31. Hunter

THIRTY-ONE

HUNTER

I t didn't take long for Misha to summon Leo and me, probably annoyed that we didn't let his guys take any of the evidence gathered on Isla Cara.

I only got a day with Winter and August before I had to deal with this fuckery. This fuckery being discovering my father's corpse, being chased and shot at on the highway, and fighting with Winter.

Although I'm not sure our disagreement can be classified as a fight. After all, I made a decision that's in the best interest of our family. Winter continues to present unreasonable alternatives.

I lift a crate, wedging it next to its twin in the bulletproof Suburban. In all, we recovered only a few items from Isla Cara. Cabinets full of papers, disks, and tapes are packed in ten neat, medium-sized boxes.

"When you come back, I would like to show you the latest video from the RC helicopters national convention," August says once I re-enter the foyer. The SUV idles in the circle drive with Leo in the passenger seat.

"Of course," I tell him. "Any reason why you want me to watch? "

August rocks and makes a rapid throat-clearing sound. "I would like to work toward going next year. Competing, maybe." He drops his tablet so it thunks against his hip as it hangs from the strap.

August has an unnatural talent at RC helicopters. Not only is he a wiz at flying them, he's also innovative at the retrofitting he comes up with.

"Whatever you want, I'll help you achieve it." It's quick, but a smile flashes across his face.

"Okay." With that simple reply, August runs back toward his game room.

I lift my gaze to the top of the stairs, wishing I could summon the other person I really want to see without having to seek her out.

I'm trying to keep everyone safe the best way I know how…and it fucks with my head that I don't know much.

I stand in the foyer long enough for Leo to lay on the horn. Looking over my shoulder to where he leans out the window from the passenger seat, I give him the middle finger through the open entryway.

"Hurry the fuck up," Leo snipes.

"Yeah, I'm coming," I yell back. I grab my phone, pull up the messaging app, and hover my thumb over the last text string.

I sent her a text last night before going to bed and this morning when I woke up. I sent them, rather than talking with her in person, because Winter kicked me out of my own bedroom.

Whatever it takes to keep you safe, Sunbeam, I'll do it.

I send her one more message.

I love you. Completely. Transcendentally.

I stare at the screen as the notification turns from "sent" to " delivered." She doesn't reply, even though a moment later, the notice changes to "read."

Leo honks the horn again.

Gritting my teeth and shoving aside the unsettled feeling in my chest, I head to the car and leave Amelia Manor behind.

Leo is silent as he flips his phone in his hand for most of the forty-minute drive.

"I can hear you thinking from over here," I say, gripping the steering wheel tight.

"I got an interesting text today," he says. I wait for him to fill in the rest. He doesn't. Instead, he pulls out his phone and brings up the message.

Each Threats Ignited

Venues Canon

Heir

"What the fuck kinda Dr.Seuss riddle is that?" I whip my eyes back to the road.

"Fuck if I know. Couldn't track who sent it either."

I contemplate the message.

"You know, I got a message too. It was a few weeks after we got back. I had Max look into it, but he couldn't trace it." I rub my upper lip with my thumb, thinking about the words.

"Wonderful. I have all the warm fuzzies now," Leo adds, sarcasm thick in his voice.

"What are the common variables, Leo? Because from where I'm sitting, there's a lot behind my father's death."

Leo rolls his head on his neck.

"Fuck," I mutter.

"This is beyond your father and his fucked-up games, H. This is way beyond that."

I press my foot on the accelerator, edging us over ninety on the two-lane road .

"I believe you."

When we reach the gates of Misha's compound, his guards wave us in as soon as they note our car. No extended search or pat down.

"This is fucking weird," Leo mutters.

"Agreed."

We roll to a stop in front of the main house, and seven of Misha's men come to unload the evidence as four other cars housing our detail pull in behind us.

"Friends," Misha says jovially. "I'm glad for your safe return. Come, let's have a drink in my office."

Pocketing my keys, I keep my hands loose at my sides as we follow Misha back into his mansion. Besides the men milling around, there's no one else here.

"Luna?" I ask Misha's back.

"She is painting fruit bowls and such right now. It's a new hobby," Misha says with amusement. I scan his features for any hint of deception or malice.

He's eerily calm. "Your men can make themselves comfortable, no? Da, they can get something to eat and drink in the kitchen. We'll be back," Misha says.

Our guys spread out across Misha's foyer, a few heading toward the kitchen, but most setting up at strategic locations.

Two stand outside Misha's office, respecting the pakhan enough to not enter uninvited.

Leo and I follow Misha into his office. The boxes string along a long table, and a handful of Misha's guards rip through them.

Their movements are precise and focused. They search past the pictures of horrible acts of torture, tossing the images aside as if they're nothing.

Leo and I stand off to the side with our backs to the wall as Misha goes from box to box, looking at each of his guards as they get to the bottom of their respective crates. When he reaches the final one, Misha dismisses his men with an unreadable look.

The last one shuts the door.

Misha gestures to the seats, instructing us without words to sit. Neither Leo nor I move.

"You already know we didn't find the book or whatever you're looking for." Leo's voice is low, deadly calm.

Misha regards us for a moment before dropping his hands. A split second later, the convivial smile is back on his face.

"Drink?" he says.

When we remain silent, Misha lets out a humored puff of air and slowly sits in his wingback chair. With his legs spread wide, he is the picture of nonchalance.

"We're friends here, no?" Misha asks as he picks up the glass of brown liquor he must have poured before our arrival.

"You tell me," I grind out.

He tilts his head to the side. "Of course, my friend. You have, after all, saved my beloved Luna's life."

He lifts the glass, his throat moving as he takes a gulp.

I wouldn't have noticed if I weren't in a hypervigilant mood. Ice runs through my brain at the disbelief, but that feeling turns into a bolt of white-hot fury.

Misha looks down to place his glass on the side table, and I take that moment of distraction. I sniff, and Leo takes it as the signal it is.

I whip my gun out from behind my back, Leo following suit. In a blink, we both point our weapons at Misha.

Misha, the pakhan of the Ukrainian Mafiya, doesn't even flinch or draw a weapon.

He stares at us with a sardonic look on his face.

"How do you Americans say? What's crawled up your asshole?" He leans further back in his seat as if Leo and I wouldn't hesitate to unload our clips into him.

"The eye," I spit out .

"The eye?" he says back, drawling the word with a patronizing lilt of mock confusion.

"Don't play fucking stupid, Misha." I blow a bullet into the shelf behind him, whizzing past his head and the crude tattoo behind his ear.

The same tattoo I saw on Uvalde's body. The same mark that my father and Morris Winthrope wore.

It's small, and if he hadn't turned his head to the side, if his blonde hair weren't positioned so I could see the brand, I would have missed it. But I've been staring at the same symbol for the past forty-eight hours, so I can't help but notice it.

Misha only blinks in response to the gunfire.

"What do you think you know?" Misha asks casually.

That's the thing. I don't know shit. All I know is that this eye has popped up too many fucking times, and it's important .

"Stop playing games, Hroshko," I say, biting off every word.

"You stop playing games. Where is the book?" he growls.

" What book? We gave you everything that was on Isla Cara. All you need to rule the roost. You'll be a wealthy man who can own any politician and member of any monarchy you want. You've sent me on a trip to Death Island, but you won't even tell me what for or why. And yes, I get to ask why ."

I walk up to him, gun steady, even though my anger is quickly morphing into rage.

"It's too damn convenient. You show up right as the FDA blocks Panacea. You show up at my home with information about my abducted girl, all as a setup to make us your bitch . But you and I both know there's much more going on. So you're going to tell me every fucking thing."

Just then, the doors fly open and seven guards, including the three that shadowed us on Isla Cara, stream into the room.

Misha stares at me hard before he slowly begins to clap. "Little Hunter Brigham finally found his balls."

He gives his guards a dismissive look, waving them away as if nothing about this bothers him. But I won't allow him to think I'm insignificant. The guards follow their boss's unspoken command and exit the study, but not before giving Leo and me a threatening look.

I won't allow him to underestimate me.

His arrogance brings fury to my mouth. Sharp and metallic.

I shoot the leg of the chair Misha sits on.

Misha hisses. "Calm down, Hunter."

"Don't tell me to calm down, motherfucker."

An exasperated grin twists Misha's lips.

"You'll feel like an idiot when I tell you what's going on," he says in a sing-song voice.

The air thickens as Leo adjusts his stance beside me, his steady two-fisted grip a silent acknowledgment of support.

"Let me be the judge of that," I growl. My hold on my gun tightens.

Misha sighs. "Fine." All humor drops from his face.

"You are well aware of your father's dealings and the things he does." He nods toward the emptied boxes. "But there's so much more to it than him hosting fuck-fests on his island."

He stands and raises his glass, finishing the last of his drink. "This," he rasps, pointing to the crude tattoo behind his ear, "is the sign of The Legion. It's a secret society that's actively trying to steal your technology and the organization that will destroy the world rapidly once they have their hands on what they need . "

I want to blink in confusion, but I don't allow myself to. " Uh-huh, and if this secret society is so evil, why the fuck are you wearing their mark?"

His face grows grim.

"I don't have this brand because I want it." There's so much loathing and anger in his words that I almost flinch. He gives my gun a dismissive glance before settling his gaze back on my face. "If you want to know more than that and how I can save your pathetic lives, stop pointing your fucking guns at me."

His eyes are hard, and I try to keep any response to his words off my face.

Secret society.

Stealing our technology.

A bewildered chuckle escapes me. I'm in a goddamn Dan Brown novel.

My head spins as I struggle to process the idea that my father's actions are part of some grand, ominous plan.

Nonetheless, I lower my gun, and Leo does the same.

"Excellent," Misha says with a release of breath. He takes a step, and Leo and I lift our guns in reflex. "Fucking goddamnit, I'm not going to kill you. You both could have been a blood smear on my floor five minutes ago if I wanted to harm you," he spits out.

I try not to nod. He does have a point.

Lowering our weapons, I watch Misha shift to his desk and take his jacket off. Leaning over his desk, he starts to speak as he types on the keyboard.

"I've been tracking you extensively. Both of you. You're both of interest to us for various reasons," Misha says without looking at us.

"Both of us?" Leo speaks up.

"Yes," Misha says, looking up. "Both of you." He holds Leo's gaze for a hard beat before he lowers his head again, clicking the keyboard a few more times.

"You've heard of New World Order? "

"Like the Illuminati and shit?" I ask.

"Eh, sure," he says, waving his hand in the air. "The premise is that the world has fallen into corruption and needs to be rectified and unified to end war, famine, and poverty. It is a nice dream—one happy planet spinning in the Universe."

"Except?" Leo fills in.

"Except the ends do not justify the means when it comes to The Legion." He spins his computer around. On the screen is a rendering of the eye, and fuck if looking at it doesn't make me want to avert my gaze.

"This is the Eye of The Architect. The Architect is the leader of The Legion and is very uncomfortably close to ushering in that New World Order. Except a lot of fucking people are going to die."

My head hurts. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything," Misha says. "Your father was under consideration for the position of Engineer of America. There are seven Engineers from what we can tell, and they are the puppet masters controlling the events of the world. The Architect likes to think they are God. Your father and Morris Winthrope are supposed to be adversaries, as they were up for the same position. Instead, they decided to join forces."

My head spins.

"How very Manifest Destiny of them," Leo says with a rough tone.

"According to our intel, your father was already in the lead to become the next Engineer, but there was a shake-up last year. That's where Morris Winthrope came in. But now Benjamin is dead, and there's a vacancy in The Legion. And if the thought of Benjamin Brigham being in charge was deplorable, Morris Winthrope is much worse."

I blink hard. "Okay," I say dumbly.

"Somewhere, your father has all of the information about The Architect, as well as the secrets that allow them to keep people alive and well for...much longer than any human should be alive. It is thought that the only person to have this information, the secret formulas, is The Architect, but somehow Benjamin Brigham got ahold of it."

I clear my throat. "Wait, what do you mean ‘keep people alive longer?'"

"You think you've created the ultimate panacea? They've had it for decades." Misha's gaze swings to me, and a long-repressed memory comes to my mind.

Darkness. Underground in Isla Cara. A woman on a pedestal being stabbed over and over.

And after each swipe of the blade, she healed.

"One of our plants discovered Benjamin Brigham had this information a year ago, and we believe it to be on Isla Cara. Believed it."

I nod at his words, and I feel Leo shift to lean against the low bar a few steps away from us.

"Why couldn't your plant get it if they knew it was there?" I ask.

"They were compromised. We only found part of their torso floating in the Caribbean," Misha says, spitting out every word.

"Sheikh Farid Al-Mansoori?" Leo's raspy question hangs in the air.

"He's the Engineer of the Middle East."

Leo doesn't move a muscle at this revelation.

"Okay, so my father was about to become the head of the shadow government or some shit. You still haven't told me what that has to do with me."

Misha gives me a hard look. "Your father made a deal with Morris Winthrope. We still don't know the full details, but we know it had to do with the sacrifice of you and your sister."

" My sister? " I growl. Heat radiates from my chest as all this fuckery settles in.

At my side, Leo takes a step toward Misha .

"You need to start saying a lot more words that make sense, Hroshko." Leo's voice is dark, menacing, and his aggression is palpable.

"Yes. You were to have a genetically perfect child with Blair Winthrope, and your sister was to be delivered to The Legion."

"What?" I start to pace, finally putting my gun back into its holster.

My father wanted me to get with Blair and have children with her...for an experiment?

"The accident. Winter's abduction," I grind out.

"They wanted to clear everything that stood in their way."

I stop pacing. "Did you know?" I swallow, but my mouth is dry. I stare right into Misha's eyes. "Did you know that Winter was going to be abducted?"

Misha's moment of silence tells me everything I need to know. I lurch over to him, only to be stopped by Leo. "Tell me why I shouldn't put a bullet in your brain right now. Tell me why we should trust you? You knew she was going to be taken, and you did fuck-all to prevent it."

Leo's tense presence at my side mirrors my outrage.

"Wait, H," Leo interjects, his voice more calm than mine ever could be.

"Don't you fucking get it? This is about more than any one person. This is about the survival of humanity." Misha's voice is low, urgent, and I struggle to wrap my brain around the words.

" Fuck humanity. She was raped repeatedly. Beaten. She was innocent before he took her. Now she's had to kill, and I know that will stay with her forever."

Misha's expression flickers and remorse lands in his eyes, but only for a moment. "I'm very sorry that happened to her. If I could have intervened, I would have. I helped the best way I could. "

His words, with their sincerity, cause me to deflate. I move away from Leo, walking away from them both.

This is too fucking much. I whirl around.

"You keep saying they're going to bring on the Apocalypse or some shit. How? Be specific."

Misha squares his shoulders at my words, returning to his computer.

"We've figured out that it's called Elysium." He motions us to look over his shoulder. When we both move to the side of him at the desk, I try not to choke on vomit.

Pictured are grotesque approximations of humans. People with arms coming from their legs. Faces with no eyes, mouth, or nose. Babies with their heads upside down.

"The fuck is this?" Leo says. He steps away from the computer, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe his mouth. He swallows several times.

"That's the early stages of what they've created. Elysium is their plan to engineer perfect humans that don't get sick, live forever, and have perfect offspring. They are using the same technology to build a type of super soldier. Think super-fast healing, impervious to bullet wounds."

Misha continues, flicking through the images one after another.

"Stop," I say, turning away. I walk back to the sidebar and begin to pour myself a drink. I knock back the finger of whiskey in one shot.

"So they're trying to build a perfect human. That shit looks far from perfect," Leo says.

"Yes," Misha replies. "They've been working on this for decades now, since the sixties. They came up with the cure-all a few decades ago. Cancer, HIV...you ever wonder why celebrities get that shit but stay alive much longer than anyone else would? The Legion. The issue is their cure is post-facto by design, but they've had a breakthrough thanks to you. "

I balk at the statement. "Thanks to me?" I ask in a flat tone.

"Yes. BwP's gene therapy is the missing link they need to pair with their deployment system. They created nanotechnology to disperse microscopic bits of engineered bio-matter into the air. We breathe it in, and just like that, we're all "infected." The Legion can activate the nanotech anytime, and The Undesirables will die in the streets." He snaps his fingers. "Just like that."

Misha's words land like a bomb in the room, dropping the temperature by a dozen degrees.

"So they're going to kill everyone?" Leo pipes up.

"Well, not everyone. That's why they want Hunter and Ella. They've identified several elites that they want to replicate. They'll use their genes to train the nanotech, so The Desirables are spared."

"And The Undesirables are eradicated," Leo concludes.

Misha holds his hands out to his side, his gesture saying, Exactly .

"Well," I say, pouring another shot. "That's one way to solve the global overpopulation problem."

No one laughs. I knock the drink back.

"So what does that make you, then? Robin Hood of the Rapture?" Leo says with a sarcastic lilt that doesn't match the severity of his expression.

"Something like that."

"And what exactly do you want from me? Besides being your errand boy," I say, gesturing to the empty crates.

"To bring you over to our side. You have things we need. You've already given me two of them." He nods his head toward the boxes.

And the other thing...?

"Luna's treatment. You have access to BwP's tech now because it's floating inside your wife."

Misha's smile is more of a grimace .

I don't have a moment to digest that statement before Misha continues talking.

"Once The Legion finishes encoding all the genetic data they need to finalize the tech, they'll deploy their mission."

"Which is?" Leo asks, but Misha doesn't say anything further when the door slams open, flying into the adjacent wall.

" Misha ," Luna sucks in air as if she's run through the entire compound.

"Moya lyubov ." Misha rushes to his red-faced wife.

"There's been a breach at Amelia Manor," she says. Her words ring in my ears until they're quickly replaced with buzzing. I whip my head toward Luna.

"Explain yourself," I rush out.

Luna spares me a momentary glance before turning back to her husband. "We've lost eyes on Amelia Manor," she says.

I begin to vibrate when she mentions my home.

" What? " I snap.

She ignores me, continuing to speak.

"I know Rio is down. He sent the distress signal."

"Rio? My employee, Rio? "

I stomp closer to Luna, and her flinty gaze lands on me before she says a sharp, "Yes," and turns back to her husband.

"Ready the helicopt—" Misha starts.

"Someone better start answering my fucking questions, starting with what is happening at my home and where the fuck my family is!"

My enraged bellow echoes off the expensive ceramic artwork.

Luna sighs shortly, turning and looking at me in a way that's a complete one-eighty from our previous interaction at dinner.

"There's an attack on Amelia Manor," she enunciates as if I were a misbehaving child .

I should have never come here. I should have never left Winter and August alone. I should have ? —

"Hunter, wait."

I'm moving, headed to the door, when Misha's words and hand on my arm stop me. I whirl around, sliding out the gun I'd previously re-holstered and pressing it under his chin. "I don't know who the fuck you are or why you've decided to fuck with me and my family, but I will blow your head off if you don't get out of my way."

August. Ella. Winter. Fuck—I need to get to them.

"Let me help you. You don't know what you're walking into."

Leo puts a hand on my shoulder.

My muscles are seconds away from a full, uncontrollable spasm.

"He's right. If there's this whole secret society gunning for us, we need backup." I let Leo's rational statement spin in my brain.

Misha's cold eyes stare down from his head's tilted position. He doesn't move.

I lower the weapon. "We're out of here in no more than five minutes."

I walk over to Luna, who wears all black with matching tactical pants. "You better bring all the firepower you've got because anyone who is fucking with my family gets mowed down where they stand."