Page 11 of Mayflower

“I’ll get it sorted. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Huh, fast. Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck. You do.”

This is the third aircraft coming and leaving today. The rumor about Maddy and Raven’s kidnapping spread through the resort like a brushfire. Fifteen people from Ayana left Zion in the last four days. I don’t blame them. Ayana is becoming a dangerous place. Anyone with money and connections can buy their way through the world lockdown and choose a safer place to live.

It’s been five days since Raven’s disappearance. We call it “disappearance” because no one wants to see this for what it is. Raven was probably executed. Either in the jungle, where the meeting took place, or he was taken to town so that Butcher could enjoy the show. I hope that they are keeping him alive so they can use him to barter.

I called Butcher as the team and I sat in my office. Butcher didn’t respond. Didn’t answer my texts either when I bluntly asked him what he did with Raven and that I want him back at all cost.

There’s nothing else I can do. Meanwhile, guilt weighs down on me like a giant concrete block. I keep replaying that day in my mind, wondering if I should’ve sent men after Raven despite his orders. Would that have changed things? Would that have caused more casualties? Would that have killed Maddy-Milena? I told her the truth—I promised Raven that, no matter what happens to him, I will keep her safe. And that’s the only thing that keeps me from feeling like a complete piece of shit.

I’m not alone. The rest of the team feels the same. There’s tangible gloom among us when we gather for meetings and the first question is, “Any updates from the IT team?”

Regarding Raven. We all know that, but we stopped saying his name.

We are in my office again, as is the daily routine. Marlow, Bishop, Ortiz, and several senior IT members.

Tsariuk comes on video chat. “I have my guys in town,” he says. “They communicate with me by satellite phone. Said one guy was eliminated.”

“Eliminated?”

“Gone. Butcher is doing the cleaning. He kills men left and right. I will sort that out with Butcher personally one day. But the news is—no news. Unfortunately. No word about Raven. Nothing. Not a single lead. Butcher and his men are hush-hush about what went on in the jungle. No one saw Raven being brought to Port Mrei.”

“But his body was never found,” I say. “What do you do with the body? If that was an execution, why isn’t anyone talking? Bragging? Boasting? No rumors?”

“No. That is a good sign. But… Your guy Skiba is in Port Mrei.”

We all exchange looks, though the news still doesn’t tell us what happened to Raven.

“So, here is the thing. If my guys in Port Mrei cannot get a whiff of Raven, my IT team cannot do anything, either. There is only one way to go about it.”

We stare at him in silence. “And?” I probe.

“We will send an armed team, get some of Butcher’s men, interrogate them.”

Ortiz shakes his head. “We are not sending our men to their deaths.”

“Who said your men?” Tsariuk asks calmly, and we all exchange looks. “I will send my team. Not to their death, Mr. Ortiz, but to do their job. Professionally.”

This is an insult to our security team, but the cocky fucker can do whatever he wants with his.

“You are that invested in Raven?” I know the answer, but I really want this Russian Tony Stark to admit that he is changing his ways.

“My daughter is,” he says dryly. There, I knew it. “What she wants—she gets.”

Hail Milena-Maddy Tsariuk! Atta girl!

“I am flying to Zion,” Tsariuk announces.

The last news comes as no shock but makes everyone in the room acutely aware that things are about to take a whole new direction.

“In two days,” I inform Kat when she comes to my office when the meeting is over and everyone leaves.

She sucks in her lips. I can’t tell if she is nervous or uneasy. Sure, Tsariuk made a deal with Raven and, consequently, me. Sure, his main agenda is to see his daughter. But who is to say he won’t bring men who would seize control over Ayana? If Raven were here, he could have navigated the situation properly. But he isn’t. That trust fund he set up with the lawyer—turned out it was the right precaution.

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