Page 53 of A Mistake of Identity
The heavy oak door of his study promised refuge. Inside, nothing had changed—the same leather chairs, the same wood panels, the same crystal decanters catching afternoon light. The normality felt obscene.
Annabelle materialized with a silver tray of still-warm croissants and pain au chocolat. Her hands trembled slightly as she set it down, though her voice remained steady. “You should eat something.” She disappeared before he could respond.
Lucas’ measured steps marked time across the carpet while Alain dismantled his Glock with mechanical precision, the pieces arranged in perfect lines on the side table. Gabriel’s fingers found the crystal decanter without conscious thought. T
Every twenty minutes, Annabelle returned.
Brownies. Macarons. Tiny quiches.
Each offering received with tense silence. The garden beyond his window blurred green, the ice in his glass melting away untouched.
None of them had answers. None of them had plans.
The tepid whiskey burned going down.
Ellis
Ellis woke... maybe... did he wake? Was he still sleeping? Everything felt... wrong wasn’t the word. Different? No...
He tried to sit up but something pushed him back down to the not-hard but not-soft surface.
His hands... he had hands... where? They wouldn’t... wouldn’t... move?
Confined. Was that metal around his wrists?
The world swam in and out. Close then far. Far then gone. Nothing felt... real wasn’t right. Nothing felt... anything.
There was someone on top of him. It wasn’t Gabriel. Gabriel... Gabriel should be... where was Gabriel?
Ellis felt panic wash through him. Someone took him from Gabriel. He felt himself thrash and scream. Cry. Muffled voices. Above him looked gray until a hazy figure blocked the gray.
There was a prick in his arm. A burning moved through him.
Sound turned to cotton. Feeling turned to... to... nothing had names anymore. His body was everywhere and nowhere. Floating. Sinking. Both?
Ellis wasn’t anywhere. Or was he? Wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere? The pressure on top of him barely registered. Ellis was breathing. Breathing was nice. Cool air through hislungs was nice. Was that a light? Ellis didn’t like lights. He should close his eyes again...
Gabriel
The screen’s glow cast harsh shadows across Gabriel’s study as security footage played for what must have been the thousandth time. Three seventeen in the morning, and he hadn’t moved from his position behind the desk in hours. Days had begun to blur, marked only by the timestamps on endless hours of footage.
Eight days. Ten hours. Twenty-two minutes.
Ellis had been gone for eight days, ten hours, and twenty-two minutes.
The coffee at his elbow had gone cold, joining three other untouched cups scattered across the normally immaculate desk. Papers and tablets created a maze of dead ends and false leads. His jacket hung forgotten on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, tie long discarded.
On the screen, the Mercedes AMG sedan pulled up to the manor. Ellis would have been smiling, still damp from the pool. The timestamp showed 4:55:13 PM. At 4:55:34, three black SUVs would appear. At 4:55:56, professionally equipped men in tactical gear would swarm the car and the house. At 4:58:21...
Gabriel’s jaw clenched until his teeth ached. A logo on one of the bags, stowed in one of the SUVs, stood stark on the screen. These men were La Sauvegarde’s security force. Sentinelle. Antoine was still stonewalling every inquiry, hiding behind his father’s protection like the coward he was.
The quiet click of his study door opening made him look up. For the first time since Gabriel had known him, Nika looked... disheveled. His usually impeccable suit was wrinkled, tie loosened, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. Even his perfectly styled hair showed signs of running his hands through it too many times.
“You have something?” Gabriel’s voice was rough from disuse.
Nika’s expression tightened. “Henri’s gone completely dark, no credit cards, no phone, no facial recognition hits. According to HR, he’s suddenly taken a month’s leave.” Nika’s frown deepened. “A CFO doesn’t just take a month off, especially not Henri. His PA says he was working remotely the day Ellis and Jean were taken, but the last confirmed sighting we have is him leaving La Sauvegarde the previous Friday evening with Marc Saint-Clair. Nothing since.” He paused, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Antoine’s locked down Sentinelle’s internal communications—even my best hackers can’t get in. But... I found something else. Something we missed.”
“Explain.” The word came out as more growl than speech.
