Page 65 of Sebastian

“Yes, Agent Long has told me about the moments before the explosion. Tell me, Damien Roth, why did you insist on your brother going upstairs to the apartment while you stayed downstairs in the office? It’s quite fortunate for you. Your brother nearly died, yet you walk away without a scratch.”

“I—” Damien stuttered. Damien never stuttered except for extreme circumstances.

This definitely qualified as extreme.

Despite all the pain meds I was on, a headache formed behind my eyes anyway.

We should have seen this coming.

Someone planting an explosive in an apartment under the FBI’s watch was too obvious to be ignored.

Either the FBI had to admit that they had a mole amongst their staff, or they had to find a patsy to take the fall.

If we weren’t careful, they could make my brother that patsy.

Damien was stunned into silence, but I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Typical Fed assholes. I’m not surprised. Although, Gabe, I was actually starting to trust you. Guess I was wrong.”

Gabe still didn’t look at anyone or show any emotion at all. He was a statue in the shape of a man.

We could do nothing as the FBI barreled ahead with their plans to essentially kidnap us for their witness protection program. Damien couldn’t even argue for fear of being framed as a criminal. And I...

Well, I was useless.

If only I could walk, or at least stand up. We could have tried making a run for it like we did before. Damien and I had protected ourselves from David Russo’s goons and corrupt FBI moles in the past. We could do it again.

But not with me in such a condition. Injured and bedridden, I was an anchor keeping my brother chained to the FBI’s will.

For a moment, I considered suggesting that Damien should make a run for it without me, but I knew he’d never go for that idea.

If the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t either.

Director Thornton made his excuses and left the room, leaving Gabe in charge of our relocation. I was transferred to a portable bed that could be wheeled out of the hospital, along with all the supplies and medication I would need.

My brother and I said nothing and just glared at Gabe silently as he directed other FBI agents to get the transport vehicles ready.

Newt, however, did continue to protest until Gabe relented and let him accompany us on the way out.

“To say goodbye,” he claimed.

We made a glum parade, with Gabe leading the way, several FBI agents flanking us on either side, and Newt pushing my bed down the hospital hall.

I’d found another coin and flipped it over and over.

Heads: I’d walk again.

Tails: I’d never walk again.

I wanted to throw that bit of metal at Gabe’s head, but doubted I’d be able to move my arm enough. Being transferred to a more portable bed, then wheeled down the hall, was testing the limits of my pain meds. Everything hurt and even small movements were difficult.

“You’re a real fucker, you know that,” I spat at the back of Gabe’s head.

He didn’t even bother to turn around and look at me. “You can think what you like about me, but you’ll be grateful for our protection when you get out of this alive.”

I laughed so hard I feared I’d snapped another rib.

“Survive? You think we’re surviving this? You’re serving us up for Russo’s people to kill at their leisure. This is a death march to the guillotine.”

“They can try,” Damien growled under his breath. “We’ll see how many of their people I take down along the way.”

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