Page 91 of Hell Breaks Loose

The laptops are next. Smashing what’s left of the waterlogged computers is only mildly satisfying and upsetting at the same time. Sinking them into the bottom of the murk, I wade over to the wall, sliding back the panel to reveal the safe. Sealed and sound.

Not that there is a huge trove of info.

Just the journal my father left.

With the extremely vague clues to where the actual Sanctum trove of intel is.

Should I take it? Try to put those pieces together?

“No fucking way. Not yet, anyway.” I sigh, but something makes me punch in the code. Open the door.

To find the damned thing empty.

A sliver of panic runs up my arms and down my back. Who could have taken it?

My mind races back through the night of the flood. Evan and Gavin left to go stop the bombs.

Tell and I ran out without grabbing much of anything.

Ora and Alaya were on crowd control, trying to get back to the Block.

Closing the door, the possibilities of who had the code to the safe leave me stumped. Unless someone came back after. In the weeks since.

I debate asking Gavin as I turn back to head up toward the upstairs bedroom.

I can’t risk any information falling into Marco’s hands. Not my dad’s journal, not any of Evan’s old files.

Getting out of the water is a mixed bag of relief and a new kind of discomfort. Followed by the distraction of seeing my old bedroom. The master, with its ridiculously massive bed that I had such high hopes for…

Stop it.

Not the time.

Still, the ache in my heart distracts me temporarily from the mystery of our missing intel.

Shoving down those emotions, I snatch up my old backpack, stuffing a few odds and ends into it. Finally, I can have a few things I actually want to wear. A couple of favorite T-shirts.

I’m about to leave, to turn my back on the rest of my things that I can’t take, when I see the glint of metal on the nightstand.

Something I completely forgot about.

The crimson red-gold ring we found at my dad’s cabin in an old photo frame.

“Another mystery.” Aside from the clever ring-shaped lock in that same cabin, maybe that’s all it was for.

Slipping it onto my finger, I head back down the steps.

“You okay?” Gavin’s waiting at the bottom, staring up at me.

“Yeah. No. Thanks for waiting.”

“Figured you might need a minute,” he murmurs, smiling sadly.

Our exit is quiet, aside from the sloshing water and the pattern of dripping muck as we tromp down the driveway. I’m still lost in thought, about to ask about the safe, when Gavin grunts, signaling me to stop, to look up.

There’s a car sitting at the main gate.

“Shit,” he growls. “We’ve got company.”

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