Chapter 24 The Hollow Calm #2
I watched him. Watched the color drain from his face. Watched his hands curl into fists so tight his knuckles went white. Watched something inside him crack open and bleed.
“No,” he said. Quiet. Broken. “No, that's not. It can't be.”
“I ran it four times,” Noah said. Voice gentle. Careful. Like approaching wounded animal. “Handwriting matches. Digital signature authenticated with his personal encryption key. It's him, Sebastian.”
“Marcel.” Sebastian's voice cracked on the name. “Marcel, who. Who's been advising my father for twenty years. Who taught me chess. Who. Who was there after she died. Who helped. Who.”
He stopped. Swallowed hard. I saw his throat work. Saw him fighting for control and losing.
“Show me everything,” he said finally. Voice empty. Hollow. “Every payment. Every authorization. Every connection. I want to see all of it.”
Noah pulled them up. Months of transactions. Millions of pounds flowing through offshore accounts. All traced back to Crown funds. All authorized by Marcel's signature.
Payment after payment after payment. Each one forty-eight hours before an attack. Like clockwork. Like a man ordering assassination attempts the way other men order dinner.
“He's been doing this for eighteen months,” Noah said. “At least. There are references to earlier operations. Deleted files. Could go back years. But eighteen months is what I can prove right now.”
Dom moved to another computer. Started cross-referencing. “Got his calendar. Pulling up meeting records.”
The data populated. Marcel's official schedule laid bare. Meeting after meeting with foreign contractors. Arms dealers. Known mercenaries. All logged in his calendar. Hidden in plain sight among legitimate business.
“Every payment preceded by a meeting,” Dom said. “Forty-eight hours before each attack, Marcel met with someone from the operations cell. Discussed terms. Arranged logistics. Then authorized payment.”
“Christ,” Dmitri breathed. “He didn't even hide it.”
“Why would he?” Ash asked. “King's most trusted advisor. Access to everything. Who would dare question him?”
Troy leaned forward, studying photos Noah had pulled up. Contractors Marcel had met with. Known operatives. Ghost Zero associates. “That one. Third from the left. Yuri Volkov. Former Spetsnaz. Went private five years ago. Specializes in high-value target elimination.”
“How much did he pay?” Adrian asked.
Noah pulled up the transaction. “Two million pounds. Three installments over six months.”
The room went quiet. That was execution money. Not harassment. Not warning shots. Full assassination budget.
“He wasn't trying to scare you,” I said quietly. Couldn't keep the rage out of my voice. “Every attack. Every ambush. All of it was meant to succeed. He was trying to kill you.”
Sebastian's laugh was broken glass and raw wounds. “My father's best friend. The man who's had dinner at our table every week for twenty years. Who held me when I cried after she died. Who promised he'd help protect me.” His voice cracked. “He's been trying to murder me for eighteen months.”
The scope of the betrayal was staggering. Not just treachery. Not just corruption. Something deeper. More personal. More devastating.
“Is there anyone else?” I asked Noah. “Other accomplices inside the palace?”
Noah pulled up access logs. “There's one other pattern. Someone with high-level access to Sebastian's schedule. Different from Marcel's. More careful. More surgical.”
He brought up data points. Red markers indicating suspicious activity.
“This person only accesses specific entries. State dinners. Public appearances. Times when security is stretched thin. They're not mining everything like Marcel. They're precise. Taking only what they need.”
“Can you trace it?” Adrian asked.
“I've been trying for two weeks.” Noah's frustration was obvious.
“The account is routed through palace administration.
Legitimate credentials. But the access pattern is wrong.
Too precise for clerical work. And they're good. Really good. They know how to move through systems without leaving obvious traces.”
“Staff?” Troy suggested.
“Most likely. Someone with technical knowledge. Someone who understands how to hide.” Noah pulled up filtered data. “I've narrowed it to eight possibilities based on access patterns and timestamps. All palace staff. All with years of service.”
The list appeared on screen. Eight names. Eight people Sebastian probably knew. Probably trusted.
“I can't narrow it further without more data,” Noah admitted. “But it's someone in this list. Someone who's been helping Marcel coordinate from inside palace walls.”
“So Marcel has one accomplice,” Adrian summarized. “Someone technically sophisticated. Someone who's been loyal long enough to be invisible.”
“At minimum, one,” Noah corrected. “Could be more involved in other ways. Physical execution. Route changes. Maintenance. But only one person shows this specific pattern of schedule access.”
“We need to find them,” Sebastian said. Voice hard. Empty. “Find them and end this.”
“We will,” Noah assured him. “I've got algorithms running continuously now. Every time they access the system, I'm collecting more data. Building a tighter profile. It's only a matter of time.”
“Meanwhile, they're still out there,” I said. “Still working. Still coordinating with Marcel.”
“Which is why we move fast,” Adrian said. “We take Marcel first. Hard. Publicly. Make it clear we have evidence. That forces his accomplice to either expose themselves trying to help him or go to ground and wait.”
“And if they go to ground?” Sebastian asked.
“Then we hunt them in the quiet,” Luka said. Grin sharp. Dangerous. “We're very good at hunting.”
Sebastian turned back to Noah's screens. Stared at Marcel's signature. At months of betrayal documented in cold data and colder proof.
“I trusted him,” Sebastian said. So quiet I almost missed it. “When she died, he was there. He held me while I cried. Promised he'd protect me. Promised he'd help find who killed her.” His voice broke. “And all along, he was planning to kill me too.”
I moved closer. Close enough to feel his pain radiating like heat. Close enough to want to touch him and knowing I couldn't. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
“We stop him,” I said. Voice low. Firm. “We get more proof. We expose him. We destroy him.”
“How?” Sebastian looked at me. Eyes red-rimmed. Raw. Wrecked. “How do we prove this to my father? Marcel's his oldest friend. The person he trusts most in the world. He'll think we're lying. That we fabricated evidence. That we're trying to drive a wedge between them.”
“We get physical proof,” Dom said. “Documents he can't claim are fake. Evidence he can't explain away.”
“His office,” I said. Idea forming. “Tomorrow night. We hit two targets simultaneously.”
Everyone turned to look at me.
I pulled up a map of London's industrial district. “Shipment moves from the docks at twenty-three hundred tomorrow. Four trucks. Armed escort. They'll take the M25 to avoid city cameras.”
My finger traced the route. “We hit them here. Service road near the Thames. Isolated. No civilians. We disable the escort. Secure the cargo. Document everything.”
“And while you're doing that?” Adrian prompted.
“Sebastian and Dom search Marcel's office.” I looked at Sebastian. “Physical evidence. Documents. Communication records. Things he can't delete remotely or claim are fabricated.”
“I can get us in,” Dom said. “Palace security knows me. I've been doing rotation with the royal guard all week.”
“You have?” Sebastian asked.
“Adrian's orders. Backup in case Viktor got himself killed doing something stupid.” Dom's mouth twitched. “Like falling in love with his principal.”
“Fuck off,” I muttered.
But Sebastian was already studying the map. I could see his mind working. Processing. “Marcel's office has a safe. Behind the bookshelf. I've seen him use it.”
“Can you crack it?” Adrian asked.
Sebastian's laugh was dark. Sharp. “I've been breaking into palace offices since I was sixteen. His safe is a joke.”
“Team for the shipment?” Dom asked.
“You're with Sebastian,” I said. “Troy, Dmitri, and I hit the docks. Luka's people on cleanup.”
“Wait.” Sebastian looked at me. “You're not taking me to the shipment?”
“No.”
“Viktor—”
“Listen to me.” I turned to face him fully. Ignored everyone else in the room. “This is not about your skills. You're better with a bow than half my team is with rifles. You move like violence is your first language. I know what you can do.”
His jaw tightened. Waiting.
“But Marcel knows too,” I continued. Voice dropping.
Intimate despite the audience. “He knows you sneak out.
Knows you fight. Has probably been tracking your activities for months.
If you're on that operation and something goes wrong, he gets exactly what he wants. Dead prince. Case closed. He wins everything.”
Sebastian's breath caught. Understanding and fury warring across his face.
“The office is safer?” he asked. But he already knew the answer.
“The office is smarter,” I said. “Gets us evidence that matters. Physical proof your father can't dismiss. And keeps you out of the one scenario where Marcel achieves his endgame.”
“You trust Dom to keep me alive?”
“With my life. With yours.”
“And you trust me to do this without getting caught?”
“You are best thief I know. Only thief I know. But best one anyway.”
His mouth curved. Small. Broken. Real. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” He stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel his warmth.
Close enough that everyone in the room could see what we were to each other and neither of us cared anymore.
“You're right. This is smarter. Gets us more evidence. And keeps me out of the one scenario where Marcel wins everything.”
Relief crashed through me so hard I almost staggered.
“But Viktor?” His hand found my wrist. Squeezed. “If you die out there, I'm going to be very pissed. And then I'm going to burn his office down just for the satisfaction.”
“Noted.”
His thumb pressed against my pulse. Counting heartbeats. Memorizing rhythm. Like he was trying to keep me alive through force of will alone.
Adrian cleared his throat. “Good. We're agreed. Now let's talk timing.”
But I couldn't look away from Sebastian. From the devastation in his eyes. From the way betrayal had carved him open and left him bleeding.
Marcel had taken everything from him. Trust. Safety. The belief that there were people in the world who wouldn't hurt him.
Tomorrow night, we'd start taking it back.
One way or another, Marcel was finished.
I'd make sure of it.