“No.” Chey sounded adamant. “Too many things can go wrong.”
“Unless we get someone to crack—and I seriously doubt that we will in three hours—our options are very limited,” Leander said.
Elias met Leander’s gaze across the room. He understood without asking that Leander was considering his suggestion.
“But he’s got his arm in a cast and a head wound, not to mention the other smaller injuries,” Chey said. “He can’t fight back, at least not like he normally would. What if it comes down to that? We’d be putting him in a precarious position and at a deficit, no less. No. Just no.” She shook her head and waved off the idea.
“I think we should do it. Start planning now. We’ve only got three hours and we’re going to need every moment to beat these people at their own game. I’m willing. I’m not afraid to put myself in a precarious position for him, Chey,” Elias said.
“If we fall back on finding the mole in the ranks, it could take hours. Hours we don’t have. Even if we got the person to break after an hour or two, we still have to gather a strike team and travel to the location to free Sander. They could be anywhere, even across the border. Can’t take our military over the border without permission, which eats up more time,” Jeremiah added.
Chey rubbed her forehead while she paced.
Elias understood her distress, even if he felt distanced from it. The drive to act, to do something, was as strong as his need to breathe. He wasn’t sure what was compelling him to make these decisions; he only knew it felt right. This was what he would have done before the accident, he was sure of it. That knowledge only fueled his desire to follow what his gut instinct was telling him.
In the midst of negotiations, the door opened and Mattias stepped in.
“Just in time, Mattias,” Leander said.
Elias locked gazes with his uncle. The sleek, sophisticated man with dark hair and dark eyes did not spark an immediate memory. Nothing about him was familiar, which was disappointing in the extreme. The only reason he knew it was Mattias was because Leander had called him by name. Otherwise, Elias would have passed him on the street like any other stranger. He banished the thoughts of amnesia from his mind.
There were bigger things to worry about at the moment.
“Hello,” Mattias said. He closed the door and paced deeper into the room. “First, we have no updates about the questioning. Although we’ve narrowed down the list of probable suspects, no one is talking yet. That gives us precious little to go on.”
“Elias has just suggested using himself as bait,” Leander said.
“And I don’t think it’s a good idea at all,” Chey added.
The tension in the office ticked up another notch. Elias could feel it on the air, see it in the posture of everyone present. He was tense, too, but ignored his physical discomfort in favor of making a plan.
“Everyone has already admitted we don’t have much time. This seems like the best, safest route.” Elias met everyone’s gaze in turn. Jeremiah, Leander, Chey, Mattias. He attempted to reinforce his belief that the plan was a good one with a direct, forthright stare.
Mattias strolled past both desks, hands in the pockets of his pants. He wore a gray suit and polished shoes, and moved like a man who could handle himself.
Like Sander, Elias thought. Both men were equally confident and self-contained.
“I know you don’t like the idea, Chey, but it does have some merit,” Mattias said after several minutes of silence. “This whole operation, with the use of explosives and the deaths of so many guards leads me to believe that these people will kill Sander in three hours if we don’t do something about it. I’m sure you agree that his life isn’t worth risking.”
“Of course not. But you’re asking me to trade one life for another.” Chey swept a hand toward Elias. “He’s not a hundred percent. He can’t defend himself properly if necessary.”
“I know Chey,” Mattias said quietly. “That’s why we’ll be there. He won’t have to defend himself if we get the upper hand.”
“And if you don’t? Things go wrong all the time. That’s my husband and my son we’re talking about.”
“And it’s my brother and my nephew. Trust me when I say we’ll be pulling out all the stops on this one.”
Elias followed the conversation between Mattias and Chey like a ping-pong match. Back and forth, one after the other. Each made good arguments, and he didn’t interrupt again to assert his position on the matter.
He understood that it wouldn’t ultimately be up to him to decide what the outcome would be.
“I’ll be there, too,” Leander said.
Chey continued to pace. Finally, after several minutes of agonizing silence, she paused next to the fireplace and faced Mattias. “Do what you need to.”
“Excellent,” Mattias said. “Elias, Leander, let’s start making plans.”
Chapter 24
Sander jogged through the shadowy forest, directionless but constantly moving forward. He sought paths and found none, not even skinny deer trails. Some parts of the forest floor were clear of all but pine needles or leaves; other parts were laden with bushes, smaller trees and other plant life that made forward progress difficult.
He changed trajectory twice when the trees and brush simply obliterated the landscape, creating a green barrier impossible for a man to navigate. Whether he was still in his own country or another was a mystery. He hadn’t reached any sign of civilization or seen structures that might give a clue one way or another.
At least the echo of braying hounds had diminished to nothing. He heard no other calls or shouts of humans on the hunt, which was an encouraging sign. He didn’t for a second think his captors had given up the search but, for the time being, it appeared he had evaded the first wave.
Several minutes later he heard the distinct burble of a nearby stream. In dire need of a drink, he veered through the trees and came upon a four-foot-wide creek. He knelt at the water’s edge and used his hands to scoop up two large mouthfuls of clear, chilly water. The bend in his spine added stress to the embedded bits of shrapnel, creating new fissures of pain that bloomed across his back like fireworks.
He splashed his face with water after sating his thirst and sat back on his haunches.
“Put your hands behind your back. Slowly.”
Sander reacted the instant he heard the man’s raspy voice. He plucked up a rock from the ground and hurtled it sideways in the direction he thought the intruder would be. It was a quick action. From thought to movement in a second. That he hadn’t heard the man approach was unusual and a little alarming.
He looked in time to see the rock glance off the shoulder of a man dressed in black. A dog stood on point at the end of a long leash, ears pricked forward and eyes gleaming, but otherwise utterly silent. Sander surged to his feet as the man absorbed the rock strike and pulled the trigger of his gun. Sander saw the weapon too late.
What hit him wasn’t a bullet at all, however, but a dart that struck him in the thigh. Another snapped against his shoulder.
He swiped at the offending tranquilizer darts and pivoted to run in the other direction, curses streaming through his mind. Sander felt the effects of the drugs hit his system before he’d taken ten steps.
As his legs gave out and he hurtled toward the ground, his last thought was the bastard is one of us.
An intense, burning pain yanked Sander from darkness. He lifted his head an inch, too groggy to bring his surroundings into focus. Survival instinct demanded he move, get up, run. But he could not move his arms or his legs.
He was facedown on a rough-hewn table and had been stripped to the waist.
Someone stood at his left side, leaning over his back. Sander jerked against his restraints as another sharp pain resonated near his kidney. Was he being stabbed? Cut open? Mutilated?
“Hold still,” a man somewhere else in the room said.
“This one is deep. It will hurt,” said the man leaning over his bac
k.
Sander hissed and bit down on a shout as the man slid a piece of shrapnel from his skin. That was what was happening, he reassured himself. No stabbings or mutilations. A moment after that he realized that the men were speaking his language. He’d been right about the man in the woods being a Latvalan citizen, as were the men holding him hostage.
They were traitors to their core.
An hour later, with the shrapnel removed from his skin, Sander was upright in a chair, hands bound behind his back. He was in the same barn he’d escaped from, the scent of hay heavy on the air.
Four men stood before him dressed in hunting attire. Their dogs sat behind them near the door, ears perked. Watchful but silent.
“What is it you want from me?” Sander asked. His tongue felt thick, his head still fuzzy from the tranquilizer drugs. He had no idea how he’d been transported back through the woods to the barn, and didn’t really care. The hunters had pulled a fast one, setting two sets of teams loose to track him. One set with loud braying hounds, the other with silent dogs that led their owners through the woods on his trail. His subterfuge with the tree hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.
The burning question of whether he was in Latvala or Russia had been answered: he was still in his homeland, held by his treasonous countrymen.
“We have issued an order for your people to bring Elias to us. If they do not, you will be shot where you sit,” one of the men said. He was tall and broad through the shoulders, hair hidden beneath a black knit cap. Blue eyes peered out from beneath a heavy brow.
“They won’t bring him,” Sander said. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Won’t bring him to save the king of Latvala? Oh, I think they will.”
“You don’t know my family very well. We don’t negotiate with traitors.” Sander jerked his chin to remove a length of damp hair from his brow. He only realized the dampness was blood when a crimson dot landed on his bare chest.
He was a mess of bruises, cuts, and wounds, both from the explosion and the capture.
The lead hunter smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “You underestimate your own worth, I think. Besides, we know Elias has no memory of his past. What good is he to the crown without that?”
“So what’s the end game here, then?” Sander answered a question with a question. He’d already discovered that whoever was behind all this was someone with intimate, inside knowledge of the royal family. Someone from the hospital or the small circle of trusted guards who had helped bring Elias to Kallaster.
Men Sander had handpicked. It just reinforced the idea that the right manipulation from outside forces could overcome even the most loyal of men.
“The eradication of the Ahtissari line, of course,” the man said.
Sander thought of him as Chippy. “For what purpose?”
“The annexation of Latvala.”
“You’re awfully free with your information,” Sander said.
“There is no reason not to be. I’m of the mind you should know what will happen to your country before you die.”
“The annexation of Latvala to Russia? Are you moles, then?”
“Let’s just say we believe Mother Russia will be a safer overlord for the upcoming war.”
“I can’t tell if you were approached by Russian intelligence to betray your country, or if you’re acting alone with the intent to hand Latvala over on a platter once you’re done here.”
Chippy didn’t smile that time. “Enough questions.”
A squeak of hinges heralded the opening of the barn door.
“I have Prince Mattias on the phone. He is asking for proof of life,” a man said, holding up a phone.
Yet another compatriot belonging to the group. Sander studied the men as they silently made a decision whether or not to allow him to speak to Mattias. Chippy snatched the phone and held it toward Sander’s mouth.
Sander did not waste time with needless greetings. He got right to the point.
“Do not do what these people are asking. I forbid it. Elias remains where he is, as well as the rest of my children. You know what to do when I’m gone. Tell Chey I love her.”
“You know we can’t—”
Chippy jerked the phone away from Sander. “Your time is almost up, Prince Mattias. What is your decision? This is our third and final call.”
“Do not do it!” Sander shouted.
“Quiet!” one of the other men said.
“I mean, it, Mattias.” Sander refused to be silenced.
“Stop! Or I’ll blow your knee out.” Chippy pointed his gun at Sander’s knee.
Sander heard Mattias’s voice through the receiver, but could not decipher the words.
“That’s an order, Mattias,” Sander said, unafraid of the gun being aimed his way. His life was well worth that of Elias’s. Of all his children. He would do the same for any of them.
“I said stop!” The gun barked in Chippy’s hand.
Chapter 25
Bile surged up the back of Elias’s throat as the gunshot echoed through Sander’s office. Mattias had the phone on speaker, the volume turned up.
Chey covered her mouth with her hand while Leander growled in fury.
A moment later, the line went dead.
The last two hours of planning had possibly been for nothing. Elias paced the length of the office in agitation. Had the men actually shot Sander’s knee—or had they shot Sander and killed him?
He was not alone in his agony.
“What do we do now?” Chey asked with a shaky voice.
“They didn’t give us a meeting point. If Sander’s still alive, they’ll call back. They have to, or they won’t get what they want,” Mattias said. The words were tight with suppressed anger. He held himself together better than Leander, who unapologetically let loose a string of curses.
Elias didn’t stop to think about the shift happening within. Distantly, somewhere outside the current crisis, he recognized that he’d come to care for Sander insofar that he did not want the man to die. At the moment, he was consumed with the fear that they might be too late.
As if to prove Mattias’s prediction, the phone rang.
“Yes?” Mattias said. He had not taken the phone off speaker. The same man’s voice that had been on the phone before echoed through the office.
“We will meet at sunrise. Send Elias alone to Macor and have him go inside. Once he is secure, you will withdraw any and all personnel involved in Elias’s travel. There is to be no one in or around Macor, do you understand? If you do not follow our rules exactly, the next contact you receive from us will be proof of the king’s death. A video we will share not just with you but with everyone.”
The line went dead.
“Macor,” Leander snarled.
“Where Sander sent Paavo to live out the rest of his life. And where Paavo died,” Mattias said. “That isn’t a mistake. They chose that location deliberately. I’d say they’re still in Latvala and haven’t crossed any borders.”
“I agree,” Leander said.
“How will you protect Elias if he has to go to Macor alone?” Chey asked.
“We can’t send entire troops to the location. They’ll see. I think we go in under cover of darkness and wait in the woods near the ruins. Put snipers in the trees. Pick those bastards off one by one when they get there,” Jeremiah said.
“What is Macor?” Elias asked. He absorbed the news of this Paavo person but did not ask details. There would be time later for that.
“Macor is an old ruin at the edge of the hinterlands,” Mattias said. “I agree with Jeremiah. I think we leave as soon as possible and wait through the night. We’ll position snipers everywhere, have them blend in with the landscape. In the meantime, we’ll have our team here continue to work to find the traitor in hopes we can get information beforehand. If we’re really lucky, we’ll find out where they’re keeping Sander now and coordinate a strike before we ever have to deal with Macor.”
“I’ll go r
ound up the snipers,” Jeremiah said, and departed the room.
“Are you still willing to be bait?” Mattias asked.
Elias didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Just tell me what I need to do.”
A half hour after new plans had been drawn up, Elias departed Sander’s office en route for his own suite. Chey had informed him he had his own apartments upstairs, where clothes and shoes would be waiting. Elias couldn’t very well wear what he had on.
He hadn’t gone very far when Inari appeared at the end of the hall. Elias’s steps slowed. No one had told him she’d flown over from Kallaster.
“Hello, Elias,” she said when they were within speaking distance.
“Hello. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’ve been here for a few hours, actually. But everyone was busy. Also, I was told that I needed to warn my family of a possible strike, so I’ve been on the phone with my father.”
“Better to be safe than sorry, or so they say. Did you get everything taken care of?” Elias studied Inari’s features. Like Chey, she was holding herself together well. Calm, patient, yet alert. He wished he could say the things he knew she wanted him to say—confessions of love, that his memory had returned, that he cared and would see her when he got back.
He could not in good conscience tell her those lies. He did not feel love, although he was not as averse to these strangers as he had been upon waking in the hospital. That was forward progress, at least in his book.
“Yes. Except for telling you that I hope we can spend some time together when all this is over. Nothing extreme—maybe dinner or a walk in the gardens. Maybe even breakfast in the morning.”
Elias realized then that Inari did not know about their plans to leave this evening. That he was serving himself up as bait, and that he might or might not make it back tomorrow. Mattias had wanted to keep the details contained, and so he did not mention them.
“I’m not opposed to a walk in the gardens.” He needed to start slow. In his mind, dinner seemed a little too much like a date, and he wasn’t currently ready for that. “I’ll have to get back to you about anything else.”
Latvala Royals: Sacrifices Page 12