes; the gun shook in his hand.

  “No,” Kara said. “Victor used you, Cameron. Like he used all of us. It sounds to me like you’ve been a victim, not a murderer.”

  “Victor never cared about me. He just wanted to use me like everyone else in my life.” He paused before beginning again, repeating himself. “Like everyone else in my life—”

  “It won’t always be that way,” Kara said, having taken a couple of discreet steps closer to him. “If you wanted it to, it could all end today. You could set yourself free. Just give me the gun and we’ll talk.” Cameron looked at her, contemplation evident in his eyes. “Just put it down and slide it over here, and we’ll talk. Together, we’ll find a way to right everything again. You won’t be one of Victor’s pawns anymore.”

  “And I won’t be one of yours either,” he said, a tear falling down his cheek. “For the first time in my life, I’m in control.”

  “Yes, yes, you are. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” She extended her hand to him. “Give me the gun—please.” He removed the gun from the side of his head and moved to extend it out toward her. “That’s it,” she said, relieved. “Just a few more inches and you’ll be free.” He stopped short of handing it to her, his eyes hardening. “Cameron.”

  He shook his head, drawing the gun back toward his body. “No,” he said. “Freedom isn’t afforded to the living. I’ve hurt too many people and have seen and know too much to ever be free again.”

  “Cameron, stop,” Kara said with tears in her eyes.

  “Cameron, just put the gun down,” Drew said.

  “Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

  “Cameron!” Drew screamed as he lunged toward him.

  Without hesitation, Cameron positioned the gun at his temple and fired, his body slumping against Drew on its way to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty

  The Wager

  “What happens now?” Drew asked, his eyes frozen on Cameron’s lifeless body, which they’d wrapped in a sheet and carried to the operating room. Together, they’d placed him on a gurney, unsure of what to do next.

  “I need to find Celaine and Ian,” Kara said. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears that refused to quit falling. She diverted her attention away from Cameron and found Drew eyeing her as though she were crazy. “If Victor is planning an attack at Chase’s wedding and I don’t tell Celaine, she’ll never forgive me. If she knows ahead of time, if she and Ian can catch him by surprise, maybe they can end this.”

  “You can’t go by yourself,” he said, his eyes trailing up from the sheet to her tear-stained face. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Drew. I need you to stay here and try to access the program that’s controlling the soldiers. We need to do what we can to deactivate it. Without it, Brooks won’t have an army to hide behind anymore.”

  “But you don’t even know where they are. They could be just about anywhere in the Capitol. What if you’re captured or—or killed?”

  “I would much rather die fighting than with my tail tucked between my legs. When my sister died, I promised I would do everything in my power to find the people responsible and ensure that they never did the same thing to anyone else again. Now that I have the chance to finally make my promise mean something, I have to act on it, or my promise would have been just empty words.”

  He nodded. “Promise me you’ll come back?”

  She smiled as she turned to walk out of the room. “You can count on it. I have some unfinished business to tend to here.” When she reached the doorway to the operating room, a thought struck her, causing her to pause. “Oh, and Drew, gather up the rest of the explosives while I’m gone. I have an idea.”

  *****

  I walked along the pallets that made up the perimeter of the arena, observing Gage and a rebel named Rob—who’d joined us earlier in the day from New York—sparring inside. On the opposite side of the arena, Ian made the same rounds, observing Rob, and occasionally shouting words of encouragement to him from the sidelines. In preparation for the anticipated fight, we had spent the bulk of yesterday and today in the arena throwing each other, as well as anyone else who wished to learn to fight, around.

  When I rounded the corner to walk along the side of the arena that Ian had just walked across, I noticed Aron shooting me the evil eye as he rubbed his arm, no doubt recalling our time in the ring together. Being roughly twice my size, everyone except Ian and Jill had wagered on him to take me down. He’d been energized and all too cocky as he stood facing me before we began, winking at me as though I were just some girl he’d seen walking down the street, defenseless and utterly incapable of handling herself in front of him. But after we were signaled to begin and he threw a few punches, all of which failed to make contact with any part of my body, I grabbed onto his arm and threw him over my back, ending the match much to the amazement of our spectators and the utter glee of Jill. He’d landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him and his pride forever broken. Since then, we’d had few volunteers and had to take to training fighters to put on matches of our own.

  “Watch him, Gage,” I called. “He’s been leaning to the left a little before each swing.”

  “Quit leaning to the left before you swing, Rob,” Ian called out, shooting me a mischievous smile. Ian and I had a wager of our own on this fight, the outcome of which would be interesting considering the opponents were of the same build with around the same fighting experience—which was none, to be exact. Though I hadn’t thought of what I would make Ian do if I were to win, by the look in his eye each time Rob landed a blow to Gage, I could tell that he already had his prize figured out.

  Ian cringed when Gage landed a blow to the side of Rob’s face, sending him to the ground. Rob remained on the floor, unmoving for several seconds before showing signs of consciousness. “Come on, Rob,” Ian said, clapping his hands together. “They aren’t going to show you any leniency tomorrow, so we aren’t going to afford it to you today.”

  Gage backed up as Rob pushed himself up from the floor to face him again. “Okay, Gage, do what you did before and take him out. He won’t get back up again,” I said, causing Rob to flip me off. They circled each other around the arena, both of them sizing each other up, waiting for the other one to make the first move. Impatient, or maybe a little over confident, Gage initiated the first strike by taking a swing at Rob’s face, which he blocked. When his swing missed its mark, Gage lost his footing and stumbled forward. Rob, taking advantage of Gage’s sudden handicap, grabbed his arm, spun him around, and struck him on the side of the head with a blow of his own. Stunned, Gage fell to the ground, unmoving.

  He remained on the ground for several seconds before Ian began the countdown to signal the end of the fight. “Ten...nine...eight…seven…six.” Gage’s eyes fluttered open and Ian paused. But after a low groan and no sign of him even attempting to move from where he lay, Ian began the countdown where he left off. “Five...four…three.” He looked up at me and shot a wicked smile in my direction. “Two…one,” he said, finishing it. “End of match—I, I mean, Rob is the winner.” Triumphantly, Rob strutted out of the arena, where he found himself greeted by high fives and pats on the back. Tucker ran over to Gage and helped his brother up into a sitting position.

  “Can I have your attention, please,” Nicholas announced, interrupting Rob’s celebration. “Everyone, please gather around the table. We have much to discuss for tomorrow.”

  *****

  “You seem like you’re a million miles away, right now,” Jim said to his son as Chase stared off into the sky’s darkening expanse. “Of course, you are getting married tomorrow, so I guess you have a right to have your head in the clouds.”

  “Yeah,” Chase said, a response he had
n’t been expecting.

  They sat at a small table outside the bar on the patio of the hotel the wedding party was staying at. In front of Chase sat a beer, still three quarters full, virtually untouched in the hour they’d been there. One by one, buildings grew dark around them, bathing the city in shadows.

  “You need to finish that drink, I have a feeling they’re going to be closing up shop soon. Actually, I think they’ve already stayed open longer than they were supposed to.” Jim checked his watch and looked nervously around the patio.

  “It’s a hotel,” Chase said flatly. “I think it’s safe to assume no one is going anywhere for the night.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said, eyeing his son suspiciously. “Chase,” he said after letting a couple of minutes of silence pass between them, “whatever it is, you know you can talk to me. This suffering in silence bullshit isn’t how you were raised.”

  Surprised by his candor, Chase snapped out of his thoughts and returned to the conversation with his father. “Do you kiss my mom with that mouth?” he asked. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

  “That’s the son I know.” He laughed as he saw the light returning to Chase’s eyes. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s got you so lost in thought, or do I need to guess?”

  “I’m a horrible person.”

  “What? No child of mine could possibly be horrible. Now, your mother’s children, on the other hand—”

  “You’re full of it tonight,” Chase said, laughing. “Have another drink, Dad. Better yet, here, have the rest of mine.” He slid the glass across the table next to the empty one in front of Jim.

  “What makes you a horrible person? Pre-wedding jitters? Second thoughts? I need something to work with here, son.”

  “Everything—all of the above.” Chase avoided eye contact with him in favor of looking around at the empty patio, knowing that he would never be able to adequately express his thoughts if he were to see the concern in Jim’s eyes.

  “You know, you don’t have to go through with it tomorrow. Just because the money has been spent and the invitations mailed, that doesn’t mean you’re locked in to the commitment.”

  “I know, and it’s not like I don’t want to be married, I’m just—I’ve just been—” his voice trailed off as he struggled to find the right words to say.

  “You know, when I met your mother, I knew I had found someone who was going to be special to me; someone I not only could see myself spending the rest of my life with, but who I never wanted to spend one single moment without. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could think about was her; all I could hear was her voice in every song on the radio.” He looked up at his son to find him smiling, deep in thought. “And the day before we were to be married, I cursed every second that stood between us and our saying our vows. Never once did I question whether I was making the right decision. I just knew. So why don’t you do me a favor and close your eyes?”

  “Dad,” Chase said. “Seriously, I—”

  “Just humor me,” Jim interrupted him. “I may be an old man, but I still know what I’m talking about.” With a sigh, Chase closed his eyes as Jim spoke. “I want you to think about your life, your hopes, your dreams. Envision your future wife walking down the aisle toward you, and you committing your life to her, promising her forever. Now envision her later giving birth to your children and then you raising them together from infancy to adulthood as a team through illnesses, school plays, teenage rebellion, and graduation.” He paused to allow Chase time to process his request. “Finally, envision yourself with her sitting on a porch swing in your later years with only each other as company, reliving your lives together. Will you have had any regrets about the decision you’re going to make tomorrow? But most importantly, was Paige present in any of the scenarios I just had you envision?”

  Chase’s eyes flew open as he stared at his father. A knowing look was present on Jim’s face, telling him that he needed no vocal answer, that he already knew how his son would respond. “Life is full of tough decisions, Chase. Decisions that may make a person seem horrible, when in reality that decision was the most humane thing they could have done. A person isn’t horrible for having second thoughts, for realizing they’ve made a mistake and deciding to correct it before it’s too late. What makes a person horrible is when they do nothing. When they string other people along with them through their misery when they could have let them go and find happiness elsewhere. What’s horrible is seeing the light leave your eyes and taking theirs with it.”

  Chase nodded, his words failing him as he had so many he wanted to say, but he found his thoughts battling with each other, unwilling to let the other escape first. A waiter emerged from the door of the bar’s restaurant and checked his watch. “I think that’s our cue to go inside,” Chase said, thankful for the momentary interruption. He stood up after leaving a tip on the table and walked back into the bar with Jim following closely behind him.

  They remained silent next to each other on the elevator ride to their rooms, and again during their walk down the hall. It wasn’t until Chase reached the door to his room that Jim finally spoke again. “I love you, son,” he said simply, pausing outside his door. “And I know you’re going to make the right decision tomorrow, whatever it may be.”

  *****

  We sat on the bench of pallets constructed to accommodate everyone during dinner, eating lukewarm stew from bowls made out of everything from wood to plastic. Scant in meat, the stew went down easily, satiating the gnawing hunger I’d been trying to ignore during the day. Next to me, Ian finished his bowl and set it down in front of him, stealing a glance at Nicholas, who sat with a blank expression on his face. Around us, both sitting and standing, the others ate their meal in silence as though sensing the dark cloud that hovered over the room, enclosing us within its walls. This meal—this modest, though satisfying, meal—may be the last one most of us will eat.

  At the head of the table, Nicholas cleared his throat. “I just want to start out by thanking each and every one of you for being in this room tonight. It’s because of your bravery, because of your unwillingness to lie down without putting up a fight, that we have been able to amass an army that at the very least may make others stand up for themselves against the injustices being carried out throughout our country.” Around the table, many of the others nodded. “Tomorrow, we will lead a march on the Capitol. We will converge with others from the other units and, together, we will make our voices heard. We will let the country know that this way of life they’ve all grown to accept as their new reality is not acceptable and that change is possible. Together, we will work toward bringing about that change, even if our efforts aren’t fully realized tomorrow or a week from now. Our purpose will be to open a few eyes, to reinvigorate the fighting spirit that I know is still present throughout our country, and to make the people realize that change begins with them. Many of us will die, few of us will make it back, but in the end none of that matters if our voices are heard.”

  Ian brushed his hand over mine as his eyes remained fixed on Nicholas, who began speaking again after a brief pause. “We will have a couple of people stay back and operate the laptop if we regain power, as there will be those of us equipped with cameras, capturing the fighting the way it really is and not the way Brooks wants it presented. If we have power, the images will be live-streamed to the laptop, where we will attempt to hack into Brooks’ broadcasting channel, prompting teleprompters around the country to spring into action. Across the country, members of the other units have stayed back and are planning a simultaneous attack on the substations to restore and keep power flowing to the people, so they can have the opportunity to see what’s going on and to know there are people out there willing to fight so that they don’t have to live in fear.”

  “Or that their fear has been misplaced,” Ian said.

  “Quite,” Nicholas said, giving Ian a small smile. “It’s important to show them all that they haven’t crippled us by taking
Marshall away and that our resolve remains true. And though we will do everything in our power to fight for his return, even if we fail, our rebellion will still live on without him—and without us, too.” Though he tried to remain composed, even strong, a certain despair had grabbed hold of him, weighing him down as he spoke. “But tonight we rest. So I suggest you enjoy each other’s company, gather up your gear and weapons to have ready for tomorrow, and know that, no matter what, what you are doing tomorrow will matter in some way to someone.” He stood up from the table to excuse himself before adding, “Our attack will begin at noon. Good luck and God speed to you all.” One by one, everyone at the table began to clap as Nicholas nodded and turned to walk away with the knowledge that his words would do little to comfort those whose lives would be lost tomorrow.

  “Come on,” Ian said, standing up. I pushed my bowl to the side and stood up, excusing myself from the table. Jill nodded, giving me a blank stare as though her mind was light years away. Ian walked over to our shelving unit and climbed up to our compartment, holding the tarp open for me to climb through it. From this height, we were level with the windows of the warehouse, which revealed that nightfall was fast approaching, heralding what may be our last few hours together. Below, others were clearing the table as they left to make the most of the few hours they had remaining. Few even laughed as some of them joked around, mainly at Drake’s expense. I wondered how many of us would be around this time tomorrow and whether there would be any jokes left to exchange. “Hey,” Ian said, diverting my attention back to him.

  I climbed into our compartment, noticing that he’d done some redecorating at some point during the day. Instead of clothes, two thick blankets lay in the middle of the compartment, making up our new bed. Another blanket, tattered and dirty, hung from another side of the compartment, fully concealing our space and providing us with complete privacy. For pillows, he had found duffel bags, which appeared to be stuffed with something to give them enough mass for us to rest our heads on them comfortably.