Chapter Eighteen
Greyson
“It was the Widowers.”
Cain doesn’t waste any time cutting straight to the point.
Max and I are across the desk from him, and he has a series of reports laid out on the table in front of him—ballistics from the bombs used, and details about the plane that crashed.
A plane crash that still needs to be cleaned up, as does the entirety of the compound.
The bombs did a fair bit of damage—frankly, it’s a miracle we didn’t lose anyone.
“Is that your gut instinct, or is it confirmed?” Max questions.
He’s sitting in the seat beside mine, one ankle braced on the opposite knee, his game face in place.
I’m watching him from the corner of my eye, splitting my focus between paying attention to Cain and trying to determine whether Max is going to be an issue when it comes to my relationship with Scarlett.
My fear says yes; my gut and mind aren’t sure yet.
“Confirmed,” Cain replies. “Toby dug into it. If that isn’t enough, I received an encrypted email from Luther, which essentially warned me to back the fuck off of the Widowers or else.”
“This was a show of force,” Max murmurs, nodding slowly. “The intent wasn’t to run us out or exterminate us; this was the Widower’s way of slapping us on the wrist.”
“I don’t think that’s quite accurate,” I say, shaking my head.
“No, they might want us to think that this was a wrist-slap by their book, but it isn’t.
They’re spread thin right now, prepping for the move to their new HQ.
Their resources and manpower must be limited.
They want to scare us off for the immediate future, so they can regroup and strengthen.
Right now, they’re weak.” I think for a few beats, then nod.
“We should plan a counterstrike in a week. Enough time for them to think we’ve been thoroughly cowed. ”
“What kind of attack are you proposing?” Cain questions.
I tilt my head from side to side. “Eric’s got advanced bombs and weapon systems that’ll make the shit the Widowers dropped on us look nomadic.”
“We could launch missiles,” Max proposes.
“And invite every government in the world to take a nice, close look at our fortress?” I shake my head. “Absolutely fucking not. No, this’ll need to be covert. Were our jets destroyed in the bombings?”
Cain shakes his head. “Not all of them.”
“We could send out two, each equipped with a few bombs, and drop them on the Widowers,” Max suggests.
“That would work, but it’ll also send the surviving Widowers scattering. It’ll be tough to pin them down, and we’d need to wait until they are all settled at the new location in order to get them in one fell swoop,” Cain points out, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them.
“Do we have a list of their safehouse locations?” I ask.
Cain nods. “I can also double-check they’re up to date with Eric. He has people on the inside feeding him information. We have a call scheduled in…” he trails off the check the time. “Five minutes. Fuck, I lost track of time.” His brows furrow.
It’s completely unlike Cain to lose track of time, and I don’t think his mistake has anything to do with the chaos at the fortress.
I think it has to do with the fact that he wasn’t able to attend to whatever business in town he had today, and I strongly suspect the aforementioned business had to do with the woman he was watching on his laptop.
The woman he’s alluded to multiple times.
“Want us to sit in on the call?” Max asks.
“Silently,” Cain replies. “I’ll see if I can get the weapons we need from Eric and ask him for the most recent list of Widower safehouses. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asks, gazing at me.
“We bomb all but one of the safehouses at the same time we bomb their headquarters. They’ll assume we just didn’t know about the safehouse we leave intact, so all operatives will move there. Then, we may actually be able to take all of them out before they move shop.”
“We’ll have to reassess once the time comes—there are too many variables to know for sure.” Cain’s phone starts ringing on the desk. He gives both Max and I warning looks, reminding us to be silent, then picks up the call.
Eric doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Any casualties?”
“No,” Cain says. “Our buildings are extremely well reinforced, and the bombs dropped were amateur. Possibly home-made. There were some injuries, but nothing more.”
“Luther’s getting nervous,” Eric says. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t bother with you. He hasn’t yet heard about our blooming alliance, but he knows you’re growing too powerful to manage. That’s a good thing. He’s sloppy when he’s scared.”
Max, Cain and I all exchange glances. Eric speaks about Luther with a strange familiarity, as if he knows the man personally. Which, he very well might. He has previously mentioned being massively fucked over by Luther…
“We’re going to need to place an order with you. Explosives strong enough to blow up the Widower’s HQ and kill as many of those fuckers as possible.”
“Luther will be waiting for it. He has excellent air defense systems… unlike you.”
Cain’s jaw ticks at the insult, but he doesn’t respond. “We have someone on staff who’s confident he can disarm Luther’s defense systems. Not just the ground-to-air ones, but all of them.”
There’s a slight pause. “Tobias has gotten that good?” Eric questions, sounding almost resentful.
“He has unlimited resources with us, and all the time he’d like to work on his particular skillset,” Cain says. “He’s had the better part of a year to double down and become extremely good… and so he has.”
“I see.” Eric pauses again. “I have a crate of bombs sitting in a warehouse I can sell you. They’re military grade explosives—actually, the military hasn’t developed tech like this yet.
In any case, they’re extremely powerful and extremely dangerous.
You’ll need someone who knows their explosives to handle them. ”
“I have a guy,” Cain says.
“Good. I’ll have details for you tomorrow. Try to upgrade your defense systems soon—otherwise, you’re just sitting ducks.”
Cain’s eyes narrow. He flicks a brief, strange glance up at me, then refocuses on the phone. “How are your… personal issues treating you? Do you require any assistance?”
Eric doesn’t speak for so long that I briefly wonder if he’s hung up or the call lost connection. Finally, he says, “I’m getting to that point, yes. I had no intention of bringing it up after hearing the troubles you’ve been experiencing.”
“No trouble is too large for us to abandon an ally in a time of need.” Cain gives me another odd glance. “What’s the problem?”
Eric blows out a long breath. “My sister,” he finally says. “She’s missing.”
Something strange niggles in my gut. A hidden instinct. Memories and old thoughts prickle at my temples. There’s a puzzle here that I don’t quite understand yet; a riddle I haven’t solved. A sinking sensation in my stomach tips me off that I am about to solve it, and I won’t like the result.
“I see.” Cain’s openly staring at me right now, and something about his eye contact jogs my memories. It gets me thinking about the times when we’ve met Eric in person. The fact that there’s always seemed to be something strangely… familiar about him. “Do you have any leads?” Cain goes on.
“None. Only that this isn’t the first time she’s dropped off the face of the fucking earth.
” Eric sighs. “About a year ago, she vanished. I nearly lost my fucking mind looking for her. She came back a few months later with very little information to pass on—she doesn’t know who held her, only that they did.
And, while I don’t know the specifics of her captivity, I can safely surmise that she was not treated well. ” He audibly swallows.
Realization dawns on me with the impact of a nuclear detonation. My heart slams against my ribcage as if it’s trying to burst out, and a shudder that I can’t hide wracks my body.
About a year ago, I first kidnapped Scarlett. She escaped two months later, only to drop off the face of the earth.
I finally connect the dots that have been staring me in the face this entire time, but just far enough out of reach that I couldn’t see the bigger picture. Scarlett and Eric have the same eyes. The same nose. A similar facial structure.
Scarlett admitted to having a brother when I… persuaded the information out of her. That brother, evidently, is Eric. Eric Sharpe.
Jesus fucking Christ…
I glare at Cain, who’s still gazing at me with an unblinking expression. He knew. He knew, and he didn’t fucking tell me. He possibly knew all along, even when Scarlett was still trapped in the annex, and he continued torturing the sister of our most powerful ally… because it made a point.
He’s not just a psychopath; he’s blatantly fucking insane, because it’s only a matter of time before Eric finds out that I’m the one who took Scarlett, and when he does, we’re fucked.
He’ll be our number one enemy, and we don’t have the manpower or resources to withstand an enemy as well-connected as Eric.
We don’t have the capacity to outmaneuver or outsmart him; not when we’re so fucking dependent on him.
Cain presses his fingers to his lips, once again reminding me to be silent. Beside me, Max stands from his seat and stalks out of the room. I think he’s also connected the dots, and he’s not happy about them.
I don’t leave. As soon as Cain hangs up the phone, I’m ripping his fucking throat out.
He’s put us in a position where there is no winning.
Where he might eventually force me to give Scarlett up.
And if I don’t, we’ll be in the sort of war where there are no victors—only unimaginably devastating losses.
He’s fucking diabolical.
“I’ll look into it,” Cain says calmly. “Send me the information you have on her. Name, date of birth, last known location. Let me see what I can find.”