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The door swings open. As if summoned by my very thoughts, Father walks in, holding a remote. He closes the distance between us and gazes into my eyes as if checking for something within their depths. I can’t help but wonder if he’s searching for traces of the drug.
My pulse quickens to a slow, sluggish beat. I jerk forward against the leather restraints.
“If you don’t release Camila and Amethyst, I’ll kill you,” I manage to spit out, my words still slurred.
He saunters across the room, seeming unfazed by my threat. The sight of him looking so composed is a knife twisting in my chest. Closing the small gap between us, he leans in close, his breath hot against my face. “Is this the beginning of a negotiation, dear boy?”
“Sure,” I say through clenched teeth. “But I want to see my girls first.”
He draws back and snorts. “Predictably weak, just like your mother,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “She was one of my finest assassins, until she grew sentimental and fled with our unborn child.”
My jaw clenches. My blood boils beneath the surface, yet I force my features into a mask of cold restraint. “Taunting me about a woman I never met? If you still remember her after all this time, she must have been your weakness, not mine.”
A flicker of emotion crosses his features before he veils it with indifference. “I hunted your mother down and shot her in the head. You, however, might still prove useful.”
“Where. Are. They?” I snarl.
The door creaks open. Camila stumbles inside, looking dazed but unharmed, followed by Amethyst holding a gun.
Shock and hope surge through my system, crashing like violent waves. My heart lurches against my ribs, racing with disbelief at the sight of my salvation. I jerk forward, straining against my bindings, my eyes wide and searching. My little ghost—has she truly rescued my sister?
Amethyst turns to me and smirks. Then she points her gun at Father.
And fires.
EIGHTY-FIVE
XERO
The bullet lodges into the wall, missing Father by inches. I turn back to Amethyst, expecting her to try again, but she doubles over and laughs.
Just laughs.
Several things are wrong with this scenario. The woman holding the gun has a full head of dark hair, while my little ghost colored the left side of hers green.
Father’s only reaction to her near miss is an indulgent smile. It’s the kind a man makes to a beloved pet. My heart plummets, and all hope that Amethyst is safe shatters like glass.
Father chuckles, the sound cutting like blades through the fragile threads of my sanity. I turn my gaze to Camila, who slumps against the wall in a tank top and a pair of fitted leggings many operatives wear beneath their bullet proof armor. She stares through glassy eyes, oblivious to Dolly and Father.
I don’t know how much time has passed since they hit us with tranquilizer darts, but I can only hope she’s been drugged and not broken.
“Where’s Amethyst?” My voice cracks.
Father’s smile fades. “That girl was a bad influence who kept you from fulfilling your true purpose.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I snarl.
Rage surges through my veins, fighting the effects of the drugs. I jerk forward, trying to break free, but the leather straps around my chest dig into my flesh.
Dolly’s laughter becomes shrill. “Didn’t you tell him?”
“Tell me what?”
“Amethyst had to die,” Father says.
His words land with a blow that knocks all the air from my lungs. I recoil, my chest tightening around my shrinking heart.
“You’re lying,” I say, my mind rejecting the very notion.
