CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
ZARA
I’m standing on an icy sidewalk before a haunted church, mid-December in Chicago.
That bullet-in-the-chamber-of-a-six-shot-revolver example I used about chance is eerily tangible here. There’s no gun pointed at me. Just a grim cathedral with dingy white siding and stained-glass stories. The headquarters for a group that I may have been hired to take down. No big deal.
“My soul might be lost, but I’m not quite ready to relinquish it here.”
Axel huffs a subdued chuckle. “No one gets your soul, darling. Other than me.”
Every breath of the crisp air is an assault on my lungs, and despite it being winter, there’s not an alluring first-snow aroma, like what Axel provides. This is fish and caramel, sulfur and treachery. The scents of subterfuge.
And death.
We changed on the plane. Axel had brought some of my clothes, so under my wool overcoat, I’m in a professional black jumpsuit with strappy Versace heels.
I tagged them fightable shoes when I selected them earlier, but here, on the slick walkway with the amber streetlights casting a warning glow, I’m questioning my fashion choice.
As we trudge toward the front steps, I give one more seed of worry credence. “Is there a contingency plan, if they claim I didn’t do enough or I’m too much of a risk?”
Axel scans the street, his eyes drifting up and down before falling upon our destination and guiding me forward.
“My brothers have been alerted and are nearby with my security team. Jax will be here.” He grimaces as my brows pinch at the mention of Jax being here when he’s so protective of him, so he addresses that before finishing.
“Jax has KORT access, so sometimes, he attends the meetings. Rena and the babies are somewhere safe. There are two chairs we consider family—Ivy and Wells—so it shouldn’t be an issue.
But if there is even a subtle threat or accusation against you, we’ll go to war. ”
He said a lot of reassuring things on the plane, but not that.
I halt my steps, careful not to let the sparkly sheen on the ground drag me under. “Do they ever perform executions here?”
Without answering, he tows me onward, until I plant those glamorous ice picks and demand a response.
“Let me rephrase that because I know you aren’t ignoring me. If someone is deemed an enemy of KORT, do they use this ominous parish to neutralize them?”
He heaves a regretful sigh. “At times, but not tonight. You aren’t an enemy of KORT. I told you I had this handled.”
I’m not satisfied and not budging. “Are the chairs always notified if that’s planned?”
“Yes … provided they’re in good standing.” He threads our fingers and ushers me up the stairs, without expanding on his current status. “We’re late. There is nothing more important than keeping you safe, so trust me.”
I do trust him, but my sixth sense has my hackles rising. “Axel—”
The squeak of him opening the massive peaked wooden door interrupts my objection. He’s not interested in hearing anything, and while I’m capable of handling myself, his all-powerful, in-control, kinglike veneer is comforting in this scenario.
When we strut inside, Axel acts like he owns this abandoned chapel, just as he would anywhere else. So, I go with it, allowing the clap of our shoes, echoing off the grand ceilings and mixing with the whispered chants of spirits, to be a reception I embrace rather than fear.
We pass Gage on the way. He casts Axel a look I can’t interpret and offers me a wink. However this turns out, I count myself lucky to be on his good side. I’m guessing my life experience would be considered dabbling in darkness next to his barbaric résumé.
In a flash, Jax meets us with the sanctuary door open and a cryptic warning. “Don’t react.”
Choosing to ignore the chill that ices my gut, I simply nod, and he palms my head.
That chill is compounded by the fragrance of repentance and atonement—frankincense and myrrh, aged woods, candlewax, and the musty remembrance of lifted prayers.
The empty vessel containing it is creepy, to say the least. And suddenly reminiscent of a morgue.
The three of us traipse inside, where the KORT chairs greet us from a half-moon table.
Ivy and Wells sit with two other gentlemen.
Liam and Ty are here, too, standing behind the table with two men who I assume are the seconds-in-command to the other positions.
Jax saunters that way to join them while Axel ushers me to an empty chair, stationed by the pews and about twenty feet from an occupied one.
It all happens so fast, but when familiar green eyes fasten to mine, my breath hitches, and Axel’s fingers curl around my hip bone with the slightest flinch.
Don’t react.
As I take my seat, I can’t help myself. I widen my eyes with the universal question, What are you doing here?
He shakes his head and looks past me, which has all my muscles coiling.
“Are you going to join us, Axel?” the oldest gentleman at the table asks.
Like the devoted husband he is, Axel squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks, Jared. I’ll stay by my wife for this one.”
He’ll stay with me because he wasn’t expecting any of this. Our conversation out front slams into me, and a million plans flit through my mind.
“Very well.” The older guy peers my way, deliberating something.
“Good evening, Zara. I’m Jared Austen, the leader of The Order, which is a society of high-level professionals.
” He swings his hand toward the other gentleman I don’t know.
“This is Payne Logan, our financial institution representative. And you’ve met Wells and Ivy.
Wells handles data mining. And Ivy’s domain is politics.
Thank you for joining us tonight. I understand you’ve been busy since your honeymoon. ”
No wonder they’re so powerful. With Axel’s contribution of hospitality and underworld connections, they’ve got their hands in everything.
My heart thrashes against my sternum, as if it were trying to mimic those phantom chants from the spirits I sensed on our arrival. Deciding it’s best to keep my responses respectful but concise, I extend a simple, “It’s nice to meet you. And, yes, I’ve been busy.”
“Axel shared much of what you’d found, but if you could give us a quick overview, we’d appreciate it.”
With my father here, I second-guess everything I should share, wondering how it will affect him. Axel wanted me to trust that he’d handle this, but neither of us anticipated my father’s presence. This is so fucked.
It takes a beat to find my typical poise. When I do, I bypass anything about the hit on Gage and Leigh—since my father ordered it on behalf of the client. Gage probably informed Wells and Ivy, but I’m not ready to guide us in the direction of my father’s culpability.
Did they bring him here to execute him in front of me? That would be one hell of a way to warn me to comply. And a knock on death’s door for them.
Playing it safe, I jump into what I learned about Kratos, mostly about how they operate—the web of contacts, the identities I uncovered, the picture I took of the man with Claudia.
I also tell them about the Mafia foot soldiers I neutralized and used to set up some of Kratos’ men, as well as the dead end we reached due to the shredding app on the last two men’s phones.
Axel pipes up with their names since they were his members, so that should give them something to work from.
I also share the locations of two trafficking cells I’m hoping they can shut down.
After all that, the whole room waits for me to continue, and I haven’t forgotten that Jax told me not to react, but I’m too distracted. I need to understand what I’m up against.
“Would you mind if we address why my father is here?”
Payne bobs his head, pleased possibly. “I’m impressed you lasted that long without asking about your dad, Zara. Thank you for your deep dive into Kratos. That work will go a long way. Do you know who hired you to infiltrate La Lune Noire?”
My chest tightens, but I suck in a deep breath and refuse to show any defeat. “That information is rarely relayed to assassins.”
“But did you figure it out?” he presses.
That leads me to believe they know it was Kratos. And since my past work with KORT was as a proxy for Keller, who had come to them as a double agent, they likely assume that despite the intel I gathered, I’ll never be trustworthy. How the hell do I get myself and my father out of this?
I start with honesty. “I did not. Frankly, numerous things did not add up. It’s feasible that someone tampered with my mission.
I’m sure that sounds convenient, and it probably seems as though I was hired by Kratos, but my father and I would never willingly do business with an organization involved in human trafficking.
That’s always been a hard line. It’s why I went off on my own after the honeymoon.
I needed to investigate what was going on. ”
“Were you given an order that spurred that?” Jared asks.
Axel’s hand brushes the back of my neck, encouraging me to be forthright.
“I’m guessing you’re aware that I was ordered to neutralize Gage and Leigh Porter.
Knowing they were important to Axel, I was unwilling to carry it out.
But even if Axel hadn’t been a factor, I would’ve questioned that order.
This is where I believe I can point to something being amiss.
I was asked to find intel on a media conglomerate, to scrutinize anyone with access to La Lune Noire, which I did.
Nowhere in those reports were Gage and Leigh Porter because I hadn’t met them or even heard of them. ”
Wells’s focus shifts briefly between my father and me as he says, “Exactly.”
No idea what that means.
Axel steps beside me, hand still gripping my neck. “I think we can all agree this supersedes any need for a loyalty test.”
I completely forgot about that, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck.