17. Hellena

17

HELLENA

S ing's standing by the car when we reach the gate, looking a little irked.

Or maybe that's just his usual dead stare.

"Hella!" A familiar voice shouts behind us, and I spin on my heel just in time to get swept off my feet by tall, tan, and sexy.

"Tell! What are you doing here?"

"Just hanging out with my best bro Sing-a-long. Holy swamp-ass, you stink!" He pulls away enough to look down at my sodden front.

These jeans are totally ruined.

"Thanks, new perfume I'm trying out."

"I'd still hit it," he smirks, slapping my butt with a wet thwack .

Gavin and Tell exchange a shake and a half-hug.

"How'd you know we were here?" I interrupt, since no one seems to want to give me an explanation.

"Pinged Gavin's cell. Saw where you were." Tell shrugs like espionage is an everyday thing.

"And why did you need to find us?" I lead, giving him my best disparaging stare.

"Ah, right. That. Sing, you want to do the honors?"

Tell grins back at him, and Sing raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, exactly! But this time with more detail. Or any. Words. At all," Tell drawls, glancing back at me with a flat expression. "He's been an absolute hoot at bonfire socials and open mic night back at camp."

I cover a snicker at Sing's bored expression, recognizing the subtle signs of his annoyance.

"Is there a point coming?" Gavin rumbles, crossing his arms.

"I guess we'll never know…" I roll my eyes.

Tell loses some of his bluster.

"Marco's here." Sing drops the bomb.

Instantly, cold sweat breaks across my entire body.

"Like here, here, or here, here?" Gavin looks around, then gestures toward town.

"Like he's arriving today."

Fuck.

Super duper fuck.

As in, I won't be there to welcome him.

As in, he'll know I snuck out, probably kill Mannie and Jay, and then throw me back in a dungeon until I'm blathering anything he wants to hear about the Sinful.

"Hella, it's okay. We have a plan."

"I'd love to hear it."

"Sing will fill you in on the way. Gavin?" He smiles grimly and nods toward where we hid the truck.

"Why am I driving?" I stammer, my hands shaking a bit as I take us back to my doom.

"Because. You're in charge."

"Right." Just like I was in charge when Gavin and Tell basically forced me into this car, hid the entrance to the old base, and took off to orchestrate some last-minute hail-Mary plan. "And what exactly did I order you to come with me to do?"

"Precisely what you were doing."

I side-eye him, wondering if he knows.

How much Tell told him. How much he picked up spending the past several days at a camp I know nothing about.

"Weren't you supposed to report back to me on things at Camp Clive?"

Sing sniffs.

Was…

Was that an actual laugh ?!

He catches me gaping at him and glances away, out the window. "That's actually what they call it."

"Of course it is." I chuckle, some of the tension easing out of my vise grip. "Alright. There are a few more stops I wanted to make today. If you don't mind?"

"Like I said."

"I'm in charge."

For now. The minute Marco gets to the mansion, that's all done. Even if he doesn't suspect me of foul play, he's the real boss. And he's likely bringing a fair portion of his army.

I need something to give him.

A show of good faith.

The path is relatively clear on the way to our first destination.

It's not far from the old road to my dad's, or the mansion, actually.

The ritzy apartments look as if they weathered the storm of the flood and the aftermath better than most of town. Probably due to the fact that all of these buildings had security. And most floors are only reachable by elevator or locked stairwells.

Fortunately for me, I picked up another trinket while I was at the house.

Evan's spare key was in one of his pants pockets.

I just had to stomach touching the material that he wore only a few weeks ago, try not to think about the fact that he's probably?—

No.

I won't accept that.

Which is precisely why I wanted to check his apartment. His old office.

There has to be some sign of him somewhere.

Maybe he's lost and left a message. Or…

It's a thin hope, but it's all I have. And being the only person who knew where his main apartment was…

It doesn't hurt to look.

Not to mention that he may also have copies of the documents missing from the safe.

I should have asked Tell and Gavin. But I couldn't exactly bring it up in front of Sing.

Even if I am starting to think that he might be more on my side than I thought.

Only I can't take that step.

Not without some proof that he's not going to go straight back to Marco with anything I tell him. It's bad enough that I'm off galivanting around town without my guards.

One test at a time.

If he doesn't rat me out for sneaking out…

The sprawling living space of the luxury apartment looks forlorn in the daylight. I only ever came here at night. Mood lighting. Mood fighting at the time, too.

Followed by wild, unbridled, mind-blowing sex.

Instead of the swell of any kind of arousal, though, all I feel is hollow at the thought. If Gavin doesn't think he made it…

Dust coats most of the surfaces. Faint, from lack of traffic.

But some of it is disturbed.

Hard to tell how recently. The door wasn't broken, or any of the glass downstairs. Which means it had to have been someone with a key.

"Hellena." Sing's voice cuts through the silence from the study.

Odd. He never calls me that.

Stepping into the well-lit room, I spot what he's discovered. The desk is a mess. The safe on the wall is smashed, broken into.

And there on the chair, the doorman's jacket and hat.

"Guess Quentin hit the jackpot when the town went tits up. Wonder how many other apartments look the same?" I scoff, dropping the uniform back to the chair.

"Anything other than money?" Sing's bland question sparks a memory.

"No. Because that's all Evan kept in this safe."

But it wasn't his only safe. The night of the Ball, he went to get some things for us. Supposedly, everything we would need to leave town. To vanish.

Heading to the bedroom, I keep my focus away from the clean, neatly made king size.

Too many memories.

In the closet, the suits line the walkway, all the way to the back wall, where a mirror fills the space. Even in the dark, I can see that it's been moved.

And I don't have to know the code to the safe to know that only one person would know about it.

Or maybe it's just my imagination playing horrible tricks on me.

"Find what you were looking for?"

I shake my head, passing Sing and heading back the way we came.

He follows closely, watching my back until we reach the car, parked in the dimness of the covered parking area out back.

Evan's office will have to wait for another day.

"Someone has been busy." Marco's voice stops me dead in my tracks.

Turning toward the entrance, I straighten, waiting for him to show himself. Instead, he steps out from behind one of the pillars to my left.

Didn't startle me at all. Nope.

"Sing. Out for a little field trip?"

"We were retrieving some of Miss Michaels's things."

"At a random, upscale apartment in the poshest area of town? Seems a bit out of your price range, Hellena."

"I wanted to see what happened to a friend of mine."

"Just like you wanted to see your old friends for a meeting. See your old lover and send him all over town doing errands for you. See what you could pull off before I got here. I know you've been conspiring with the Block."

"Have I?" I tilt my head, letting a faint smile play over my lips.

"And bribing my men, too."

"They deserve bonuses."

"They deserve to watch me cull you."

"I thought you trusted me."

"I did. I trusted you to be exactly who you are. To come back here and immediately go digging for secrets. Intel."

"That is what I came here for. To get you what you want."

"What I want is for everyone to stop feeding me bullshit and show me some goddamn results. Which apparently, I have to do myself. Tell me everything. Right now. About your father. About the Sinful."

"Marco, I?—"

"Have been spinning your wheels since day one, jerking me around like one of your fuckboys. No. There's only one way I'm getting the truth, apparently." He spins on his heel, waving two fingers over his shoulder.

Grico and Vance flank us from their hiding places.

To his credit, and to my surprise, Sing puts himself in the way, narrowing his eyes at both men in warning.

Grico throws his hands up. "Chill out, stir-fry. We ain't gonna hurt her."

"You're a fucking prick, Grico," I mutter, shaking off his hand as he reaches for me. "I'll go, Sing."

I lock eyes with him for a split second, hoping he catches my meaning. "I'll see you back at camp."

It's the only message I can hope to slip through.

That he'll be able to stay in touch with my friends.

Who am I kidding? I probably gave them to Marco by trading Sing for Gavin.

But that's on Gavin too for suggesting it. I hope he can protect them all.

In the SUV, I stay quiet, waiting to see where they take me.

It's a longer drive because of the debris and washed-out roads. I recognize the area, though.

And I'm not entirely surprised when we pull up to Devonde's old offices, the medical building he used to run his drug operations from.

"Time for another checkup?" I quip, keeping the quaver out of my voice as Vance shoves me through the shattered doorway.

The whole place is a burnt-out husk.

Yet, as we descend the steps into the basement, red backup lights illuminate the rubble strewn halls. The way has seen some traffic.

Despite the lighting, darkness and shadows prevail.

And that slithering terror from my time in solitary rears its head. Especially when I see the door at the end of the hall.

"Please. Can you at least tell me what this is all about, Marco?"

"You know, in all of the dealings I had with Mayor Vanderbelt, my initial conversations with the Block, the Holy Ghosts, hell, even the Herald of the Sinful. Every one of them seemed to think that I would just play along. Like each of them was waiting for the other to show their hand."

He stops right outside the door.

"But you know what? I think there is no treasure. No stockpile. Or if there is, no one knows where it is. They all wanted someone to slip up. Or hoped I would have the sheer manpower to come in and find it for them."

My heart thunders in my chest.

"If there's nothing to find, nothing to have, then why are you still here?" And why can't I keep my mouth shut?

"Because regardless of whether any of the powers have anything to offer me, your mother told me the truth on her deathbed. That it was your father, Damon, who held the strings."

"I told you, his notes are?—"

"Are probably a waste of time." The door opens, creaking loudly in the uncomfortable silence.

Inside, the lab is shoddy, thrown together.

It's the centerpiece that catches my eye, though.

The chair, an old leather upholstered bed, really. Equipped with straps for hands. Feet. Head.

"And if they aren't, and you read them—and I know you read them, Hellena—then you're holding out on me."

Dread drops the bottom out of my stomach, through my feet. Grico drags me forward, and my body reacts all on its own, kicking, fighting, pulling.

But they slam me into the frame.

Buckle the straps.

No. No. No!

"Marco, stop! You can trust me, I swear, I'll tell you whatever you want to know." The words rip out of my lips. Desperate. Fearful.

Because I know what's about to happen.

Panic closes my throat, tightens my chest.

Especially as a filthy white coat with glasses turns toward me, holding up a syringe. Dripping sickly, yellow liquid from the needle.

"Who needs trust when I can just force feed you obedience?"