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Drake considered the men for a moment before answering. “They’re called The Purifiers. Hope’s Embrace adopted their beliefs but was never part of the main sect. I don’t subscribe to their beliefs, but their faith has made them the most loyal of soldiers. Now, stop stalling and get to work.”
Fuck. He wasn’t going to get any more answers, was he?
Pierce drew a deep breath and powered up the device. He hated how easily it all came back to him as he ran diagnostics. Tectra-X’s core was intact, but several key components were fried.
He wrote on his notepad and held it up, whistling to get Drake’s attention.
What happened when you fired it the first time?
Drake’s lips pursed as he read the note. “It malfunctioned.”
Pierce growled softly.
No shit. How?
“The first test was... problematic. The device misfired, causing localized tremors that damaged the power supply and fried several circuit boards. It’s supposed to be targeted destruction. It shouldn’t damage itself or anything around it when it fires.”
Exactly the same thing happened when they first tested the prototype in Turkey all those years ago. And the damage now was just as extensive and widespread as it had been then. It was impossible to aim an earthquake, but Drake hadn’t wanted to believe it then, and it was clear he still didn’t want to believe it now. Pierce shook his head in frustration and grabbed the notepad again, scribbling furiously.
It’s not a precision weapon. It never was. It never will be. The seismic waves are too unpredictable and too powerful.There’s no controlling an earthquake once it starts.
He underlined the last sentence for emphasis before holding it up.
Drake’s eyes narrowed as he read the message. “That’s not what you promised when you designed it.”
Pierce’s jaw clenched. He snatched the notepad back and wrote:
I was wrong. I didn’t know then what I know now. Tectra-X is too dangerous. It can’t be fixed because the very concept is flawed.
“I don’t believe that. You’re stalling.”
Pierce shook his head vehemently and gestured to the damaged device, trying to make him see reason. But Drake’s expression only hardened further.
“I’ll make this very simple.” Drake left the room for several minutes. When he returned, he dragged Rhiannon with him. He took a gun from one of his guards and pressed the barrel to her head. “Fix the weapon, or watch your girlfriend die right now.”
Rhiannon’s beautiful eyes streamed with tears, but she didn’t make a sound. By the stubborn tilt of her chin, he knew she refused to give Drake that satisfaction.
Her life… or countless others.
An impossible choice.
But he knew there was really only one choice he could make.
He held up his hands in submission and moved over to the device. He requested the screwdriver again and opened a panel to expose its intricate inner workings. As he peered inside, he subtly palmed the screwdriver, but the meathead caught him and snatched it out of his hand.
Fuck.
But then he spotted the pen and notepad.
He met Rhiannon’s gaze, hoping she read the apology in his eyes. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I love you,” he whispered, the words scraping his throat like shards of glass. But he wasn’t going to kill them without telling her out loud at least once.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back. “Do it.”
Drake realized what was happening was a beat too late. He let go of Rhiannon and lunged forward, but he was too slow.
Pierce spun and stabbed his pen into the volatile heart of his worst mistake.
