Chapter 12
Twelve
Nikos stood at the top of the stairwell, his arms crossed and his shoulder resting against the wall as he watched Kiki say goodbye.
She spoke in a low voice to Harvey and Jim, her words too quiet for him to hear, but her expression said everything. She was trying to smile, but the strain showed in the taut line of her jaw, the sheen in her eyes, and the tremble in her hands.
She leaned down, kissed Ms. Peabody on the head, and whispered something that made the cat bump her chin with affection. Nikos’s chest tightened.
Damn cat was going to be better off than most people. But Kiki… Kiki was leaving behind her sanctuary. Her chosen family.
And it was eating her alive.
He couldn’t help moving closer.
“I’ll come back for you,” she murmured, just loud enough for Nikos to catch. “You’re going to love it here with Harvey and Jim. You’ll be spoiled rotten. But I’ll be back. I promise.”
Harvey gave her a tight hug, his voice gruff with emotion. “Be safe, sweetheart.”
When she turned to Jim, he gave her a chiding look touched with grief. He breathed in a shuddering breath as he opened his arms. She hugged him fiercely—and Nikos noticed the flicker of confusion that crossed both men’s faces when she stepped away.
Kiki smiled and tilted her head.
“I’m so glad you found your cat,” she said with forced cheerful ease.
Harvey blinked and gave her a crooked smile. Jim frowned, then nodded slowly. “Yeah… thanks for your help, miss. We, uh, really appreciate it.”
“Take good care of her,” Kiki replied softly, touching each man once more before she turned away.
Nikos swallowed hard.
Kiki released a trembling breath, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she gazed at him before she lowered her head and walked past Nikos without a word. Her shoulders were tight with control. His throat worked, emotion catching behind his ribs as the desire to comfort her swelled inside him.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the closed apartment door before hurrying down after her.
The city outside was dark, wet, and hushed. Early morning rain slicked the sidewalks in silver threads. Kiki tugged her hoodie up as Nikos opened the Model Y’s back door.
She didn’t look at him, just climbed inside and curled against the seat, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other clenched in her lap.
Markos glanced at him as Nikos slid into the passenger seat. He didn’t ask about what had happened upstairs. He just drove.
They didn’t speak for several blocks.
Finally, Markos cleared his throat. “So… where are we going? We can’t exactly go back to our places. And the club’s off the table.”
“No,” Kiki said hoarsely from the back. “We can’t go anywhere we’ve been before. Both of your places will be monitored. Eric will have been there. If he hasn’t already realized that I’m with you yet, it won’t be long.”
“We need to return Rhys’s car to him,” Nikos added.
Markos arched a brow. “So, what do you suggest? We wave down a cab and plaster our faces across every surveillance system in the city? We need transportation.”
A grin spread across Nikos’s face.
“I’ll leave a message where he can pick it up. I have a car—or rather, a van we can use,” he said.
Forty minutes later, they were standing in a dimly lit, industrial car storage garage on the edge of Queens.
And staring at a 1990 Volkswagen Westfalia.
Not just any VW Westfalia. This one bloomed with wild swirls of purple, orange, red, yellow, and green flowers painted across every surface.
Neon green peace signs spiraled over the hood and peppered between the colorful blossoms. In addition, there were yellow paw prints trailing up the back like a parade of glitter-drunk puppies.
It was, without question, the most ridiculous vehicle Nikos had ever seen.
And still just as shocking.
Markos looked at the vehicle with an offended expression. “You’ve lost your damn mind.”
Nikos laughed. “You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? Of that?” Markos pointed. “That’s not a getaway vehicle. That’s a cry for help.”
“It’s Rose’s,” Nikos said, retrieving the key from its hiding spot behind the rear bumper. “Theo’s wife. She bought it when she was dodging him cross-country. They asked me to store it.”
“Why?” Markos dryly inquired before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Never mind. I know Rose. I’m riding in the back. Wake me when it’s all over.”
Kiki suddenly lit up. “No way! I’m calling dibs on the back. I want to check it out.”
Nikos opened the sliding door for her, watching the transformation in her face as she climbed in.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “I’m in love.”
“She says that now,” Markos muttered. “Wait until we hit fifty and have to push it uphill.”
Nikos snorted as he climbed behind the wheel. “We’re not exactly trying to outrun anyone, remember? We’re hiding.”
Markos stared at him. “In that?”
Nikos grinned. “Nobody would think of looking for us in a Scooby-Doo van. It’ll be perfect to take to a lake house in upstate New York. It fits in.”
Markos groaned and climbed into the passenger seat. “Angel’s place. That’s your next master plan? You know he’ll kill you if that place gets wrecked.”
Nikos snorted. “It’s isolated, secure, and stocked. We go there, rest, call in Angel, Lucas, Cole, and contact Theo. Once we get the team in place, we take the offensive.”
As they pulled out of the garage and hit the road, the city lights faded behind them.
Rain misted the windshield. The low hum of tires on wet pavement filled the silence.
In the rearview mirror, Nikos caught Kiki’s gaze.
She was watching him, her eyes luminous in the dark. Fear swirled behind them. But so did something else.
Hope… and curiosity.
He smiled softly, then looked forward, tightening his grip on the wheel.
Whatever came next, she wouldn’t face it alone again.
She was his.
And he protected what was his.
The hotel suite reeked of cheap cologne, sweat, and stale cigarette smoke that clung to two of three men playing cards at the small table.
Eric stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the glowing tablet before him.
Data scrolled past: timestamps, security footage, intercepted communications. His expression never wavered.
To the three men lounging nearby, he looked calm. Controlled. Unbothered.
Truth was, he was tense, and unease roiled inside him. He didn’t trust any of them. He didn’t trust anyone.
He studied the images of the two men. While they were identical twins, they were polar opposites.
Nikos Aeto’s eyes glimmered with amusement, his smile came easier, his shoulders were more relaxed.
Markos Aeto was the direct opposite of his brother.
Markos’ eyes held shadows, from the images he had seen the man seldom smiled, and there was a tense readiness in him that reminded Eric of a predator waiting to strike.
He focused, searching for the man. Visions of bright lights, bodies moving in unison. They were together. He opened his eyes. The men owned a popular nightclub called The Rocks.
He frowned, sensing a disruption. He had felt it earlier as well. It was a strange feeling, almost like he was brushing up against an invisible shield.
A shadow fell across his screen. Lyle Henry—tall, brutish, and always two seconds away from violence—held out a phone.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
Eric took the phone without looking up. Cold glass kissed his ear.
“I’m listening,” he said.
The voice that answered was deep. Smooth, hypnotic. The silky notes threaded in the rhythm slithered down his spine like black ice.
The voice belonged to Dr. Benoit Jeffries, a Founder director.
Jeffries was the only one he had ever met. He knew there were three of them. The other two remained in the shadows behind a curtain that stretched across continents.
But… it was Jeffries who ran everything. Everyone.
Well—
Almost everyone.
His lips curled faintly.
Not Brie.
And definitely not Kiki.
Brie and Kiki were like him, yet different. Jeffries called them strangelings.
He met Brie after he had almost died on a mission. It was only after that happened that he discovered there were others like him.
The Founders had kept him and Brie separate—until they realized how much stronger they were together. It was several years later when he was introduced to Kiki.
Eric knew little about Kiki’s full talents.
While Jeffries had introduced the younger girl to him and Brie, Jeffries had kept the other girl isolated, seldom letting them interact together and never without a handler nearby.
Despite their rare meetings, he had sensed the other girl was extremely talented.
And that’s what worried him.
Jeffries’ voice cut through his thoughts, forcing him to concentrate on the conversation at hand and not his memories.
“Why has the mission not been completed?”
Eric’s tone remained even. “The information provided was flawed. The location of the target was incorrect.”
He didn’t mention his unease—or his sudden memories of Kiki. There was an extended pause, almost as if Jeffries could read his thoughts. Eric checked the shield he had instinctively erected. It was intact. Still, the surrounding air seemed to chill.
“Retrieve both brothers,” the voice commanded. “I need both of them.”
Eric turned so Lyle couldn’t see his expression. He stared out over the glittering city beneath the overcast sky. His reflection shimmered in the glass—sharp suit, firm jaw, shielded eyes.
A mask crafted to protect the truth beneath. His image blurred for a second, replaced by another. It was just a flicker. A shadow that wasn’t a shadow.
A figure where there should be none.
His brow furrowed as he tried to capture what he was seeing. Across the glass skyline, in the mirrored sheen of a high-rise window, he saw a young woman with defiant eyes.
An exotic face framed by a tangle of wild, dark curls, skin the same color as his, and striking, almond-shaped eyes that spoke of a distant land. Her face turned toward him, her arms outstretched, as if reaching through the storm.
A pulse rippled through his chest—foreign. Familiar.
Lightning flashed in the distance.
It was her—Kiki—only older.
His breath caught, and he gripped the phone in his hand. He stared harder, trying to recapture the image, but it was gone—as if it had never truly been there.
Behind him, the tablet’s glow flickered. The screen glitched for half a second, spitting static. Then returned to normal.
A low hum buzzed in the base of his skull, like a tuning fork struck off-key. Eric’s fingers twitched.
A warning.
Of a memory he wasn’t supposed to have.
He didn’t know why the vision rattled him more than Jeffries’s call—but it did.
Vague images surfaced, almost as if they had been buried. Memories of frantic whispers, desperate pleas, before an intense sorrow struck him, then—nothing. It was as if a memory had been erased yet refused to stay hidden.
Come with us, the haunting voices pleaded.
“Eric, do you understand your mission?” Jeffries asked.
He gritted his teeth before he responded.
“They won’t be easy to capture,” he said carefully, refocusing on his conversation. “Both men are well known, wealthy, with a large, trained security force.”
“They are assets,” Jeffries replied coldly. “You will secure them. They are key to bringing Brie home.”
The voice lowered.
A whisper laced with poison.
“Don’t you want to bring your sister home, Eric?”
Eric’s grip tightened on the phone. Pain lanced through him. His voice, when it came, was quiet.
“Yes, I’ll find them. And I’ll bring her home.”
The call ended with a soft click.
Silence rushed in, followed by a nauseating wave of residual energy—something cold and invasive, crawling beneath his skin like static.
He tossed the phone to Lyle without a word.
“Where the hell are you going?” Lyle asked, his brow furrowed.
Eric’s smile was thin. “To take a piss.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He walked to the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it with a soft click.
The moment the latch caught, he stepped over to the toilet, lifted the lid. He braced his hands on the porcelain, breathing hard. His stomach turned violently, leaving him cold and shaken.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Sweat clung to his skin. Behind him, muffled through the door, the men were laughing.
“Think he pissed himself?” Drew chuckled.
“Nah, maybe he’s just in love with the Director and wants to get off,” Andre joked. “Did you see his face?”
Their voices blurred into an indistinguishable murmur. A single thought consumed him, and his focus narrowed. He flushed the toilet, lowered the lid, and turned away. He crossed to the sink and turned on the tap. The cool water felt refreshing against his clammy skin.
His reflection stared back—pale, haunted, eyes too old for someone so young. He ran a hand over his short black hair, smoothing it. His olive complexion slowly returned, though the ghost of something else lingered.
Pain. Rage. Regret. Resolve.
His thoughts flickered to the image in the glass he had seen. If the vision he saw truly was of Kiki, she was much more powerful than he remembered—and she knew about him. He didn’t know how, but he was sure she had been close, and they would meet again—soon. Very soon.
He breathed deeply, controlling the residual pain coursing through him, and straightened. Exhaling, he adjusted the open collar of his pale blue dress shirt before tugging at the cuffs. He flexed his fingers when he noticed his hands trembled slightly.
The laughter echoed through the door. It was tempting—to silence them. To make them scream.
Not yet, he reminded himself. Soon. Patience.
He unlocked the door and stepped back into the suite. The laughter stopped. All three men straightened as if they hadn’t been talking behind his back.
He picked up his jacket and walked toward the exit.
Lyle rose and stepped forward, blocking him. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Eric paused.
He looked at Lyle—really looked—and had to remind himself not yet for the second time.
“To The Rocks,” he said flatly. “The man we should’ve been after is there.”
Andre grinned, rising to his feet. “Now that’s more like it.”
Drew rubbed his hands together. “Let’s hit the club. Maybe grab a drink after.”
Lyle scowled. “You’re not doing anything stupid, right?”
Eric turned and met his eyes.
His smile spread—slow, deliberate, unsettling.
“Only if someone gets in my way,” he said evenly.
The color drained from Lyle’s face.
Without another word, Eric opened the door and stepped into the hall. The soft click of the latch behind him echoed like a trigger pulled in silence.