Page 90 of Revere
Something loud crashes on the other side of the room, and my shoulders jump.
One second, Anson’s weight is holding me down; the next, something warm drenches my back. Liquid heat soaks my clothes and covers my skin. And then Anson rolls to the side, falling to the floor while he grabs at his split-open throat.
The life in his eyes goes out like a switch flipped. He’s there, and then he’s gone, and I’m left with dead eyes looking back at me.
“I didn’t know he came down here,” someone says, panic flooding his voice.
But it’s the one that follows that has my heart racing.
“I told you to leave her out of this.”
I whip my head to the side and find Jacob towering over the bed. His eyes meet mine as he leans over and pulls my jeans up my hips, smearing the blood that’s all over me. Which is when I see the bloody blade on the mattress beside me.
“You”—I shake my head as Jacob undoes the chains at my wrists next—“you killed him.”
His eyes are stone-cold as he quickly releases me and pulls me off the bed.
“I’m sorry. He was told to stay away. This should have never happened.” Jacob’s jaw tenses as he turns to a blond man standing by the door. “I told you not to go near her. Plans changed.”
My blood freezes when I realize the other man cowers at Jacob’s words. As I take in the man before me as if it’s the first time.
If Jacob were just a professor, he wouldn’t understand what’s happening here. He wouldn’t know these men at all. Instead, he commands the room.
He slit a man’s throat.
“What would they do to get you back?”Anson’s question plays differently now.
He wasn’t talking about my brother and my father. He was talking about my brother and Jacob.
“Who are you?” I pull away, and to my surprise, Jacob lets me. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? Sigma Sin?”
I’m surprised I don’t vomit at those words. At that thought.
Jacob nods once.
Confirmation that strikes me like a wrecking ball to the chest. I play back every word Anson said. Everything that’s happened since I met Jacob. The strings he’s pulled, the games he’s been playing.
Him sitting beside me on the plane.
My apartment conveniently being across the hall from his.
My father’s resistance to my coming here.
Jacob getting close to me.
I’ve been at the center of this game all along. A ploy. Bait. A chess piece. Whatever I thought we were is a lie.
Then I glance at the man cowering on the other side of the room, scared to death of him, and everything clicks.
“You’re the Interrogator.” My heart is pounding so hard my ribs barely contain it. “It was you all along.”
I can’t breathe.
I’m going to vomit.
Taking another step back, I knock the bucket beside the bed. All while Jacob watches me scramble. He watches mefear him.
“Patience—”
