Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Asher had been in a lot of situations that felt wrong. Situations where things didn't add up, where that sixth sense told him to walk away or run. He'd lived on his instincts since he was all of four years old, an expert on reading people, reading the room.

Driving up to the property and in through the gates made Asher feel ill.

Don't come. Don't do it.

That's what Yunho had said before he was cut off.

Asher could still hear the muted thud of an obvious punch and Yunho's resulting groan.

Of course Asher would come.

Yunho could be pissed at him all he damn liked, Asher didn't care. Because Asher was pissed at him. He was more than pissed. He was really fucking angry.

And anger was a better emotion to cling to right now than betrayal.

Betrayal was a dangerous thing.

It kept very close company with goodbyes, and as tempted as Asher was to take Harry and leave Yunho and Lucas behind, he just couldn't.

Not for their history. Not for all the years they'd worked together, relied on each other, and saved each other's lives. Not because Yunho was like an older brother to Asher. Not because they were two lone wolves who found each other when the rest of the world had abandoned them.

The only reason Asher was going in to save Yunho was for answers.

Answers about who Asher really was and why Yunho had kept that from him.

And why the fuck there was a file in that damn secure server about Harry. Not just Harry either. About his work, spanning a decade, about his time in the military, about operatives just like him.

The Milvus files.

Why Harry wasn't the only one, and why it was still active.

Asher had said nothing to Harry about this. He needed answers before busting open a door Harry had only just managed to close.

That fucking court case with Clive Parrish that was still all over the news, that had cratered out the Australian special forces and brought the entire military and its operations into question.

Every case, every agent, every national security issue for the last decade was now under scrutiny, all while Parrish rotted in a jail cell somewhere awaiting trial.

Asher needed answers and for that, he needed Yunho alive.

If Asher didn't like one of Yunho's answers, if Yunho had hurt or used Harry in any way, he'd hand deliver Yunho back to North Korea himself.

And if Lucas was actually MI6, Asher couldn't guess.

He was definitely English. He'd been a construction project manager when Yunho was building his house on the island. He and Yunho had hit it off, and when the house was complete, Lucas quit his job and stayed.

He cared for Yunho. He loved him, Asher was sure of it. Granted, Asher didn't have much experience with what love should look like, but Lucas adored Yunho. He worshipped him.

Was he too perfect for him? Was their whole meeting a set-up by the British government?

Asher didn't know what to think about anything anymore.

He felt sick.

"I don't like this," Harry whispered as they drove in.

The property itself was quite rural. A long dirt driveway led up to a huge industrial-style shed. There were black 4WDs parked to the side, security cameras everywhere, and no sooner had they got halfway down the drive, a black SUV appeared behind them. And when they pulled up near the huge open roller doors, four men came out to greet them.

Wearing stoic, grim expressions, in black army gear from head to foot, armed with AK-74 assault rifles.

"Welcoming committee?" Harry asked.

"I'm sorry for bringing you into this," Asher murmured. God, how his heart was aching...

"Are you kidding?" Harry said with a smile. "I wouldn't be anywhere else right now. With you is all I need."

"Together, right? "

"Always."

Two of the armed men opened their doors while the other two pointed their guns at them and ordered them out of the Jeep. One of them barked at them to put their hands up. "They'd like us to put our hands up," Asher relayed in English for Harry.

They got out of the Jeep, nice and slow. They were patted down, their guns and knives removed.

Predictable.

While one guy was on his knees before Harry, feeling around his boots and calves, Harry smirked at Asher. "Do you think while he's down there...?"

The one with the gun stepped closer. "Shut the fuck up."

Asher sighed. He had no idea how Harry could be joking right now. But then the guy with the gun sneered at him and lowered his gun, and before Asher could blink, Harry took his gun, shot him in the neck, then shot the other guy who was supposed to be aiming at them. In that split second of surprise, Asher disarmed the other guy, and before the fourth and last guy could even move, Harry had his gun pointed at the idiot's head. "Don't even fucking blink," Harry growled.

"A little bit of warning would have been nice," Asher said.

"I didn't know I was going to do that until the first guy got into my reach zone," Harry said. Then he spoke to the now-pale unarmed idiot. "First rule of combat. Don't get in my reach zone."

"Well, now the back-up welcoming party's gonna be here any second," Asher said flatly.

"If they wanted us dead, we'd be dead already. The fact they didn't kill us in the Jeep means they want us alive." He shrugged. "Where is everybody, anyway?"

Asher nodded to inside the shed. "There's a bunker door in here."

"You've been here before?"

Asher gave a nod as a swarm of guys came bursting out of the darkness, but they also came from both sides of the shed. They were outnumbered now and surrounded.

They had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. If one of them opened fire, they would die right where they stood. Asher knew it, and from Harry's mumbled, "Fuck," he knew it too.

"Put the guns on the ground," one of the masked men ordered.

Goddammit.

Asher did as he was told, and for a brief moment, Asher wondered if Harry was about to send a spray of bullets into the men. He seethed, growled at the closest guy, then reluctantly put his gun down and his hands up.

A tall figure came out of the darkness then. Smiling, smug.

He looked older than his forty-something years, but Asher knew that face. It still haunted his dreams. Radovic. He clapped his hands and held his arms out as if greeting a long-lost relative. "Stranac," he said. "It is you."

Harry growled and his fists clenched, but two guys moved closer, directly aiming their guns at his head.

"It's okay," Asher said to Harry, urging him to stay calm.

"Yes, it's okay," Radovic said with his slimy smile. "We are old friends. We go way back, don't we, stranac." Then he looked at the three dead men. "What have we here? You killed three of my men. "

"I slipped," Harry said flatly.

Radovic stared at him, his expression now cold and calculating, in a way that Asher did not like one bit. But then he turned to the fourth guy who Harry didn't kill. Radovic took a pistol from the back of his waistband and shot him, the back of his head turning to red mist.

Fucking hell.

"I don't tolerate incompetence," Radovic said, and the words sent a chill through Asher.

Those words had been uttered countless times throughout Asher's childhood. From their instructors, their trainers, their abusers, and as they got a little older, from Radovic himself. When he was put in charge of the younger boys... of Asher and Daris.

Radovic waved his hands at the bodies and ordered some men to get rid of the mess before he smiled at Asher and gave a pointed nod to Harry. "I did tell you to come alone. Still defying orders, I see?"

Asher stared at him. "Where's Yunho?"

Radovic stared at him and his cold eyes and slimy smile never faltered. "So impatient. And," he said cheerfully, "I saw your cameo at the press conference earlier." He sighed as if it was a small inconvenience he now had to deal with. "It's made some people rather unhappy with you. Which is a shame, because I was hoping our little reunion would have been a happy one."

Asher hated this overly cheerful demeanour he portrayed, because it was usually followed swiftly with cruelty. He knew it was coming...

Radovic's smile died and his eyes hardened, and he gestured towards the inside of the shed. "Walk."

With at least fifteen assault weapons pointed directly at them, it wasn't like they had much choice .

They went inside, and it was just as Asher remembered. The huge industrial sized shed housed goods and machinery, a black van, and a bunker door.

Asher knew where they were going, and he dreaded it.

My god, how he hated this place.

As a kid, when he was forced down into bunkers. And now he was being forced down again.

Of all the fucking places he was likely to die, why did it have to be here?

Asher hesitated at the door, and Radovic laughed. "Oh, don't be scared, stranac. It's had a considerable upgrade since you were here last."

A few of the armed men went down first, then Harry, but not before glaring at Radovic as he went. The stairs leading down were small and narrow, the hum of yellowed lights overhead familiar and as haunting as Asher remembered.

The stairs were so narrow, Harry barely fit. He had to duck his head and turn his shoulders. Asher put his hand on Harry's back, needing to touch him this one last time.

When they stepped into the room at the bottom, Asher could see that it had been updated, indeed.

When he'd last been down here, at all of eight years old, it was cold dirt floors, rooms with dark corners, and a dank and cloying smell that clung to the back of his throat.

He'd had nightmares for years about this place. About what had happened down here...

This main room wasn't any bigger—half a basketball court, maybe—but now the floors were concrete, there was proper lighting and ventilation, and desks with computers and screens. It was a control room.

There was a hall at the end with smaller rooms either side. Asher could see doors now, where once they'd been no more than cave alcoves.

He'd slept down here a few times, in the dirt. In the dark.

Pitch blackness.

Time passes differently when you can't even see your own hand in front of your face.

God, how Asher hated it down here back then.

Like he hated it now.

He and Harry stood, surrounded by men with their guns pointed at them. AK-74s and... was that an AK-12? Well, that just added insult to injury. That he would die down here, in this place, by Radovic and a Russian fucking gun. The weapon of choice of the Russian special forces.

So fucking typical.

Radovic came to stand in front of them. "Stranac," he said. Then he laughed. "My god, you hated that name."

"Hated a lot of things about my time here," Asher replied.

"Aw," he said. "Don't be like that. It wasn't all bad."

Asher wasn't even going to reply to that.

"I'm surprised you're still here," Asher said instead. "After all these years. Tell me, is Deli? still alive? Are you still his favourite?" Asher smiled at him. "Still sit in his lap?"

Radovic gnashed his teeth like the fucking animal he was. "You'll do well to remember your place," he said, ice cold.

"Must have been so hard for you," Asher pushed. "Wanting the favour of Barta but never being good enough. Settling for Deli? must have been so demeaning. Tell me, is that why you hated me? Because I was the favourite? Or because I was always better than you. Half your age and twice as good."

Radovic snarled and produced a knife, not too unlike Harry's hunting knife. He pressed it under Asher's chin, the tip biting into his skin. Harry growled and went to move, but the armed soldiers all moved in, guns aimed at Harry's head.

"I was told to deliver you alive," Radovic said, sneering at Asher, the blade drew blood under Asher's chin but Asher never so much as blinked. "But he never said anything about seriously fucking injured, so I suggest you shut the fuck up." But then he spared an evil side-eye to Harry. "And he never said anything about him being alive though."

Asher's blood ran cold, his bones felt like ice. "You said you wanted me, so here I am. You got what you wanted. Leave him out of it."

He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. Asher, you should know better than to show your weakness. And I didn't bring him into it. You did, by bringing him here."

This was why Harry should have listened. He should have stayed away.

"And he went and killed three of my men upstairs," Radovic added. "And the three men we sent to Australia. So tell me, Asher, what do you think is a fair trade?"

"Me," Asher said quickly. "Take me, leave him alone."

"Asher, no," Harry said quickly.

"That's so sweet," Radovic said in a singsong voice. "But I already have you," he then said loudly. "Here, in my bunker, after all these years. Just like old times, huh?"

Harry growled at that, and it made Radovic laugh. Like this was his favourite sport .

Asher felt sick. He needed to regain some control and change the focus of conversation. "Where's Yunho? Who gave you the order to keep me alive? Was it Istomin? Is that who you work for?"

Radovic's eyes drew to his, wide and wild. He pointed the knife at Asher. "You don't ask the questions around here. I asked you what was a fair trade and your offer fell short."

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," Asher tried.

Radovic smiled, but then he sighed, long and loud. "I don't think you're quite truly motivated yet. I know your breaking point has a high threshold because I helped shape you. Isn't that right, little stranac?"

Bile rose in Asher's throat.

The things Radovic had done to him. He was just a kid himself, a teenager when Asher was just a boy.

The things he'd done to him down here and in Kosovo, and Turkey.

"I said I'll tell you anything?—"

"I don't take orders from you," Radovic yelled, pointing his knife at Asher's face. "You, I can't touch. As much as it fucking pains me. But I get the feeling it'd hurt you a whole lot more, Asher, if I hurt your boyfriend instead."

Then Radovic swung his knife and lodged it in Harry's side. "Oops, I slipped," he said.

Harry screamed through clenched teeth, and Asher reached for him just before he was grabbed, his hands held behind his back, and a black hood was put over his head.

The last thing Asher saw was Harry slumping to his knees.