Page 27 of The Heir
"Alright, we're ready," Dante announces. Roman storms in with a tablet in hand and a murderous look on his face.
"This is from The Furcas," Roman says as he taps on the screen. "Their assistant—Jonas, remember him?—was snatched into a van last night."
Oh, fuck. My heart drops to the floor. I never met the man (or The Furcas, for that matter), but if this means what I think it does….
"Shit," Dante breathes. "Any sign of him?"
Roman clenches his jaw. "That's the next thing. A pair of hands was dropped at The Furcas's door this morning. All surveillance was cut for ten minutes. Here's the entryway, see?"
He presses "play" on the CCTV video. It looks like a classic Deep South wraparound porch with wooden columns. Perfectly manicured grass and shrubbery flank the walkway. In the distance, I can see the grainy outline of cattle panel fencing. It seems The Furcas lives on some kind of ranch? And then the video cuts out, everything going black.
"Did the tablet die?" I muse.
"No." Roman shakes his head and scrubs through the video. The timestamp increases, and ten minutes to the second after it cuts out, the visual returns.Everything is exactly the same, with the exception of a small, red-stained cardboard box carefully placed on the wooden planks of the porch deck.
Oh,fuck. This is allveryreal. Nausea roils in my gut, and a cold sweat breaks out on my brow.
"God, no," Dante whispers.
"This is war." Roman clicks the screen off. "This isn't justusanymore. This is a coordinated attack on the entirety of the Goetic Consortium."
Dante
If anyone in GoCon doubted me before, they would have to believe me now. It's a horrible thought to think, but I am a bit surprised it took the Seraph this long to lash out at anyone besides Melody and me.
The Furcas, though? If I recall, their business dealings were primarily in farmland and beef cattle. Sure, they made some enemies in the farming community, and if you gotthem drunk enough, they'd tell you all about it. But this? Jonas?
"That's not all," Roman sighs. "I don't have footage, not yet, but The Naberius's kennels were vandalized and his prize stud was slaughtered."
"Kennels? Stud? The Seraph is killingdogs?"Melody gasps and wrings the hem of her dress.
"It's a message. No one is safe; nowhere is safe." Roman rubs his temples. "This means we're not just dealing with Ella. The Beacon of Europe is involved. I wouldn't be surprised if the other Beacons are planning attacks as well."
"My god." Melody looks a bit panicked. "Are we… safe here?"
"Yes," Roman assures her confidently. "The Eligos has been in constant contact with me since we arrived. She has another bunker—I'm not supposed to say where—that she is headed to with her top people."
"Good. Good." I rake my hand down my face, calming myself with the scratch of my stubble. I can't believe that a mere ten minutes ago, maybe fifteen, I was buried in my wife for the second time since I got her back.
Since I got her back. The guilt creeps back in, slithering in my organs, taking hold in the anxiety I try desperately to quell. I couldn't keep her safe before, but I'll throw myself in front of Ella's gun if she tries any fuckery. I'llstrangle her myself. I'll die before I see Melody hurt again.
"What does this mean for our plans?" Melody whispers to Roman.
"What plans?" I snap to attention. Roman's brow creases, and his jaw clenches while Melody looks oddly guilty. "What fucking plans?"
"I—you were asleep!" Melody flaps her hands. "You were asleep, and I could hear Roman and Melnyk, and we talked about how I could take down Ella, and we got to a really good place, I thought? And you were so supportive yesterday—or maybe a few days ago, shit, time moves weirdly out here—and I shot the cans of beans, I just… I need to take her out, Dante. I need this."
Fuck. Fuck! I can't do this—she can't do this. Yes, of course she's capable, but fear settles into my bones and digs into my heart with its icy claws. No. No, there's no way. I can't let her. I won't let her. I don't care if I have to beg for her forgiveness for the rest of my life. And it's my own fault for waffling back and forth like this.
"No," I grunt. "No. Didn't you hear anything? Didn't you hear what Roman just said? This is bigger than us, Melody. This is bigger than you. This is an all-out war. I absolutely will not allow you to put yourself in harm's way."
"She isn't bigger than me," my wife growls. Fury contorts her beautiful features, and the cold fear gnawsdeeper into my bones. "I don't give a single fuck who she is. I don't care that she's the Beacon. Don'tyouget it? I don't care!"
"I can't lose you." Tears prickle at my eyelashes. "Melody, my love, I cannot lose you. I lost you once, I barely survived it—youbarely survived it. I won't survive it again."
My wife, my beautiful wife, the love of my godforsaken life, crumbles. She throws her arms around me and lets the tears loose. Roman silently takes his leave, as he should. My wife's body quakes under the pressure of her grief, her anguish, her despair. I can't hold it back. I can't hold myself to this impossible standard of emotionless stoicism. I can't just show my feelings through sex.
I can't.
