Page 54 of The Eagle's Vault

One of the fifty thousand muscles in my body finally unclenched.

We worked in silence for a few moments.

“Nothing personal, but if you took any pictures or recorded anything about our events over the last week, I’m going to have this destroyed.” Jayce held the motherboard gingerly between two fingers.

I nodded. “I don’t think I did, but if you think that’s best?”

She stood and slipped the blue board into her suitcase. “Let’s go find something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Just a quiet meal? No adventure? No danger?”

She blew a raspberry. “I’d never promise anything of the sort.”

“Maybe I should stay—”

“Dude, I’m hungry. No amount of danger gets between me and a good meal.”

Nothing had been quiet since I met these people. Hopefully, dinner would be a first. “Okay, let’s go eat.”

Chapter 21

Declan

Ileanedagainstthecool stone of the half-wall dividing the sidewalk from the drop to the riverside walk, my senses razor-sharp. I clutched my binoculars, sweeping the area below, with Rav mirrored beside me. The cobblestone path next to the river was empty.

“Got anything?” Rav whispered.

“Nothing yet.” I dropped the binoculars for a moment. Moonlight slithered through the leaves above us, shadows chasing each other over the ground. Across the glistening Tiber, Malcolm and Emmett played lookouts from their own hidden station on Tiber Island.

“Same here,” Emmett responded with a stifled groan. He wasn’t fully recovered from his kidnappings and the beatings he’d received, but he’d insisted on joining us.

Rav’s eyes never left the scene. Next to him, our new camera with a telephoto lens stood on a tripod, so he could photograph the man behind Scarlett’s blackmail photos. We hadn’t traveled with one, but Rav wouldn’t let the evening go by without gathering intel. Targeting Scarlett would be the last mistake anyone made.

Over the quiet rush of the river, the buzz of a drone blended with the light breeze. Will was our eye in the sky. “All clear from above. I’ve got a good view of the entire riverside.”

“Stay on it,” I muttered, my pulse throbbing in my temples.

Anxiety was a hard ball in my gut. It had been the right choice to monitor the kidnapper’s exchange, but it was ten past midnight, and no one was there yet. Had Edoardo lied to me again? About Martina? No. Maybe about the location. Or it had been changed and he wouldn’t have any reason to tell us.

In our secluded spot, under the veil of darkness and anticipation, we watched, waited, and prayed. And the night, full of uncertainty and secrets, stretched on.

If something happened—something that required intervention—a long set of wide stairs was a twenty-foot dash away. It would have to be serious for me to help the traitor.

Finally, Edoardo emerged from the shadows of the bridge crossing the river at the western end of the island. His shoulders hunched like they had when we’d handed over the notebook early this morning.

“Got eyes on Edoardo.” I kept my volume down—the earpieces Will had built could pick up a breath. The sight of my old friend, forlorn and desperate, ignited a spark of sympathy. Betrayal aside, no man deserved to see his wife in the hands of wolves.

“He doesn’t look good.” Rav pivoted his body to check the surrounding area. He wasn’t a man of many words, but his sentiment was clear.

“Got movement at the other bridge,” said Malcolm.

Sure enough, three figures emerged from underneath the bridge leading to the island, their faces hidden in the shadows, trailing a smaller one. A woman. My throat felt as though it were stuffed with cotton.

“That’s Martina.” I gripped the binoculars tighter, an uneasy knot building in my stomach. My gaze bounced between the approaching group and the surrounding area and back to Edoardo. My instincts screamed at me, telling me to rush down the stairs and help. But there could be more than the three, hidden somewhere.

“I see them,” said Emmett. “Watch your backs. We don’t know who else is out there.”

The exchange began, a horrible dance under Rome’s moonlight. Edoardo lunged forward, a gun was pointed, Edoardo’s hands flew up. Muted voices. Chatter. A sob from Martina.

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