Chapter Eight Amethyst
Dawn breaks and I’m already awake. Dressed. Armed. Ready. The bag waits by the door. Kade stands at the window. Back to me.
Rigid.
He hasn’t moved in ten minutes. Maybe longer. I pick up the bag. Walk to him. Stop beside him. He doesn’t turn. Just stares out at the trees.
His jaw is clenched. Hands fisted at his sides.
Every muscle locked tight. Like the only thing holding him together is sheer force of will.
I can see the tension in every line of his body.
The control it’s taking. To let me walk out that door.
I reach out. Touch his arm. Just once. Brief.
He turns. Looks at me. His eyes are black.
Hollow. Terrified. But he doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t try to stop me. Just looks. Like he’s trying to memorize me.
Like he’s preparing for the possibility that this is the last time he’ll ever see me.
I hold his gaze. Let him see. That I mean it. That I’m coming back.
Then I turn. Walk to the door. Open it. Step through. I don’t look back. Can’t. If I do, I won’t leave. The door closes behind me. No footsteps. No movement. No sound. Just silence. Heavy. Wrong.
I start walking to my car that The Raven brought to me. The drive takes some time. But, not enough. Every mile feels wrong. I think about turning around. About driving back. About walking through that door and pretending none of this exist. But wishing won’t change what’s waiting for me.
It won’t stop Enzo.
So I keep driving.
The warehouse is just outside city limits. Industrial district. Warehouses and shipping yards. Gray concrete. Rusted metal. Perfect for an organization that doesn’t want attention. I park three blocks away. Leave the car. Walk the rest.
The warehouse is exactly where the intel said it would be.
Three stories.
East-side loading dock.
Two exits.
One main entrance.
I’d memorized every detail. Now I can confirm.
Two guards at the main entrance. Armed. Alert.
They see me coming. Hands drift towards weapons. I keep walking. Measured. Unhurried. Like I belong here. Not someone who is a threat.
“I’m here to see Enzo," I say.
One guard steps forward. “Who are you?"
“Amethyst."
Recognition flashes across both faces. Immediate. They know exactly who I am.
“Wait here." He pulls out a radio. Speaks quietly. I wait. Patient. Calm. The guard listens. Nods. Lowers the radio.
“He’ll see you."
The door opens. I step inside.
The interior is exactly like the floor plans.
Main level: operations. Desks. Computers.
People working. They look up as I enter.
Conversations die the second I step inside.
Eyes follow me. Measuring. Curious. Suspicious.
Trying to decide whether I’m a threat. I ignore them.
Follow the guard. He leads me through the main floor.
To a staircase. Up. Second level. Offices.
Private rooms. More secure. We stop at a door. The guard knocks.
“Come in."
The voice is smooth. Controlled. The guard opens the door.
Steps aside. I walk in. The door closes behind me.
Enzo is behind a desk. Mid-forties. Sharp suit.
Charcoal gray. Perfectly tailored. His hair is dark.
Graying at the temples. Slicked back. His eyes are cold.
Not angry. Not welcoming. Just calculating.
Like he’s already deciding whether I’m useful.
He doesn’t stand. Just watches me. Silent. Assessing. I stand in front of the desk. Wait. Let him look.
“Amethyst," he says finally.
“Enzo."
“It’s been a while."
“Yes."
“Over six years, and now, Giltrude is dead."
Not a question. A statement.
“Yes," I say.
“You disappeared the same night."
“Yes."
His eyes narrow. Just slightly. “Interesting timing."
I don’t respond. Just hold his gaze. Steady. Unflinching. He leans back in his chair. Fingers steepled.
“Where have you been?"
“Away."
“That’s not an answer."
“It’s the only one you’re getting."
Silence. He studies me. Looking for cracks. Weaknesses. Lies. I give him nothing. Just wait. Finally, he smiles. Cold. Calculated.
“You always were direct," he says.
“It saves time."
“And why are you back?"
“Because I’m good at what I do," I hold his gaze. “And right now you can’t afford to turn away talent."
“I have people."
“Not like me."
He tilts his head. Considering. “This is true. Giltrude trained you well."
“She did."
“But she also kept you to herself and now she’s dead."
“Yes."
“Did you kill her?"
The question is casual. But his eyes are sharp. Watching for my reaction.
“No," I say.
Truth. Kade killed her. Not me.
“But you know who did."
He’s fishing for information. Information that I won’t give up.
“Does it matter?"
“It might."
“Giltrude is gone," I say. “The organization fractured. You’re consolidating power. You need skilled operatives. You’ve been looking for me. I’m here. That’s what matters."
He studies me. Long enough that most people would start talking just to fill the silence.
I don’t.
Finally, he stands and walks around the desk. Stops in front of me. Close. Too close. Invading my space. Testing. I don’t move. Don’t react. Just meet his eyes.
“You’re right," he says. “I do need skilled operatives, and we have been searching for you." He circles me. Slow. Predatory. “But I also need loyalty."
“You’ll have it."
“Will I?" He stops behind me. I feel his presence. Heavy. Threatening. “You disappeared for weeks," he says. “No contact. No explanation. And now you return. Convenient."
“I’m not here to be convenient," I say. “I’m here to work."
“And if I don’t trust you?"
“Then don’t use me for anything sensitive. Test me. Watch me. Decide for yourself."
Silence. He moves back around. Faces me. His expression is unreadable.
“You’re either very confident," he says, “or very stupid."
“I’m practical."
He laughs. Short. Sharp. “I can use practical."
He walks back to his desk. Sits.
“You’ll start tomorrow," he says. “Report to Marcus. Second level, east wing. He’ll assign you."
“Understood."
“And Amethyst?"
I wait.
“Don’t make me regret this."
I nod. Turn. Walk to the door.
“One more thing."
I stop. Look back.
“Welcome back."
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Mine doesn’t reach mine either.
I leave.
The rest of the day is observation. I’m halfway down the corridor when it hits me.
Something doesn’t fit. The way he looked at me.
Not suspicious. Not hostile. Not like someone looking at a traitor.
Like someone looking at an operative returning from an assignment.
Working. I stop walking. Process. Enzo said: “You disappeared for weeks. No contact. No explanation."
Not: “You defected."
Not: “You abandoned us."
Not: “You betrayed Giltrude."
Just:
“You disappeared.”
The realization settles cold and sharp.
Giltrude never told them. The realization settles cold and clean.
She never told them. Never closed our files. Never marked us rogue. She left my status untouched. Active.
Operational.
Deployable.
I stop walking. Because that doesn’t make sense. Giltrude trusted no one. Planned for everything. Controlled everything. Nothing happened by accident. Not in her organization. Not under her watch. Which means she left that door open on purpose.
I stare down the corridor.
Why?Insurance?A contingency?
A weapon she wasn’t ready to discard?
I don’t know.
Maybe I never will. Giltrude is dead. The answer died with her.
But the result is standing right in front of me.
Enzo looked at me and saw an operative returning from an assignment.
Not a traitor. Not a liability. Not a threat.
An assess. A useful one. I start walking again.
Doesn’t matter why she did it. What matters is that she did.
Enzo tested me. Circled me. Looking for cracks. Not betrayal. But for weakness. Instability.
Liability.
I gave him nothing.
Just competence.
Confidence.
Control
He accepted it. He liked it. Respected it. And now I have access.
Better access than I expected. Not an infiltrator. But as one of them. A returning operative. Someone who already belongs.
I reach my room. Close the door. Sit on the bed. The advantage is significant. I can move through the organization without suspicion.
Get close to Mateo.
Lucia.
Rafe.
Observe without raising alarms. Can observe their routines, their vulnerabilities, their patterns without raising flags.
They’ll think I’m just reintegrating. Just getting back up to speed. Just doing my job. Giltrude’s silence was a gift. Intentional or not. The dead don’t get to choose how their advantages are used. I’ll use it.
I’m given a room. Small. Third level. Functional.
I drop my bag. Then I move. Mapping.
Main floor: Operations. Twenty people. Minimum. Communications. Logistics. Workstations.
Second level: Management. Offices. Meeting rooms. Enzo’s domain.
Third level: Living quarters. For operatives who stay on-site. I count exits. Security cameras. Guard rotations. Blind spots.
I see the three other targets. Lucia is in the east wing, second level. Military bearing. Giltrude’s former head of security.
Mateo is on Main floor. Sharp eyes. Runs communications. Was Giltrude’s intelligence coordinator.
Rafe is at the Loading dock. Heavy build. Handles logistics, handling, and finances. Giltrude’s quartermaster.
All three were inner circle. All three are now Enzo’s lieutenants. All three need to die. I memorize faces. Patterns. Routines. Who talks to who. Who has access to what. Where the power flows.
By evening, I have a map. Mental. Detailed. Accurate.
I return Back to the room. Close the door.
Sit on the bed. Check my watch. 7:47 PM.
Thirteen minutes. I pull out the communication device.
Small. Encrypted. I hold it. Wait. The minutes crawl.
7:55. 7:58. 8:00. I activate it. The connection opens.
Silence. Then— “Amethyst." His voice. Rough. Strained. Like he hasn’t spoken all day.
“I’m in," I say. Quiet. Professional. “I’m safe."
Silence. I can hear him breathing. Uneven. Controlled. Barely.
“Tomorrow," I say.
“Tomorrow." His voice cracks. Just slightly.
I close my eyes. Distance. Separation. Him.
“Kade—"
“Don’t." Sharp. Final. “Just... tomorrow."
“Tomorrow," I repeat.
The connection cuts. Silence. I sit there. Device in my hand. Staring at nothing. He’s barely holding on. I know it. He knows it. But he’s holding. That’s enough. It has to be. I put the device away. Stand. Walk to the window.
The city spreads out below. Lights. Movement. Life.
He’s at the cabin, waiting. Unraveling. Holding himself together by force. Alone.
“I’m coming back," I whisper. To the glass. To the night. To him. Even though he can’t hear me.
Then I turn away. Back to the room. Back to the mission. Tomorrow, I get closer to the targets. Tomorrow, I start the hunt.