Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Erin
The message arrives while Lucian is explaining to the entire war room why I am absolutely not going to Bachman Village and I’ll be moving to Cass and Ryan’s locations as soon as possible.
Which, I will not be.
Obviously.
Rafe stands at the head of the table, one hand braced against the wood, the other moving between feeds. Gregory is beside him, glasses low on his nose, his notepad already full of tiny diagrams.
Blaze leans against the wall, arms crossed, looking less violently bored than before his wife came.
Isobel sits at the far end of the table under guard, pale and quiet, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles are white.
And Lucian stands beside me like a storm. “You’re not going,” he says.
I say, “We haven’t even finished discussing the plan.”
“We do not need to finish discussing a plan that includes you walking into Carlos’s reach.”
“Lucian.”
“No.”
I look at Rafe. “Is there a version of this conversation where he becomes reasonable?”
Rafe does not look up from his tablet. “Historically, no.”
Blaze snorts. “I’ve seen brick walls with more flexibility.”
Lucian’s gaze cuts to him.
Blaze lifts both hands. “Emotionally supportive brick walls.”
Cass would love this.
Cass is not here.
That is the one good thing about today.
She and Ryan are already being moved to a secondary secure location in Norway with Mack’s best men, two of Rafe’s people, and enough surveillance to keep even Cass contained. Gregory had the idea to send them. Lucian agreed before Gregory finished speaking.
Ryan thinks they are going on an “inside camping trip” with snacks and movies.
Cass thinks we are all insane.
Lucian thought he could get me to go with them.
I fold my arms. “You promised partnership.”
Lucian turns fully toward me. “You are confusing partnership with idiocy.”
“Carlos wants you frantic. He wants you blind. He wants you making decisions from fear instead of strategy.” I take a breath. “Which you are.”
Blaze points the switchblade of his knife in his hand at the sky. “She’s right.”
Lucian does not look away from me. “Stay out of this.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Blaze says.
Lucian’s expression goes lethal.
“Not helping,” I tell Blaze. Rafe’s tablet chimes. The sound cuts through the room.
Every word dies, and every body in the room goes still.
“From Carlos?” Gregory asks.
Rafe taps once. “Same routing style. Old credential chain. Dead account layered over two false relays.”
Lucian’s voice is ice. “Put it up.”
The screen goes black. Then white text appears.
COME, LUCIAN. TO WHERE THE GATES OPENED INVITING IN HELL.
LET’S SEE WHETHER QUEENS BURN BETTER THAN GHOSTS.
Can’t breathe. No one speaks.
Not even Blaze.
Progress under Cleo’s control. We love to see it.
Rafe zooms in on the message structure. “He wants a reaction.”
“He wants the Village before we even finish reconstruction,” Blaze says.
“He wants Erin,” Lucian snaps. “Which is why after this meeting, she’ll be joining Cass and Ryan.”
“He wants both,” Rafe says.
He left Iceland two days ago, technically. His voice still appears in our lives whenever something dangerous happens, like a Scottish ghost with cheekbones.
On-screen, Bayne lounges somewhere dark and expensive, probably on one of his wee islands, looking both amused and prepared to order someone’s murder before tea. He’s not been able to fully give us up, yet.
Carlos loves his theater. His messages mean many things.
“Rafe,” I say slowly. “Bring up all of Carlos’s typed messages.”
Lucian’s head turns. “What? Why?”
“Please.”
Rafe does and every message Carlos has sent appears on the screen.
My skin prickles.
Gregory leans closer. “What are you seeing?”
I shake my head, thinking. “I don’t know yet.”
Lucian’s voice lowers. “Erin.”
“Don’t rush me.”
Blaze mutters, “Brave.”
I ignore him. I read them all again. And again.
Proof. Mistake. First night. Queens. Ghosts. Come home.
My eyes narrow. “I feel like he thinks the Village is a stage. And he’s putting on a play with everyone he’s killed. Lucian and Gregory’s father. Carlos’s men. Isobel. Marina.”
Isobel looks up. Her eyes are hollow.
“That is what Carlos does,” she says quietly. “He loves a good show.”
Like the tragedy he wrote where Isobel turns on her love to follow the devil to hell.
“Yes,” I say. “But there’s something else.” My heart starts beating faster. “Everyone keeps asking who opened the gates for the attack on the Village. Your father. Marina. Carlos. The Morettis. Isobel. Whoever had the seal. But Carlos doesn’t talk about who; he’s saying where.”
Gregory’s gaze snaps to mine. “Where,” he repeats.
“Yes. Where the gates opened. Not who opened them. We know they used the delay to open one of the gates to get inside the Village.”
Lucian becomes so still I can feel the danger in him settling into attention.
Gregory’s voice quickens. “The twelve-second delay wasn’t only a timing flaw to get one man inside one gate to plant explosives for the attack?”
“No,” I say, pulse racing now. “It’s something more. I just don’t know what.”
Gregory nods. “A sequence of doors? A future map of how to get in all the gates?”
Blaze mutters. “God forbid one psycho be straightforward.”
“As a security protocol, no one is allowed inside the new walls right now. Only the vetted of the vetted have access to the rebuild. And whoever went in isn’t allowed to leave those gates until it’s finished and all new security systems are in place.”
“The new gates have never been opened?” I ask.
“No.” Gregory taps the screen. “If he wants to get into the new gates, to destroy the rebuilding of the Village, he needs movement. Security protocols. Gate responses.”
Rafe says, “He’s primed us to be emotional and reactive. He expects this last message to be the tipping point.”
“And make us want to run to the Village to defend what we have.” Blaze laughs. “Damn. It worked on me. I’m ready to storm our gates.”
“Exactly, Blaze. He needs us there, opening the gates, triggering the system.”
Rafe’s eyes lift. “And if we don’t—”
Lucian finally speaks. “We force him to spend his final move.”
“You need him to think you are doing exactly what he wants and that his emotional warfare has paid off. Then,” Isobel almost smiles, “his pride and ego will inflate. He’ll think he’s already won. And that’s when he becomes weak.”
“We need a controlled arrival at Bachman Village. Visible enough to wake his surveillance. Protected enough to limit exposure.”
“And I need to be there,” I say. “If Carlos sees me, he’ll think Lucian’s failed to protect me, that he’s put our attack over my safety.”
“And he’ll inflate. And make mistakes,” Isobel agrees.
“No,” Lucian says.
My head turns. “What?”
His eyes are on me, and they turn black. “Careful.”
“No.” I take another step. “You don’t get to pull me back, now.”
Blaze whispers, “Where is my popcorn?”
“Shut up,” Lucian says.
Blaze shuts up. Miracles happen.
I look only at Lucian. “He calls me queen because he wants you to treat me like a piece on your board. A game move you can play when you feel threatened.”
“I do feel threatened,” he growls. “And when I feel threatened, I want to lock you away. As far from our games as possible.”
“Lucian, I see the board clearly. I’m a game player, not a pawn. But for us to succeed, he needs to think I am.
His jaw flexes. “I hate this,” he says.
“I know,” I say.
“I hate every word coming out of your mouth.”
“I know,” I say.
“I hate that you’re right.”
That makes me smile. “I know.”
Rafe clears his throat, wisely gentle. “She does not need to enter uncontrolled. We can build a contained arrival. Erin appears as part of the visible team. Not isolated. Not exposed. Lucian within reach. Blaze close. I control exterior feeds. Gregory monitors the old gate sequence.”
“And Isobel?” I ask. The room goes quiet.
Isobel’s face pales further. “Carlos said queens burn better than ghosts. He wants both, the old one and the new one.”
“And what?” Lucian asks. “You want to volunteer as tribute, Katniss?”
How dare he reference my favorite book character at a time like this.
“No,” she says, her voice thin but clear. “But if you hide me, he will use it. If I appear controlled, guarded, alive, and not crawling back to him, it may force him to adjust.”
Lucian’s stare could freeze oceans. “You do not get to ask me to trust you.”
“I’m not asking for trust,” Isobel says. “I’m offering predictability. Carlos will watch me. Use that.”
A bitter laugh leaves Blaze. “Hell of a sales pitch.”
Bayne’s voice comes through the screen. “She is not wrong.”
I forgot he was even here.
Lucian looks murderous. I touch his arm. “Lucian.”
“No.”
“We need to force him to play his last move.”
His eyes close for one second. When they open, they are clear. “Controlled arrival team,” he says. “Visible but contained. Erin appears only when and where I say.”
“No,” I say.
His eyes snap to mine.
I lift my chin. “Where Rafe says. Based on the plan. Not based on your panic.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek.
Rafe suddenly becomes extremely interested in his tablet, like he’s hiding a laugh he knows will get him killed.
Lucian steps close enough that I feel the heat of him. His mouth is by my ear. “You are pushing very hard for a woman I am considering locking in a vault.”
“And you are threatening imprisonment for a man trying to prove he trusts me,” I hiss between my clenched teeth.
He moves away with a furious exhale. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I repeat.
His gaze returns to mine.
Dark. Possessive. Furious.
Terrified.
“Yes, Erin. Fine.”
Blaze whistles under his breath. “Write it down, Oxford. We’re making history today.”
Lucian ignores him. “You appear as part of the controlled arrival team,” he says. “You do not improvise.”
I open my mouth to deny I’ve ever put myself in danger by creating terrible plans that I then followed.
His eyes narrow. “Do not make me regret this in the first thirty seconds.”
“No improvising. Got it.” I close my mouth.
Bayne laughs from the screen. “God, I hope I make it back for the wedding.”
“There is no wedding,” I say. “Because there hasn’t been a proposal.”
Lucian’s eyes remain on mine. His expression changes. His thumb brushes the bare skin at my wrist.
Once.
A lovely little promise.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. Here we are plotting a man’s death, and I’m imagining wedding dresses. Silly girl.
The room returns to movement.
Rafe starts assigning positions. Gregory maps gate sequences. Blaze checks weapons with the expression of a man finally being given something useful to do. Isobel sits very still, as if any sudden movement might make her regret offering herself as a ghost.
Lucian pulls me aside when the others are occupied. We stand near the window; the Icelandic coast crashes black and violent below us.
I think he might kiss me. Instead, he grips my chin and tilts my face up.
His voice is low enough for only me. “I am agreeing because I’m doing my part in this.”
My heart stumbles. “In us?”
“Yes.” His eyes burn. “If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t.”
His thumb strokes once along my jaw. “If this goes wrong, Erin, everything right left in me goes with it.”
My chest tightens. He’s the man trying to choose trust while every scar on him screams cage. “Then we make sure it doesn’t go wrong.”
His mouth lowers to mine.
The kiss isn’t soft or sweet.
It is terror in the shape of possession.
I kiss him back just as hard. Because I’m scared too.
When Lucian pulls away, his forehead stays against mine. “I hate every second of this,” he says.
I close my eyes. “I know.”