Page 14 of The Reckoning
Neither of us answers, but we both know what happens. Richard doesn’t tolerate deception, especially not from family. If he discovers his golden son has been replaced by the twin he’d had committed… all hell will break loose.
“We’re all fucked.” Arson’s expression is grim.
“Then you have to leave, right? We can’t take the risk.”
“There isn’t another option.” For the first time in forever, I see my brother conflicted, and I understand that feeling all too well. “Why couldn’t he have called ten minutes later?”
“Look, it’s fine. We’ll get Lilian out. You go deal with him. It’ll look way too suspicious if you don’t show up.”
Arson nods once, slowly, and we agree. Just two brothers staring down the same monster.
“Don’t fuck this up,” he says, already moving toward the apartment’s exit. “If anything happens to her, there won’t be anyone to stop me from killing you.”
“Likewise, Brother.”
What I don’t tell him is that if anything happens to Lilian, if she dies because of this, I will never forgive myself. He pauses at the door, one hand braced on the frame, looking back at me with an expression I can’t quite read—part fear, part something else I’m not ready to name.
“I mean it… if anything happens to her?—”
I cut him off, sharper than I intended. “Nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it.” My voice lowers, steadier now. “I’ll update you the second we have her and figure out what the plan is.”
“Okay.” The word is quiet, almost reluctant.
His gaze lingers, searching my face like he’s trying to make sure I understand something he can’t bring himself to say. His mouth opens, then closes again. A thousand unspoken words hang between us, heavy enough to feel in my chest. Then he’s gone, disappearing into the hallway, leaving Drew and me alone with the unconscious guards and the steel door that separates us from Lilian. In the sudden silence, I can hear all my worries and fears as if they have their own heartbeat.
“This is fucked,” Drew mutters, checking the electronic lock. “If Richard’s suspicious…”
We’re balancing on a knife’s edge. One slipup and we could bleed out.
There’s no denying that Richard suspects something is amiss with his son’s behavior, but he’s unaware of Arson’s existence. If Arson can maintain the deception, continue playing the role of Aries Hayes, we still have a chance.
But if Richard sees through the performance…
I shake the thought away. None of that changes the immediate reality. Lilian is behind that door, trapped because of our family’s toxic legacy. Whatever Richard’s endgame might be, it doesn’t matter. I can’t do anything until I get her to safety. Ipress my ear to the steel, listening to the conversation within. I can barely make out the muffled voices.
“Let’s finish this,” I say, stepping back as Drew works on the lock.
“After we get her out,” Drew continues, “where do you want to take her? My place is secure, but I don’t want all of this around Bel. I have another warehouse I can take you to.”
I study him with growing suspicion. “What’s your angle in all this? Why help either of us?”
Something that looks close to guilt flashes in his eyes before he blinks it away. “That’s not important right now.”
“It is to me.”
“Look,” Drew says, exasperation breaking through his usual composure, “you can hate me later. Both of you. Right now, we need to move before those men in there decide Lilian’s outlived her usefulness.”
He’s right, but the betrayal of his negligence still sits in my gut like poison. Drew Marshall—my teammate, my confidant, one of three people I actually trusted. All this time, he watched me vanish and said nothing, did nothing. When this is over, when Lilian is safe, I’ll let him know exactly how I feel about his betrayal. For now, I need him, so I bite my tongue and carry on. Drew works on the electronic lock with practiced efficiency, another surprising skill from my supposedly straightforward friend. The red light flickers to green, and the steel door slides open with a soft hiss.
The scene that greets us stops me cold in my tracks.
Lilian sits zip-tied to a chair in the center of the room. She’s alert and unharmed, looking more angry than afraid. Two men in expensive suits stand nearby—the older one adjusting his cuff links with practiced precision, the younger one positioning himself with the casual readiness of someone accustomed toviolence. He has his gun out and pressed to the side of Lilian’s head. Neither makes a move for more weapons when we enter.
If anything, they look relieved to see us.
“Mr. Hayes,” the older man says pleasantly, as if we’ve just arrived for a scheduled appointment. His gaze settles on me with obvious satisfaction. “I was hoping to speak with you specifically.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds before I put a bullet in your chest.” I keep the gun trained on him.
