Chapter 30

THIRTY

XERO

The next morning, after checking out, I return to the penthouse and remove a panel at the back of a closet, which separates it from the rest of the roof space. Jynxson sits inside with a laptop, its screen providing several viewpoints around the suite.

I spent the rest of yesterday evening working through the islands within the archipelago. There are thirty in total, eight of them currently occupied. We started with those first, with Tyler and his team identifying every possible shooting venue.

Our goal is to disable Father and his entourage, leaving as many of them as possible alive to help us dismantle X-Cite Media and locate the facility of child assassins.I refuse to believe Father just abandoned the boys to concentrate on making snuff. Somehow, the two ventures are connected. It’s only a matter of time before I discover how.

“Any updates?” I ask Jynxson.

He yawns, his gaze still fixed on the screen. “Camila’s flight just landed. She’s in a rental car, tailing the padre’s taxi.”

“Give me a visual.”

He swivels the computer, bringing up her dashboard camera feed. On screen, a yellow cab navigates a winding highway set between rolling hills.

“Camila, report,” I say.

“He threw up once on the flight and already burst into tears twice. He’s going to need some help walking into this evening’s mixer.”

“How about a miniature C4 charge in the rectum?” Jynxson asks.

She scoffs. “Dr. Dixon already administered that explosive so he wouldn’t fuck up at the airport.”

“Give him a shot of Lorazepam before the event. Any word from Father?”

“Yeah, he’s set up a group chat. Nine people, including him and Thomas.”

Jynxson whistles. “So, he’s already made one and a half million just from selling front-row seats.”

I grind my teeth. Eight people at a quarter million investment each. That’s more than our entire operation earns from a single assassination. “Not to mention the amount he’ll rake in from memberships and from renting the content for a hundred dollars an hour. All without getting his hands dirty.”

As the hotel’s cleaning staff comes in to turn over the penthouse, I patch into a mirror of the reverend’s phone and find the group chat. At the top is a message from Delta, welcoming them to a glimpse into his inner circle. It’s already filled with eager replies about the nature of the shoot, along with commentary on the previous movie starring Lizzie Bath.

Each man asks if they’ll meet Dolly and gushes when they discover she’ll star in the next movie. Their excitement is sickening, yet I force myself to scour through each comment for clues on where Dolly and Delta are keeping Amethyst. It’s crowded by requests for them to be the first to fuck her corpse.

Rage roils in my gut. Father isn’t planning on murdering his wife. He’s using Amethyst as a stand-in for Dolly.

Jynxson reads over my shoulder. “This is some twisted shit.”

Someone in the chat, with the codename of Nemesis, asks how many have already arrived at the Royale. Two other men mention that they’re having brunch and invite the others to join them at the hotel’s restaurant. From the way they chat, I can tell this isn’t their first time observing an X-Cite Media shoot.

I send a message to Tyler and his team to gather the names and addresses of everyone checking into the Royale. After Amethyst is safely back in my possession, I want to hunt down Father’s most ardent supporters.

We spend the rest of the day coordinating operatives waiting at the marina and place small explosives in discrete locations around the penthouse. Our aim is to create the maximum amount of chaos to make it easier to capture Father.

Later, Reverend Thomas checks in, and Camila installs herself in the room next door.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Jynxson says as I’m testing the last explosive.

I straighten. “What?”

He passes me the phone. “There’s a message from Delta, informing the investors that he’s running late due to technical errors on set. Dolly will meet them for an early dinner, and he’ll join as soon as possible.”

“What kind of problems?” I wait for someone to raise the question, but the members are too distracted by the chance to meet Dolly without her usual chaperone.

“So, we’re going to be stuck in that roof space for longer?” Jynxson mutters.

“We can’t risk Dolly or the investors warning Delta that we’re coming,” I reply.

At three thirty, the sound of an approaching helicopter makes us both startle. I expected them to arrive in a limousine, but this method of transport makes me wonder if they’re shooting on one of the other islands within the archipelago.

“Camila,” I say into the headset. “Dose him up.”

Jynxson switches his laptop screen to a display of all the monitors we set up around the penthouse. I check the group chat to find that Dolly has entered, telling the investors to join her upstairs at the penthouse at four.

I stare at the screen for the first glimpse of Dolly. A blond man, with hair identical to her companion at the airport, steps through the balcony door.

Fury heats my blood at the reminder that he and his friends put my Amethyst in a straitjacket and trafficked her across the country. I enlarge the image, recognizing him from that graveyard video.

Behind him is a woman who looks identical to my little ghost, from the striking green eyes to the two-toned hair. My heart lurches. The only difference is the taste in clothes. Amethyst would never wear white.

“That’s your girl,” Jynxson mutters.

“That’s Dolly,” I growl.

“I can’t tell the difference.”

She steps into the penthouse and spins around in a circle. The blond follows close behind and wraps his arms around her waist.

“This is gorgeous,” she says and kisses him on the mouth.

“There,” I say. “Amethyst wears black. She likes black decors.”

“She also likes blonds,” Jynxson says.

I flash my teeth.

A black-haired man in his late twenties steps in through the balcony and pauses to take in the penthouse with a low whistle. From the bulge in his leather jacket and the way his beady eyes check out all the exits, I can tell he’s here as security.

The blond man leads Dolly straight toward the wet bar and fills a bucket with ice. She extracts a bottle of champagne from the cooler and places it in the bucket.

“Amethyst recently had a bad experience with champagne,” I mutter, remembering the time I had to save her from that book fair bastard’s limo. “And she prefers vodka.”

“We won’t be able to make any moves until Delta arrives anyway,” Jynxson replies, still not sounding convinced that Dolly is Amethyst’s twin. “Once we capture him, we can sort out who’s who.”

There’s a knock on the door, and the black-haired man crosses the space to let in a stream of room service staff pushing in trolleys of food. They park the buffet at the side of the room, along with several bottles of wine and an assortment of drinks.

The black-haired man hands the staff tips before escorting them to the door. As soon as it shuts, Dolly strides up to him with two glasses.

“Seth, I want you watching my back. Intervene if any of those assholes get too close.”

The black-haired man turns to Dolly and frowns. “But Delta said?—”

“Delta isn’t coming,” she snaps.

Eyes widening, I lock gazes with Jynxson.

“I’m his wife, which means I own fifty percent of X-Cite Media, which means I get to choose who I fuck.”

The blond wraps an arm around her shoulder. “That’s right. This evening is just a meet and greet. We’ll stay for an hour or two and then take the chopper back to the asylum.”

Asylum?

I jerk forward, this new information hitting like a fist to the gut. We thought they were keeping Amethyst in a studio or a rented house converted for filming.

Jynxson grabs my arm. “This is big.”

“Tyler,” I say into the headset. “Are you listening?”

“Already searching for psychiatric hospitals within Helsing and its surrounding islands,” he replies. “Give me a minute.”

Heart pounding, I listen to their discussion, and piece together that Amethyst escaped her cell and is hiding in a four-story asylum set within acres of grounds. Dolly is tense because Father will use her for tomorrow’s shoot if Amethyst remains uncaptured.

“We need to get out of here,” I say.

Jynxson gives me a tense nod. “Tyler, have you found anything?”

“There’s three,” he replies with a sigh. “Two on Helsing Island. A third on Ravencliff.”

“Which of them is abandoned?”

“One second… Saint Christina was shut down nearly a decade ago. Let me pull up satellite pictures. Yeah. Here it is. A massive Victorian-style property, surrounded by woodland. Very isolated, with a single road leading to its gates.”

I close the laptop and rise. “Let’s go.”

“Should we steal that chopper?” Jynxson asks.

“Delta will get suspicious and know something’s wrong.” I walk around the roof’s perimeter, toward the back of a storage closet that opens into the public hallway.

“Wait. Don’t you at least want to take Dolly as a hostage?” Tyler asks.

That would be the sensible thing to do, but the investors will be the first to complain on their group chat if their starlet is missing. Plus, Father isn’t the type of man to give a shit when his wife is in peril.

That bastard watched me murder his entire family, never once telling me to stop. If I take Dolly, that will only endanger Amethyst.

As I pull on the door, the elevator opens, revealing a quartet of middle-aged men in suits. I draw back, letting them stream out into the hallway toward the penthouse’s entrance.

If we find Amethyst before the end of their soirée, I’m going to detonate those bombs.

“What about Thomas?” Jynxson whispers at my back.

“Camila,” I say into my headset. “Stay back to handle the reverend. He’s going in as planned. If we need any extra information from him, we’ll ask.”

The penthouse doors open, letting in the investors. I slip out into the hallway with Jynxson and take the fire exit.

“Tyler, do you have the asylum’s exact coordinates?” I ask as I charge down the stairs.

There’s no reply.

“Tyler?”

“We’ve lost connection,” Jynxson says.

My heart sinks. Without Tyler and his drones helping to pinpoint Amethyst’s location, our chances of finding her before the shoot are looking bleak.