by Tabatha Kiss
I return the vials to the medkit and pop the cap back onto the syringe. Dante cleans the knife with a cloth before kneeling behind Myra’s chair and unlocking her cuffs. I catch her as she slinks forward, gently resting her head down on the table and closing her eyes.
Dante and I glance at each other. We don’t say anything. Not aloud, anyway.
On the inside, we say everything as we pick Myra up and carry her upstairs. We say how thankful we are to still have each other as we pass through the dark, quiet house toward the backyard. We say how much Elijah would not have been okay with how we used his serums, but he’d disapprove with a twinkle in his eye.
We lie Myra down next to the other bodies of her squad and Dante covers her with a sheet.
I take a few steps back to the house but I pause when I realize Dante isn’t following me.
“You good?” I ask him.
He nods, his eyes on the ground. “Yeah,” he answers. “Just going to stay here for a while.”
The strong, silent type. That’s Dante.
“Goodnight, big brother,” I say.
“Goodnight, little sister,” he replies.
I walk back into the house. It’s getting close to midnight now. The others have long since claimed their beds. Boxcar sits quietly on the couch with his laptop. We say nothing to each other as I pass him but I offer him a nod.
I reach the top floor, quickly navigating through the dark to the room Archer and I share. I open the door and step inside. Before I can adjust to the darkness, the bedside lamp flicks on and Archer sits up in the bed.
“Lilah?” he whispers, wide-awake.
I nod as walk over to my backpack on the bench by the window. I sift through it in silence, quickly finding the small, hollow, glass pendant hidden in a pair of socks.
I turn it in my hand and lock of brown hair tumbles from one side to the other. Elijah’s hair.
I swallow hard and reach back into the bag to grab a pair of short and a tank top to sleep in.
Archer gets out of bed and walks up behind me as I unbutton my jeans. Thankfully, Archer’s always had a talent for reading the room. He keeps his mouth shut as I undress and waits for me to turn toward him before reaching out and putting his hands on my shoulders.
I cradle the pendant softly between my palms. “It’s done,” I say, my throat dry.
Archer takes a breath and exhales slowly as he studies my face. “What do you need?” he asks.
I look down, losing myself a little in his bare, enticing chest, but a cruel numbness takes over my gut. Oh, there are plenty of things I’d like to do; things that Archer will no doubt oblige without argument but I let the urges fall in favor of his arms.
“Hold me,” I finally say.
Archer doesn’t blink. He reaches for my hands and I surrender them without a second thought. He guides me to the bed and lays me down with him. I ease as close to him as possible and he flicks the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness before wrapping his thick arms around me again.
The sob grows fast, taking over my chest before I realize it’s happening. My throat locks and warm tears spill down my cheeks. I hold the pendant against my heart, willing Elijah’s to beat with mine again, no matter how impossible it may be.
Archer pulls the blanket around us, his body heat bleeding into my skin as he embraces me closer. He kisses my forehead and strokes my arm, saying nothing as I cry into the breathless void one last time.
You can rest now, Elijah.
We’ll meet again someday.
Soon, my tear ducts run dry and I stop shaking. I lay my head down, slowly catching my breath with each lingering inhale. Archer’s lips never leave my forehead. His arms never lose their strong hold on me.
My hunter never lets me go.
“Close your eyes,” he tells me. “I’ll be here when you open them again.”
I look up, somehow finding his blue eyes in the dark. He runs his thumb along my cheeks to banish the tears stuck to them. I kiss him once, a sweet kiss goodnight, before resting my head back down on his chest.
I settle in for one night of peace. One night of quiet to mourn all I’ve lost.
But tomorrow, I will burn these motherfuckers to the ground.
Forty-Nine
Dante
I know a thing or two about grief.
I’ve been in the middle of it. I’ve been on the outside looking in. Life can be as cruel as it is wonderful and we’re all just waiting around for the tide to suddenly turn on us and show us the other side.
But I can’t take much more of this.
My parents. Lucy’s father. My little brother.
No amount of vengeance will be enough to save me if I have to bury Lucy Vaughn, too.
I walk back into the house, quietly shifting from room-to-room. A light shines from the kitchen down the hall as the refrigerator door opens and closes again. I follow the sound to find Fox standing by the counter with a whiskey bottle and two glasses.
“Right on time,” he says, pouring a healthy amount into both.
I reach for the nearest glass. “Can’t sleep?” I ask.
“Never.” He raises his own. “Cheers.”
We take a drink and Fox refills them to where they were before. A bit of whiskey spills over the side of my glass and glides along my finger. I watch as it slowly makes its way to the counter, mesmerized by the simplicity of it.
“They’re alive.”
I look up at Fox. He’s staring at his glass the same way I was.
“That’s what I keep telling myself,” he says. “Gio needs them alive to...”
His voice falls.
I pick up my glass. “There are only so many rocks a man like Gio can hide under.” I raise it and nod. “We’ll find them.”
Fox follows my lead and chugs his glass to the bottom.
“Oh, good.” Boxcar wanders in from the other room. “Are we drinking now? Or is this a tattoo-only binge?”
Fox turns to the cupboard for a third glass. “Come on in. There’s plenty for everyone...”
Boxcar walks up, looking tired and hopeless. I don’t blame him. None of us know where our girls are but at least we know what to expect from Gio. But the Boss? Marilyn Black?
Who knows what she could be putting Caleb through right now.
Fox fills his glass and hands it over.
“Thanks,” Boxcar says, barely making eye contact with him.
“I can’t believe Casey is an agent,” Fox says.
“You didn’t know?” Boxcar asks. “Because I was gonna ask…”
“No. I never would have kept that from Caleb.” Fox exhales. “What was he like?”
Boxcar chugs his glass and thinks. “Tall,” he answers.
Fox chuckles.
I shake my head. “I couldn’t imagine taking this job if I had kids,” I say. “I couldn’t even keep it from my brother and sister.”
“Yeah…” Boxcar sighs. “Casey didn’t seem like the remorseful type but I hope I’m wrong about that.”
“Guess we’ll know tomorrow,” Fox says.
Feet shuffle in from the hallway and Luka appears in the entryway.
“I knew I smelled booze,” he says.
Fox smiles and grabs a fourth glass. “How’s Sofia?”
“Restless,” he answers, his head down. “She blames herself for this.”
“I don’t think any one of us blames her. Not even a little bit.”
“As I’ve told her, but…” Luka sighs as Fox fills his glass. “Her heart is too big. I’ve never known a woman who feels emotion as purely as she does.”
Boxcar tilts his head. “So, she was a Zappia?”
Luka nods. “Yes.”
“Gio’s wife?” I ask.
He nods again. “Yes.”
“But she seems so…” Boxcar pauses. “Normal.”
Luka smiles. “They tried to subjugate her but… it never took. She asked for my help and I got her out. We’ve been fighting the Zappia way together ever since.”
/>
“And Snake Eyes,” I point out.
He stares into his glass. “Snake Eyes murdered my father and grandfather,” he says. “My family does not forgive those who spill Lutrova blood.”
I raise my glass. “My family has a similar policy.”
He raises his own and we both drink.
Archer saunters in from the hall and sighs. “Looks like I’m not the only one who needed a nightcap…” he says. “Hello, gentlemen.”
Fox silently grabs a fifth glass.
“Is Lilah sleeping?” I ask.
Archer takes a spot next to Boxcar. “Yes, she is.”
I wince. “Uh-oh.”
“That’s a bad thing?” Boxcar asks.
“When Lilah sleeps, that means she’s calm,” I say.
His head tilts. “And...?”
“When Lilah’s calm, that means she’s got a plan.”
Fox offers him a glass but Archer grabs the whole bottle instead.
“And I’ve got my work cut out for me,” he says.
I chuckle as he chugs a large amount at once. “Welcome to the last thirty years of my life, Arch.”
He sets the bottle down. “Then you, sir, deserve bloody sainthood.”
“Me and Eli, we...” I pause, taken by memory. “We always knew that when we woke up and her bed was already made, we were in for a rough day.”
I look down and they go quiet.
It’s not over until I get Lucy back but I can rest a little easier now knowing that my brother can, too.
Fox raises his glass. “For Elijah.”
The rest of them do the same, their soft eyes on me.
“For Elijah,” they all repeat.
I nod, swallowing hard. “For Elijah,” I say.
We empty our glasses and silently set them down.
Fifty
Boxcar
“God, I hate Paris,” Lilah says as we climb the cramped stairwell.
I chortle. “You know, Lilah, I think you and I finally agree on something.”
“Just look at this place!” She runs her hand along the wall and pulls it away, now covered in speckled, white dust. “I mean, granted, I’ve spent the majority of my time here in dank, dirty Snake Eyes safe houses like this one, but...” She quickly wipes her hands on her jeans. “Come on, Paris. Have some dignity.”
We reach the top of the stairs and I glance at my phone, monitoring my tracking app for any changes. “Should be this door over here...”
“Hey. You’re from Memphis, right?” Lilah asks me.
“Uh...” I look back at her, her beady, inquisitive eyes poking out from behind her red bangs. “Yeah. Why?”
“Is it fun?”
“It can be?” I answer. “If you like booze and Elvis, I guess.”
“Do you think Archer likes booze and Elvis?”
“I...” I stop in the middle of the hall. “Why?”
“I wanna plan a trip,” she says, her face pinching. “Something fun but not too fancy. Like a romantic getaway. But not too lame, you know? Something that says I appreciate you but also says I’d be down for some butt stuff.”
I blink. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”
She releases a painful scoff. “I don’t know. You’re the only person I know who even remotely comes close to a friend of Archer’s. Cut me some slack here.”
My mouth sags in bewilderment. “You shot me in the back with a shotgun.”
“You’re still mad about that?”
I cock my head. “Uh...”
She stands taller. “Hey, if I’m going through this much trouble to help get your wife back, isn’t humoring me the very least you can do?” she asks.
Shit. She’s got a point.
“Okay...” I lower my phone to my side. “Well, I’ve seen him drink, so... booze should be okay.”
She nods. “All right.”
I squint. “But I don’t... really know him well enough to know where he stands on Elvis.”
“Damn,” she murmurs.
“But... I can ask him?”
She smiles. “Will you?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“But don’t make it too obvious!” she says, pointing a finger. “I don’t want him to know I asked you.”
“I will be discreet.” I turn toward the door, but pause. “And... I don’t know. Butt stuff seems like more of a New Orleans kind of thing.”
She considers it. “Hm.”
“Or Portland.”
“Good point.”
I gesture to the door. “Anyway, this should be it.” I scan the walls for an exploit. “Might take a look and see if I can find a structural—”
Lilah pats my arm. “Eh, scooch,” she says, moving me out of the way.
She rears back and kicks the door open. It slams against the opposite wall, splintering the wood around the handle, and she waltzes inside.
“Or, you can just… do that,” I say.
I follow her inside and I stop beside her. It’s a tiny studio apartment; barely even large enough to be called that with a straight face. A pull-out couch. A dirty kitchenette. A bathroom so filthy I can see the mildew from here.
And Casey Fawn. He sits at a small table by the kitchenette, casually spooning soup into his mouth. He looks up at us and shakes his head in amusement.
“Sure,” he says, lowering his spoon into the bowl. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home.”
I quickly close the broken door, firing a look at Lilah. “How have you survived this long?” I whisper at her.
“Questionable morals and a lot of lip gloss,” she says. She walks over to the window and pushes the curtains out of the way, illuminating the dark space. “Hey, Casey. We need to chat.”
“I know,” he mutters. “That’s why I left the door unlocked.”
She shrugs and leans an elbow against the counter.
He rises from his chair and deposits his empty bowl in the sink. “Took you long enough,” he says, running the tap to clean it out. “I expected you a lot sooner.”
I look at the table to see Caleb’s revolver sitting there. The blank bullet I planted in the cylinder has been broken open and the GPS chip sits out on the table.
Lilah picks it up. “Is this how you low-jacked him?” she asks me. “Nice.”
“Eh... I low-jacked me, to be honest,” I say. “Figured if we got separated at some point, you guys could easily find me again.”
She tosses it back onto the table. “That’s cute.”
I shrug. “I thought it was a neat idea.”
“No, that you think we’d come find you,” she says, snickering.
I exhale. Walked right into that one.
Casey sits back down. “So, what would you like to talk about?” he asks.
I take the second chair across from him and I freeze like a deer in headlights. Caleb’s father. She doesn’t talk about him much but I can tell that she thinks about him often. Every time she opened her bedside drawer and saw that revolver, I knew he was on her mind. Not in a sad way, though. With love and respect.
I sit up taller, showing a little respect of my own. “I’m not sure how much you know already but… Caleb’s been taken by the Boss.”
He doesn’t react. Either he knows that… or he doesn’t care.
“I want you to help us get her back,” I say. “Her and Dani and Lucy—”
“I can’t do that,” he says.
“Please.”
“It’s not possible, kid.”
“She’s pregnant,” I say. “She’s pregnant with my baby and I am begging you, man-to-man, to help me get her back.”
Casey inhales slowly. “Look, I—”
“She’s your daughter,” I say over him, feeling desperate. “Now, I know you still care about her. You wouldn’t have let me go out there if you didn’t. I know you don’t want this life for her… just like I don’t want this life for my baby.”
“I understand what you’re getting at,” he says, “but the man you�
�re trying to appeal to right now is dead. I can’t help you. Sorry.”
I sit back in the chair, staring into his eyes as I hold my anger back. And to think I thought he and Caleb had the same eyes.
“Okay…” I say. “Then, how about this?” I lean forward. “You’re going to help us. You’re going to do everything in your power to find out where they took Caleb. You’re going to tell us right now where your squad was supposed to deliver Lilah and then you’re going to escort us there.”
“Oh, am I?” he asks.
“Yes, you are.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, then I’ll give the signal to my buddy, Archer. He’s former MI-6 but he’s still got some friends over at Interpol who are just itching to bring as many Snake Eyes agents into custody as possible. Sure, you might have a bit of a head start if you ran right now but I don’t like your chances against Lilah here after what I saw her do to Myra and the rest of your squad with her bare hands.”
His eyes slowly glance over my shoulder at her.
“But on the off-chance you do take her and me out,” I continue, “there’s always the sniper outside with a rifle trained to your forehead right now. Bottom line: Either you stop dicking around and agree to help me get my wife and our friends back or you don’t walk out of here alive, Casey.”
He squints at me.
I clear my throat. “Sir.”
Casey looks back and forth between Lilah and me. “So, Myra’s gone, huh?”
Lilah nods. “Oh, yeah. She’s super dead.”
He sits still, nodding slowly as he thinks it over. After a moment, he rises from his chair and wanders over to the window.
Lilah nudges my arm. “Goddamn, Sparky,” she says. “You can be alpha as fuck when you really wanna be.”
“Yes, I can,” I say, my eyes locked on Casey.
He turns toward us again. “What do you mean you want me to escort you there?” he asks.
“Myra said your squad was sent to get Lilah for Gio,” I say. “All we want is for you to finish the job.”
He looks at Lilah. “You want me to deliver you to Giovani Zappia?”
She shrugs. “Sure, why not?”
“Because it’s stupid. You go in there, you’re never coming out again.”