Page 13 of The Reckoning
“I suppose, as long as no one dies.”
My gaze swings to my identical twin. Arson stands over the unconscious bodies with cold satisfaction, like he’s cataloging their injuries for future reference. A similar satisfaction fills my chest, and all I can think is that sometimes you need to hurt someone just to remember that you still can. One single door leads off the main room, and I know somewhere on the other side is where they’re keeping her.
The door is reinforced steel with an electronic lock pad that’s been flashing red since we arrived.Nothing says I’m hiding something like extra security.I can hear voices, though they’re muffled, on the other side. Adrenaline zips through my veins. We’re so close to having her back, to having her safe. That’s when Arson’s phone rings.
Not the burner he’s been using to coordinate with his backers, butmyphone—the sleek device that has been part of my daily life for years, carrying my contacts, my history, and my digital identity. Arson pulls it out, his face filling with dread. I peek at the screen and see Richard’s contact information. Fuck, this isn’t going to be good.
“Shit,” Arson hisses, staring at the device like it might explode. “What the fuck could he want?”
Drew glances between us, confusion evident. “Who?”
“Richard.”
The phone continues ringing, each tone another second of Lilian being locked away and out of sight.
“Answer it,” I finally say. “You’ve been playing me for months. Why stop now?”
Arson’s gaze cuts me in half, and I know what he’s thinking. This isn’t happenstance. He swipes to accept the call, his voice shifting into familiar patterns as he easily slips back into his impersonation of me.
“Yes, sir,” he says, and the formality makes my skin crawl.
Do I really sound that deferential when I speak to Richard?
I can’t hear Richard’s side of the conversation, but I watch Arson’s expression shift from neutral to concerned to barely controlled anger. Whatever Richard is saying triggers Arson and has me on alert.
“I understand,” Arson continues, voice clipped. “Yes. Of course, no, that won’t be a problem. I’ll be there.” The call ends a second later, and Arson stares down at the phone screen for a beat before looking up at us.
“Emergency board meeting at Hayes headquarters,” he explains, his voice tight. “Now. Apparently, there has been some unexpected movement regarding an acquisition. Richard wants all hands on deck.”
“What convenient timing he has,” Drew mutters, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“Richard doesn’t do coincidences,” I say, the familiar weight of suspicion settling in my gut. “What else did he say?”
Arson’s hesitation confirms my fears. There’s more, something he doesn’t want to share. Something that’s shifted the calculus of this entire situation.
“Nothing worth repeating,” he dismisses, already moving toward the door. “We need to focus on getting Lilian out.”
“Bullshit.” I grab his arm, noting how he tenses at the contact. “I have a right to know. What aren’t you telling me?”
Our eyes meet again, identical faces reflecting identical determination. For a moment, I see past the hatred he’s cultivated over the decades, past the carefully constructed walls of rage and resentment, and what I see makes my heart skip a beat.
Regret.
“He said something about traveling,” Arson admits finally. “That’s not going to happen. I can’t leave right now. Not with...everything going on. I won’t.”
Richard uses vague language like that when he’s maneuvering pieces on his chessboard, as he prepares for some larger play that requires absolute control over his assets, which would include his son.
“Something’s wrong,” I announce, studying Arson’s expression. “Does he suspect something about your behavior?”
“Maybe.” Arson’s jaw tightens. “He doesn’t know I’m free, but he might be picking up on inconsistencies. Things you would do differently.”
“Like what?”
“Like caring about Lilian’s whereabouts. Like missing meetings. Like any of the hundred small things I’ve had to guess on while playing you.” Arson runs a hand through his hair. “If he’s suspicious enough to call an emergency meeting...”
“Then maybe he’s testing you,” I finish, the familiar dread settling in my gut. “Seeing if you’ll respond the way I would.”
Drew shifts nervously. “What happens if you fail the test?”
