Chapter 67
SIXTY-SEVEN
XERO
Just as we make a breakthrough with the bath, Amethyst’s childhood monster appears and hampers our progress.
She freezes, her eyes turning glassy. I place a hand on her shoulder, and she snaps out of her fugue with a clap of anger. Her fury fills the room, crackling like a live wire. It blazes in her green eyes, burning brighter than the night she attacked me in her sleep.
“Amethyst?” I grip her shoulders, concern tightening my chest, but she shoves me aside with surprising strength.
Fists clenched, she paces, each step radiating barely contained violence. “That bitch is still alive,” she hisses, her voice filled with venom. “I want to go to her house now and cut her into pieces.”
Pain twists inside my gut like a coiled serpent, each movement constricting my breath. I would give my little ghost the world, but Charlotte is a valuable lead. “Amethyst,” I murmur, my voice low. “We can’t rush. She knows the facility’s location.”
She stops, her wild eyes locking onto mine, blazing with rage, desperation, and grief. “She killed my baby brother,” she screams. “Right in front of me.”
Guilt gnaws at my conscience for putting the mission before her immediate revenge. I can’t let that deter us from our goal. Stepping closer, I bear the intensity of her emotions and grasp her by the arms. “You remember the Three Fates Therapeutic Boarding School? That facility might still contain children groomed to become assassins.”
Blinking, she releases tears and stares up at me through glistening eyes. Breathing hard through her parted lips, she whispers, “What?”
“We need to rescue those girls,” I say.
It takes a moment for her to register my words before her defiance crumples into devastation. She collapses against my chest, her body shaking with sobs. “You must hate me for being so selfish.”
I wrap my arms around her back, holding her so tightly that her anguish bleeds into my heart. “I could never hate you.” I punctuate the words with a kiss on her temple. “You’re brave, resilient, and the strongest woman I know.”
We stand together in silence, our hearts beating in sync. I long to assure her we’ll take down our enemies, one by one, but promises only stretch so far. Charlotte is within reach, but capturing her now risks alerting the facility she’s been compromised. I can’t jeopardize Father and the instructors moving the children elsewhere.
“Give me three days,” I murmur into her damp curls. “Three days of tailing her. If she doesn’t lead us to the facility, we’ll raid her home.”
Amethyst pulls back, meeting my gaze with watery eyes. “Promise?”
“I swear it. Let me give Tyler the order.”
She nods.
Turning back to the computer, I send out a string of instructions. Tyler will dig up every piece of information about Charlotte Banks. His team will station devices in her neighborhood in preparation for the raid. The Spring brothers will infiltrate her street and keep an eye on her movements. Jynxson will attach tracking devices to her vehicle.
“Three days,” she repeats.
I inhale deeply, feeling the weight of my promise. “Yes, three days.” I guide her to the kitchenette, hoping to ground her in normality. “Let’s make an early dinner.”
Amethyst sits at the counter in silence. Sometimes, the best medicine is time. I leave her to process the recent influx of memories and the return of her childhood abuser. After finding the right recipe, I open the refrigerator and gather butter, eggs, pancetta, pecorino and parmesan cheese.
“When did you get fresh ingredients?” she asks.
“Our maintenance staff supplies groceries to occupied hide-outs.” I fill a saucepan with water and set it on the stove.
“Did they teach you to cook at the Moirai academy?” she asks.
Chuckling, I extract a knife and slice open the wrappings. “They taught me to follow instructions. After months of cleaning up after their assassinations, recipes are child’s play. Want to help?”
She nods, a tentative smile breaking through the gloom. I slide over the knife and pancetta. “Dice this into small cubes.”
As she works, I grate the cheese, crack the eggs into a bowl, and whisk them until they’re fluffy. Amethyst opens the spaghetti and places it into the boiling water. I add salt to the pasta and black pepper to the eggs.
She crushes the garlic and fries the pancetta without prompting. I glance at the recipe and frown.
“It says two cloves.”
“You’re making carbonara, right?” she asks.
“How did you know?”
“It’s obvious from the ingredients,” she replies with a smirk.
“I could have been making Pasta Alfredo.”
“There’s no cream.” She adds a block of butter to the pancetta without measuring.
“This recipe is ruined,” I mutter, unable to hide a smile.
“It’s going to taste amazing.”
Warmth fills my chest as I grab the plates and set them on the counter. Amethyst is making more progress than I ever expected. For a moment, I’m awestruck by her resilience. Then, reality hits me—being abducted by Father and her sister isn’t her first encounter with trauma, or even her second. This time, though, she’ll face it head-on and retain her memories. She’ll emerge stronger.
“I can’t believe how much we have in common,” she says, her eyes misting.
“Kindred spirits,” I reply, drawing closer.
My heart pounds with unwanted intensity. It’s too early for us to have this kind of moment. It stretches for several heartbeats, charged with desire. Every instinct screams at me to close the distance, to taste her soft lips and make her forget her past, but no amount of kissing can erase the deluge of new memories. They might even set back her progress.
But then she blinks, breaking the spell, and turns back to the stove. “So, tell me about the facility you lived in before the academy.”
Disappointment clogs my throat at the abrupt shift. I swallow hard and push the feeling aside. I tell her about the exercise drills, the bunks, and the other boys. She laughs when I recount the stories of how Jynxson used to get on my nerves, rearranging my possessions until I had to rearrange his face.
“What did the facility look like?” she asks.
“Underground, with fluorescent lights, concrete walls, and a rec room that served gigantic meals. It was in the forest. I only caught glimpses of trees when they transported me to missions.”
Silence stretches, broken only by the sound of bubbling water. I glance up to find her staring.
“What?”
“Do you think it’s the same building?” she asks, her voice tentative.
“It’s possible.” I pick up my phone and scroll to an image of Father with all the instructors and boys and set it on the table. “Do you remember any of them?”
Amethyst expands the image with her fingers and studies each face. “Only Delta. I’m not sure about the rest.”
“Don’t push yourself. We’ll figure out the truth when we get the location from Charlotte.”
She hums.
“Do you want me to bring in Becky?”
“What if it makes Charlotte suspicious?” Her expression hardens, exposing a flicker of rage. “We should wait. Becky was nice, but if she knew the adoption agency was trafficking children, she’ll die like Charlotte.”
I smile, my chest swelling with admiration and pride. “You’ve come a long way from the woman who couldn’t face torture.”
“You’re talking about the human centipede,” she says, her eyes rolling. “When I get hold of Charlotte, there’ll be no silly games. I’ll keep her alive and in constant pain until she’s the one hallucinating.”
My heart flutters. “That’s my girl.”
The next days pass in a blur of sparring, shared meals, and shared baths. Amethyst allows me to massage her back and pepper her neck with kisses. Every night, she wakes up screaming, remembering a new sick method of torture, courtesy of Charlotte. It takes several moments to reassure her she’s safe before she nestles against me and recounts the nightmare.
Tyler’s research on Charlotte is extensive. She took over the adoption agency shortly after Lyle Bishop died. Since then, she’s ostensibly devoted her days to removing children from the streets and putting them in permanent homes.
The team cross-referenced images of adoptees from Charlotte’s database with movie stills from X-Cite media. It’s hard to tell because of the age difference, but Tyler thinks there’s a pipeline from the agency to Father’s facility to dying on camera.
That’s probably what happened with Dolly, except she fought back. Surviving on camera brought her popularity and kept her alive. Instead of directing her rancor where it belongs, her resentment festered and turned toward Amethyst.
I almost understand. Father has a way of brainwashing children until they don’t know what’s right or wrong. At one point, he got me thinking my mother’s death was a mercy killing.But that doesn’t mean I’ll show Dolly clemency.
But the end of the three days, Charlotte doesn’t lead us to the facility, so it’s time to move out.
With Tyler’s help, we cut off the power and approach the building under the cover of darkness. Infiltrating a townhouse the size of Charlotte’s requires more finesse than force. Amethyst is at my side, clad in night-vision goggles and bullet- proof armor. We don’t expect a welcome party, but I won’t put my little ghost at risk.
We enter through a basement conveniently linked to the sewers and make our way through the ground floor. It’s a modest residence for someone who peddles human lives. The Spring brothers reported that she returned from work hours ago and her lights have been off for long enough to assume she’s asleep.
We pass by a study containing a filing cabinet and a computer I itch to explore, but our immediate target is Charlotte.
There’ll be time to come back for the other information after capturing her treacherous carcass.
After ascending the stairs, we head down the hallway to her bedroom. Passages from the diary return to my mind with renewed horror. What kind of operative accepts such a heinous mission? I can’t wait to watch Amethyst slay her demon.
“Stay back,” I whisper into her ear.
She nods, her breath quickening as she grips my hand.
Movement sounds from the other side of the door, and I fling it open. A streak of blonde hair flashes as a petite figure disappears into a closet.
I charge after her with Amethyst on my heels. As the door swings shut behind us, the room fills with the sound of faint clicking. I kick the closet, but it’s reinforced.
“Fuck,” I snarl.
“What is it?” Amethyst asks, her voice rising with alarm.
“She has a panic room.”
Beams of red light cut through the darkness, crisscrossing the entire space. Alarm shoots through my gut. I leap on top of Amethyst to shield her before the room erupts into chaos.
.