74. Chapter 74
Ezra
Angela Barclay stands before me in the flesh—the head of the Barclay trafficking network—the bane of my fucking existence.
Callum won’t shut up about his success. He’d been watching the Angelics for months through the mirrors, gathering intel, searching for Proctus’s weak points.
He was in Eureka during those final moments when Mara and Levi attacked us during our extraction.
Callum knew to bide his time, hide out in the reflections of Eureka’s storefronts, in the mirror of the Angelics’ vehicles.
It was there he took several captive after causing a collision; Callum interrogated them with the help of Angela, which was where they discovered Levi and Mara’s location and where to find the elusive Angelic safe haven.
“I killed Benji, too,” Callum boasts.
The urge to rip his throat out prevails amongst the myriad of emotions circling inside me.
If my hands weren’t bound, I’d claw and tear at every one of these bastards for what they’ve done.
Benji was the kid responsible for Proctus’s protective magical barrier.
He made it possible to live our lives in peace, and this is what he got in return.
“Your friend Tommy led us to Eureka, which led us here. How does it feel to know the Angelics perished by my hand?”
I do what I do best: I keep silent and bide my time.
“You made a stupid decision running from me that night,” he says.
Tommy and innocent Angelics are dead because of me. I should have surrendered when I had the chance.
Angela laughs despite the ensuing chaos around us. It’s depraved and cold. I shudder in the hands that clasp me down. Her gait is relaxed as she eases toward me. She glares down in disdain, eyes alight with victory.
“And you, Ezra Gray, are my consolation prize. A bonus for all our hard work. I still plan to siphon your powers, of course,” she says malignantly.
“Why?” I say, knowing my words are futile.
“For my personal use.”
Angela absorbs the scene unfurling ahead.
“Your capture set into fruition our plan to eradicate the Angelics. Senator Cornwallis will pay us handsomely for our achievements made here today,” Angela says. “And I will possess your power by the end of it.”
“Now, Thomas. It’s time.”
Thax materializes through the throng of men.
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve imagined him—a mirage, but not of paradise.
A harbinger of what’s to come. When he stalks up to punch me square in the nose, I know he’s not a conjuration of my imagination.
Blood spews from my nostrils. I taste iron on my tongue and splutter, expelling the phlegm from my mouth.
“Now, now Thomas. Don’t damage the merchandise,” Angela says buoyantly.
“Fuck you,” he spits, but it’s not at Barclay. His spit lands on my forehead and grazes my bruised cheek.
“Thax—” I gasp.
“Go to hell!” Thax screams. It’s loud, and deafening, even amongst the gunfire that echoes around Proctus. Hate fuels his irises. I’m not sure I ever had a brother to begin with, but the man above me is unrecognizable.
“Bring him to Miss Zagan. If you wish to prove your loyalty to us, Thomas, you will be the one to deliver Ezra to his demise.” There’s a playful mirth in Angela Barclay’s voice. The sound of it sickens me. “You can make it painful, but leave him alive.” Her smirk is conniving.
“Come here, Ezra,” Thax says, but it’s not his voice.
It’s Conin’s.
“It’ll be okay,” he says, this time in Atlas’s.
Which is impossible.
Thax doesn’t know who Atlas is. He never met him.
Unless . . .
Unless the two boys I love most in this world are dead.