53. Fifty-Two

The black hood scratched against my face as I was dragged from the SUV, disoriented and off-balance. Hands gripped my arms tightly, guiding me with ruthless efficiency over what felt like gravel, then concrete. The crunch of boots and the rustle of clothing were my only clues to our surroundings, the sound strangely muffled by the thick fabric over my head.

A heavy metal door clanged shut behind us, the echo ringing in my ears. The air turned cold and damp, chilling the sweat on my skin as we descended deeper into whatever forsaken hole they'd brought us to. I tried to keep track of the turns, but it was impossible in the dark with my senses so dulled.

The hands on my arms tightened, bringing me to an abrupt halt. Keys jangled, and a bolt scraped back. I tensed, bracing myself as I was shoved forward into a space that felt cavernous after the claustrophobic hood.

The heavy fabric was yanked away without warning. Light speared my eyes, sharp and blinding after so long in darkness. I squinted against the assault, blinking rapidly as the room slowly swam into focus.

It was a far cry from the bare concrete box I'd been expecting. Thick carpet cushioned my feet, a rich burgundy that complemented the mahogany paneled walls. The room was lavishly appointed, more akin to a high-end executive office than an interrogation chamber. A massive desk of polished mahogany dominated the space, its surface bare save for a sleek laptop and a cut crystal decanter filled with amber liquid. Behind it, a high-backed leather chair sat like a throne, exuding an aura of power and authority.

I tore my gaze from the imposing furniture, taking in the rest of the room with a growing sense of unease. The walls were lined with bookcases, their shelves heavy with leather-bound tomes that looked old enough to crumble at a touch. Interspersed among the books were strange, esoteric artifacts—a bronze sculpture of entwined serpents, a preserved scorpion suspended in a glass sphere, an ancient-looking scroll encased in a climate-controlled display. Each piece seemed to watch me with a dark, knowing intelligence, as if privy to secrets I could scarcely imagine.

My eyes drifted to the far wall, where a large painting hung in an ornate gilded frame, and I froze. I knew that artwork, had studied it while flipping through art history books. One of Raphael’s great masterpieces lost to the world since the Nazis plundered it during their reign of terror.

And yet here it was, hanging mere feet from me in all its enigmatic glory. The young man's eyes, dark and enigmatic, seemed to pierce through the centuries to meet my gaze.

I drank in every brushstroke, marveling at the subtlety of shading that brought his features to life. The rich earth tones of his doublet, the delicate gold chain resting against his chest, the way the light played across the planes of his face… Each detail was rendered with a skill that bordered on the divine. This was the hand of a master, a genius who could capture the essence of a soul on canvas.

How had this priceless artwork found its way here, to this strange, opulent room in the middle of nowhere? What sort of person would have the resources, the connections, to acquire a painting that had been lost for the better part of a century? No one good, that was for certain.

The door swung open, and I flinched, immediately backing toward the nearest wall as Algerone entered the room, followed by the man with the tablet we’d met that night at the mansion sex party. Maximillion or Maxene…Max something.

Algerone looked like he had just stepped out of a boardroom, his tailored suit impeccable, not a hair out of place. “Elias Baker,” Algerone said smoothly. “I apologize for the rough treatment. My men can be a bit... overzealous at times.”

I stared at him, skeptical. Was he seriously trying to play nice after having me black-bagged and dragged here against my will? I wasn’t stupid. I knew his game, had seen him play his hand already. The pleasant facade, the false warmth - it was all a mask, a tool to lull his victims into a false sense of security before he struck.

“Cut the crap, Algerone,” I snapped, pushing away from the wall. “Where are Shepherd and the other Laskins?”

Algerone's dark eyes glittered, his lips curving into a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. “They are being well cared for, I assure you. They're honored guests.”

“Guests?” I scoffed. “Is that what you call this? Some goddamn hospitality.”

Algerone spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture, the picture of wounded sincerity. “A regrettable necessity, I'm afraid. We have much to discuss, and I couldn't risk any... misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings,” I repeated flatly, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “What possible misunderstanding can there be?”

Algerone clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if scolding a child. “Shepherd is a brilliant man, but he can be shortsighted. Ruled by emotion. He doesn't see the bigger picture.”

“And what's that? Your twisted little empire? Your delusions of grandeur?” I took a step forward, my anger rising with each word. “Xander, Xavier, and Xion are here. You said so yourself, which means you got your sons and we fulfilled our part of the bargain. You promised to rescue Dani to Shepherd if he brought you his brothers, so fucking keep your word. Let everyone go and let this end. Peacefully.”

Algerone's eyes hardened, his pleasant mask slipping to reveal the cold, calculating monster beneath. “I'm afraid it's not that simple, Elias. The agreement was for Shepherd to bring my sons to me, yes. And while I have my sons here finally, it was no thanks to him. Shepherd spent months stalling, misdirecting, and otherwise obstructing what could have been a straightforward deal. And now he must pay the price.”

I stared at Algerone, my heart pounding against my ribs as a cold sweat prickled my skin. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Algerone smiled, a chilling thing devoid of any real warmth or humanity. “Shepherd and the other Laskins have been quite the thorn in my side. If I let them go, they’ll likely retaliate against me for recent events, and that’s saying nothing of the conflict it will create for my triplets. There is no reason for them to have to choose between the family of criminals that raised them and their real family. Now that I have all the Laskins and their associates, I plan to hand them over to the FBI to prosecute for their crimes. They’re going away for a long time, Eli.”

I thought I was going to be sick. “This whole thing was a set up,” I said. “You never had any intention of letting Shepherd or any of the rest of his family go, did you?”

Algerone's dark chuckle sent a chill skittering down my spine. “You have spirit, Elias. I can see why Shepherd is so taken with you.” He stepped closer, his expensive cologne invading my senses. “But spirit alone won't save you, or him.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, refusing to back down even as my pulse hammered in my throat. “You're nothing but a sadistic bastard on a power trip. You think you can manipulate everyone, pull all the strings from your lofty perch, but it's going to come back and bite you in the ass.”

Algerone's eyes flashed. “You have no idea who you're dealing with, boy,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Be careful how you speak to me, or you may find I am less generous than I appear.”

He turned to the desk, pouring himself a drink from the cut crystal decanter with a steady hand. The amber liquid caught the light, casting reflections across the polished mahogany.

I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, glaring daggers at Algerone's back as he savored his fancy ass drink. This whole room, with its plush carpet and wood paneling and that creepy as fuck painting, was like a stage. A set carefully designed to project an image of wealth and power and refinement. But I saw through the bullshit. Algerone could dress it up however he wanted, could hide behind his tailored suits and his flowery words, but at the end of the day, he was nothing more than a two-bit thug. A bully who got off on toying with people's lives.

“So what now?” I bit out, my fingernails cutting into my palms. “You gonna monologue me to death, or is there an actual point to this shitshow?”

Algerone turned, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He sipped his drink, taking his sweet ass time before answering. “You have a choice to make, Elias.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, this ought to be good. Let me guess, you're going to offer me some devil's bargain? My soul for a get out of jail free card?”

Algerone chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Nothing so dramatic. I am simply offering you an opportunity. A chance to start fresh, unburdened by the mistakes of your past.”

He walked around the desk. The plush carpet swallowed the sound of his designer shoes. He came to a stop in front of me, close enough that I could see the fine threads of silver in his dark hair, could smell the combination of smooth tobacco and spice that clung to him.

“Testify against Shepherd, the Laskins, and their associates,” he said, holding my gaze. “Help bring their reign of terror and lawlessness to an end. In exchange, I will personally see to it that you are granted a full pardon. A clean slate. I'll set you up with a new life. Money. A good job. A house. Whatever you can dream of, I can make it a reality.”

He paused, letting the words hang in the air between us like a guillotine blade. I knew what was coming next, could feel it in the icy dread pooling in my gut.

“Or,” Algerone continued, his tone hardening, “you can throw your lot in with the Laskins and rot in a cell right alongside them. The choice is yours.”

I stared at Algerone, my mind reeling from his ultimatum. Betray Shepherd and the others in exchange for a cushy new life, or stand by them and face the consequences. It was the kind of choice that could break a man, that could haunt him for the rest of his days, no matter which path he chose.

Memories of my time with Shepherd and his alters flashed through my mind. The night we first met at The Playground. Keres’s desperate confession at the factory. Bryce’s easy smile. Dex’s excitement as he ran around the apartment in his dinosaur pajamas. The long nights spent talking, sharing pieces of ourselves we'd never dared show anyone else. The bone-deep knowledge that no matter what, he would always have my back, just as I would always have his.

Shepherd was more than just my friend, more than just my lover. He was my fucking soulmate, the other half of me I hadn't even known was missing until I found him. The thought of turning on him, of stabbing him in the back to save my own skin, made bile rise in my throat.

I lifted my chin, meeting Algerone's cold gaze head-on. “Go fuck yourself,” I said, each word clear and deliberate. “I'm not going to play your sick little game. I won't betray my family.”

“Think about what you’re doing,” Algerone said.

“I have, and I’ve made my choice. Fuck. You.”

Algerone's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek as his dark eyes bored into mine. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Then he sighed, as if irritated.

“Maxime,” he said, his voice clipped. “Please escort Mr. Baker to his new accommodations.”

Maxime tucked his ever-present tablet under his arm and crossed the room. I tensed as he approached, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew I couldn't fight my way out of this, not against Algerone's goons, but that didn't stop the instinct from screaming at me to try.

Maxime's hand clamped down on my shoulder, his grip like iron as he hauled me toward the door. He marched me down the corridor, his shoes echoing on the polished concrete. The walls were the same oppressive gray as the outside, broken only by the occasional steel door set with a small, rectangular window. It was like something out of a horror movie.

He walked me down the hallway, past door after identical door. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, washing everything in a sickly greenish glow, making his skin look waxy and corpse-like.

We stopped abruptly in front of one of the doors, no different from any of the others except for the keypad set into the wall beside it. Maxime punched in a code with his free hand, the beeps echoing loudly in the confined space.

There was a heavy clunk as the lock disengaged, and then Maxime was hauling me through the doorway. I stumbled over the threshold, my heart lodging in my throat as I took in the tiny, bare cell.

Gray concrete walls, a thin mattress on a metal shelf, a toilet and a sink in the corner. No windows. The air was stale and cold, reeking of bleach and hopelessness. As soon as I turned around, the door slammed shut, and the lock engaged with a series of mechanical thunks that echoed with grim finality.

I exhaled slowly and sat down on the thin mattress, ignoring the bite of springs against my spine. Algerone thought he could break me down, isolate me, twist me against the people I cared about. But he didn’t understand what it meant to stand by someone—not out of duty or convenience, but out of loyalty.

He could keep me locked up there for the rest of my life, and I’d still never turn on Shepherd.

And this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Eventually, one of us was going to get free, and when we did, there’d be hell to pay.