Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
TRISTAN
I’ve been staring at the pattern for hours, watching the queen’s people rotate through proxy servers, burning through phone numbers, and thinking they’re invisible. They’re not. There is always a trail. I trace the final handshake and watch the location data resolve, and my stomach goes cold.
When Julian said she’d disappeared and they couldn’t find her, I already had the sense she was heading this way. It’s a stupid plan. There is nothing better than being on one’s home turf.
The thing is she’s not planning to come. She’s already here and not far away. I am irritated with myself that I wasn’t able to crack it sooner. I reach for my phone to call the head of security, Paul, so he can prepare. He should be ready, but I want to make sure everyone is on full alert.
I need to trigger a lockdown and get Lily into the vault.
I grab my phone off my desk to call security and trigger the lockdown. Lily needs to get her little ass to the vault before—
“Mr. Vanderbilt,” Paul answers, sounding hesitant, cutting through my thought.
“Be on the lookout. We’re going to have company.”
“Yes, sir. And what am I to do about Sasha? Will she go to the vault too?” The fuck did he just say?
“What?”
“Ms. Sasha arrived about an hour ago. The gate guard let her in, said she’s a long-standing—”
“Sasha?” The name lands heavily like a physical blow. I saw those older encrypted messages this morning when I started working my way through all of them. Sasha had been in some of those conversations. She even offered up her parents’ home in Paris if the queen needed a place to lie low.
I was going to deal with her, but I thought she was back on the East Coast. I wasn’t fully sure how I was going to do that. I laughed when Julian suggested I ship her over there and he’d toss her into their prison. It’s tempting.
“And where is she?”
“The greenhouse, sir. With Miss Lily and her friend. They’ve been in there for—”
I hang up. I don’t have time for his timeline, his observations, or his failure to recognize that a betrayal was walking through my front door while I was decrypting codes and messages, but I’m still to blame in the end. I should have alerted security.
I almost laugh, however. Lily and Teddy don’t have green thumbs.
There is only one reason they would have Sasha in the greenhouse.
They must be doing the same sort of gardening that Killian and I did with the two men the queen sent.
I’m sure it’s a little less brutal and consists of Lily and Teddy only interrogating Sasha.
I can picture it—the two of them looming over her, Minnie probably watching like a guard dog.
That cat is big enough to be one. Under different circumstances, I’d find it adorable, my girl learning to be ruthless, but not now when her safety is on the line.
The perimeter alarm goes off, the loud sound echoing across the entire estate so that everyone knows.
I hit the intercom button. My voice comes out calm, terrifyingly so. “Lily and Teddy. Get to the vault. Now.”
I listen, but there is static and silence. Uneasiness fills me not knowing whether or not they got the message.
I move to the security monitors. There are three heat signatures at the east wall near the service entrance. Paul’s team is already moving to intercept, but they’re outnumbered. I grab my sidearm and head for the door.
Killian materializes from the office doorway, weapon already drawn.
We don’t speak. We’ve done this before, in worse places.
But never with Lily somewhere close or a threat anywhere near her.
The queen’s people are breaching the east wall.
I have the knowledge that if I fail, Lily could die because I was too slow. I won’t let that happen.
“East wall?” Killian asks, making sure we’re both on the same page.
“Draw them away from the greenhouse.” I’m already thinking tactically, positioning the fight deliberately. If the queen’s men are focused on the east wall, Lily can move freely from the greenhouse to the main house. To the vault. Where she should be heading right now. Hopefully.
We move through the east garden, keeping to the shadows.
The smell of wet earth and cold metal lingers in the air.
Gunfire starts before we reach the wall.
Paul’s men are pinned down behind the service vehicles, shouts and muzzle flashes strobing the darkness that has now descended around us.
I count five hostiles, maybe six, moving in trained synchronized steps and purposefully.
It’s a move you make with numbers, ones they don’t have.
Killian and I move as a single organism, silent.
He glances at me once, a flicker of understanding.
This isn’t our first rodeo. We split, taking opposite sides of the tree line.
The first man dies instantly, not seeing it coming; Killian’s blade carves through his throat, and the arterial spray paints Killian’s hands and forearms. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t break stride.
Keeps moving forward like the highly trained assassin he is.
I take the second guy out at a blind corner, the cold punch of my suppressed pistol through his temple, the entry wound neat and the exit a ruin.
The third turns at the sound, panic in his eyes, and I shoot him in the sternum before he has a chance to do anything.
It’s quick and efficient, but I wish I had more time to play with them.
To make them pay more harshly for what they’ve done, what they’ve tried to do.
The fourth is bulkier and appears ready, that is until he fires.
It’s wild, the snap and whine of bullets buzzing past my ear.
He shouts into his comms, voice panicked.
I rush him, shoving his rifle aside and grabbing his wrist. I feel the snap as I break his arm. The sound is like music to my ears.
I drag him down, twist his neck, and he drops.
My own breathing is ragged, but I’m not slowing down.
The fifth and sixth try to regroup, but Killian is already too close.
It’s too late for them. He guts one and kicks the other’s knee backwards, then puts a bullet in his head.
Their bodies thump to the grass, heavy and with finality.
Seven seconds. Six bodies. Not too bad.
I taste copper and adrenaline at the back of my mouth. The garden is silent except for the ringing in my ears. Paul’s men emerge, eyes wide and faces pale in the moonlight. I see one of them wipe his mouth, another kneel and retch. I’ll deal with them later.
I wipe my bloody hands on my shirt.
“Make sure everything is secure,” I order Paul.
He gives a stiff nod. “Yes, sir.” He’s still breathing hard and shaken up. He shouldn’t be. This is his fucking job.
Killian looks at me, a question in the angle of his chin. He wants to know if we’re done here or what our next move is.
I shake my head, scanning for the next threat. We’re never done.
We head toward the greenhouse, the cold air thick with gunpowder.
I need eyes on Lily—I need to see her alive, unhurt, pissed off and furious at me if that’s what it takes.
The next alert goes off, a shrill pulse in my earpiece.
I pull out my phone and look at the screen and slow down.
Killian does the same, both of us listening.
“They made it to the house, but the vault is still open,” I tell him.
Then a scream slices through the night, cutting right through me. It’s high, furious, and wrong. It’s also from inside the house.
I look up.
In the stained glass window on the second floor of the east wing, there are three silhouettes. Another scream rips through the night, and the window explodes outward, blue and gold glass splintering into the dark. Something heavy follows—someone—falling in a cascade of shards.
The scream cuts off as the body hits the hard, unforgiving ground.
We both take off on a dead run. My gun is still warm in my hand. My shirt’s wet with someone else’s blood. None of it matters. All I care about is getting to Lily, even if I have to die doing it. I’ll take all of them with me.