Chapter Fourteen #2
By the time we touch down at a tiny airstrip carved out of the wilderness, the sun is already sinking toward the horizon.
It’s barely three in the afternoon, but this far north in December, that’s all the daylight you get.
A black van is waiting on the tarmac, AURORA LODGE printed on the side in elegant gold script.
“You booked us a resort?” I stare at Liam as we grab our bags. “We’re here to retrieve stolen property and you booked us a
luxury resort?”
“We need a base of operations. Somewhere with heat and food and snowmobiles we can rent.” He shrugs, heading for the van.
“Besides, if this is the last time we work together, I wanted to do it right.”
There’s that phrase again. The last time. He keeps saying it like he’s trying to convince himself.
The driver is a young woman with a bright smile and too many questions. Where are we from? What brings us to the Territories
in December? Are we here for the northern lights? The aurora has been spectacular this week, she tells us. Best viewing in
years.
I give vague answers while Liam stares out the window, one knee bouncing. He’s nervous, I realize. More nervous than he’s
letting on. That sets off alarm bells I try to ignore.
The drive takes more than an hour, winding through frozen forest on a road that’s more suggestion than infrastructure. By
the time the lodge comes into view, I’ve almost convinced myself we’re lost.
Then the trees part, and I forget how to breathe.
The Aurora Lodge rises from the snow in sharp angles of wood and glass, perched on the edge of a frozen lake that stretches
to the horizon. The architecture is modern, angular, designed to frame the wilderness rather than compete with it. Even in
the fading light, I can see the faint green shimmer of the northern lights beginning to form above the tree line.
It’s stunning. It’s also completely wrong.
“How much did this place cost?” I ask as we pull up to the entrance.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Liam.”
“I said don’t worry about it.” He’s already climbing out of the van, already walking toward the glass doors, already shutting down the conversation the way he always does when he doesn’t want to answer questions.
I follow him inside, my instincts prickling.
Fireplaces crackle at both ends of the lobby. Exposed beams, warm wood paneling, thick rugs underfoot. Wealth pretending to
be cozy. A woman behind the reception desk greets us with a smile that’s just a little too polished.
“Welcome to Aurora Lodge. Checking in?”
“Two rooms.” Liam slides his ID across the counter. “Under Calloway.”
“Of course.” She types something into her computer, still smiling. “And will you be joining us for dinner in the restaurant
this evening? Our chef has prepared a wonderful tasting menu featuring local cuisine.”
“Sounds great.”
“Excellent.” More typing. More smiling. “And what brings you to the Territories? Business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure,” Liam says smoothly. “We’re hoping to catch the lights.”
“You’ve picked the perfect week. The aurora has been putting on quite a show.” She hands him two key cards. “You’re in rooms
fourteen and sixteen. Down the hall to your left. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call the front desk.”
I take my key and head for my room without looking back at Liam. I need space. I need to think. I need to figure out why every
nerve in my body is screaming that something is very, very wrong.
The room is gorgeous. King bed with a white duvet, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the frozen lake, a bathroom with a
soaking tub and heated floors. Somewhere Knox might take me for a romantic weekend, if Knox knew anything about who I really
was.
I unpack my bag and count the security cameras I noticed on the walk from the lobby. Four in the main area. Two in the hallway.
At least one more covering the entrance.
That’s a lot of surveillance for a remote luxury resort.
I shower and change and try to quiet the voice in my head that keeps whispering trap, trap, this is a trap. Liam wouldn’t walk into something dangerous, I tell myself. He’s too smart. Too careful. Whatever’s making me nervous, there’s
probably a reasonable explanation.
I almost believe it.
Dinner is in the lodge restaurant, where tall windows frame the lake and the aurora is beginning to dance overhead. Liam is
already at a table when I arrive, a glass of whiskey in front of him that he hasn’t touched.
“You look nice,” he says as I sit down.
“I look exhausted.”
“That too.” His eyes don’t quite meet mine. He’s scanning the room, cataloging exits and other diners and the waitstaff moving
between tables. “The aurora’s really something tonight.”
“Liam.” I keep my voice low. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve checked your phone six times since I sat down. You keep looking at the door like you’re expecting someone. Talk to
me.”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Then, “Weather forecast. Storm’s coming in faster than they predicted. We need to leave at dawn
if we’re going to make it to the site and back before it hits.”
“That’s not what’s bothering you.”
“It should be.” He meets my eyes, and there’s something there I can’t read. “The storm’s going to be bad, Hailey. Whiteout
conditions, temperatures dropping to forty below. If we don’t get the diamond tomorrow, we might not get another chance for
weeks. And if whoever’s hunting us figures out where we are before then . . .”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
I look out at the aurora, green and purple ribbons of light rippling across the sky like something alive. It’s the most beautiful
thing I’ve ever seen, and I can barely appreciate it because my stomach won’t stop churning.
“Snowmobiles are arranged,” Liam continues. “I’ve got GPS coordinates loaded and emergency supplies packed. We leave at first light, we push hard, we get in and out before the weather turns.”
“And then?”
“And then we hand off the diamond and this whole mess goes away. We go back to our lives. Pretend it never happened.”
Go back to our lives. He makes it sound so simple. Like I can just walk back into my apartment, show up at Sloane’s studio,
pick up where I left off with Knox. Like none of this will follow me home.
“Fine,” I say. “Dawn. We get the diamond and we get out.”
Liam nods, but his eyes are already back on the door.
I eat without tasting the food. Local fish, some kind of arctic char prepared three different ways. It’s probably delicious.
I wouldn’t know. My stomach is a knot of anxiety that leaves no room for hunger.
After dinner, I go back to my room and try to sleep.
It doesn’t work.
I lie in the dark, listening to the wind howl outside, watching the aurora paint shifting colors across my ceiling. Every
time I close my eyes, I see Knox’s face. The way he looked at me when he said let me help. The way his hands felt on my skin, so careful, so controlled.
I should call him. It’s not too late to tell him the truth, to give him some version of what’s happening. At least then he’d
know. At least then if something goes wrong—
But I don’t call. I just lie there, trapped between the life I want and the past I can’t escape, waiting for morning to come.
Around 2 a.m., I hear footsteps in the hallway.
At first I think it’s nothing. Other guests heading to their rooms, maybe, or staff making late-night rounds. But the footsteps
don’t pass. They stop. Regroup. There are more of them now, moving together, too coordinated to be accidental.
I’m out of bed before I’ve fully processed what I’m hearing.
Bare feet on cold floor. I cross to the door and press my ear against it, pulse loud in my ears. Voices now, low and clipped. The creak of gear shifting, bodies adjusting positions.
I know that sound. I’ve heard it before, in a hotel in Monaco when everything went wrong. The sound of a team getting ready
to move.
I crack the door open, just a sliver, just enough to see.
Men in tactical gear. Black from head to toe, faces covered, moving down the hallway in formation. Six of them, maybe more.
They’re heading for my room.
For a moment I’m frozen. Ice in my veins, static in my brain, every survival instinct I have screaming at me to run, hide,
fight, do something—
I try to close the door.
A hand catches it before I can. Gloved fingers, impossibly strong, wrenching it open as I stumble backward. I open my mouth
to scream and another hand clamps over it, leather and sweat and something chemical I can recognize even as my mind rejects
what’s happening.
Then I feel it. A sting in my neck. Small and quick, like a bee, like nothing at all.
The world tilts sideways.
My legs stop working. I’m falling, or maybe I’m being lowered—I can’t tell anymore, can’t feel the difference between up and
down, can’t do anything except watch as the room blurs and stretches around me.
Somewhere down the hall, a door crashes open. Shouting. The sound of a struggle, bodies hitting walls. I turn my head—it takes
forever, my neck a column of wet sand—and see them dragging Liam out of his room.
He’s fighting. Of course he’s fighting. Liam never goes down easy. But there are two of them on him, three, and even he can’t
beat those odds.
His eyes find mine across the hallway.
Shock. Confusion.
He didn’t know, I think, the realization floating through my dissolving mind. He didn’t know this was coming. This wasn’t his play.
Which means we were both set up.
Which means we’re both fucked.
The drug pulls me under before I can finish the thought. The last thing I see is Liam’s face, blood on his lip, still fighting
as they drag him away.
Then nothing.