Page 12 of Dominion

“We might need Ophelia.” Atlas looked at Indigo.

“No.” The man in question shook his head. “Absolutely not. Do you want Storm to kill us both? Because he will if we even try to put her anywhere near that place.”

“Why would Storm do that?” I asked. “If Ophelia knows how they operate, isn’t it better?—”

“No, Skylar,” Atlas interrupted me. “Storm won’t allow this. Not with everything that’s been going on and all the threats she has been getting lately. I was surprised he even let her come to Emercroft Lake with all of us.”

“You really think he would’ve let her stay in Santa Monica?” Indigo laughed. “Come on. I’m surprised he hasn’t chained her to himself. The man is half insane when it comes to her.”

“Okay, okay.” I stood up and walked toward Cillian. “As much as I would love to hear more about Ophelia and Storm and whatever it is that they’re dealing with, we don’t have time. Judah Blackwood is a sadist, and after what I did…” I trailed off. “He is going to kill them if we don’t get them out of there.” I turned toward Cillian. “Is there anybody else who can help? If we can’t get Ophelia, is there somebody else?”

“There is,” Atlas said. As I turned toward him, I could see that he’d placed the laptop back on the table. “Kill went through the same training as Ophelia.”

Cillian stiffened, his entire body going rigid in a matter of seconds. The tick in his jaw was prominent, his face grim. It was like watching a car crash happening in slow motion. Thedemons from this morning pushed forward and I could see them wreaking havoc on him, slowly, painfully, but he stood still.

“Kill?” I murmured. “Please.”

“I was trained in the same way, but we’re going to need help. A lot of help.”

“The rest of the crew is going to be here by tomorrow and then we can start,” Indigo said.

Kill moved toward the window and pressed his hand against the flat surface. “That’s good, but not enough.”

“You think that the entire crew of Sons of Hades won’t be enough to take down guards in the Red Manor?” Indigo asked, laughing.

“They would be if it was the normal amount of guards,” Cillian answered. I stood there, looking like a ping-pong ball, with my head swerving from one side of the room to the other, trying to look at all of them. “But it’s not the normal amount of guards. My father became paranoid after that stunt in Vegas, not to mention that Nikolai’s death brought half of the Russian part of the Syndicate over to America. Then there’s Judah Blackwood.” He looked at me. “He isn’t someone who doesn’t have his own guards.”

“So what do we do then?” Atlas asked. “We could call in the rest of the chapters but it will take them days to mobilize.”

“We don’t have days,” I protested.

“I know.” Cillian nodded and pressed his hand on my shoulder. “There is somebody that owes me a favor and I’m about to cash it in.”

“Who?” Atlas asked skeptically.

“Leonardo Conti,” Cillian answered, and it was as if all the air evaporated from the room.

“No.” Indigo shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously, dude?” Atlas grimaced.

I knew that name. Everybody knew that name.

How could we not when there were monsters in this country that walked freely with a smile on their faces. The Conti family… they were worse than mine.

“Do it,” I breathed out, looking at the floor. “Just do it.”

“Skylar!” Atlas shouted. “You have no idea what these people are capable of. I don’t want us to mix with their kind.”

“We won’t be mixing.” Cillian groaned. “Leonardo owes me a favor. Three years ago, a rival family kidnapped his son who was only three at the time. I was in the right place at the right time and I saved him. Trust me. He will help us in one way or another.”

“We don’t really have the best connection with the Italian mafia,” Indigo butted in. “It’s a known fact that we pretty much hate each other.”

“Yeah, but you all hate the Outfit and the Syndicate. Trust me on this, please. We don’t have another choice,” Cillian added.

My eyes pleaded with Atlas and Indigo, knowing that this was the only way to save Dylan and Ash. I would’ve done anything to get them out of that place, even if it meant selling my soul to the devil.

Or at least what was left of it.

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