Page 23

B reathing through the pain, Quinn did her best to block it out. But her thigh throbbed from the scourge. Grendel had only used it on her once, but the spiked balls had torn through her denim and cut her leg up pretty good. It stung like a bitch and she gritted her teeth, determined to pretend like it was nothing more than a scrape.

Grendel lifted the weapon and studied the spikes, now red from her blood. He was a strange combination of sadist and healer. But she had a pretty good feeling he’d probably enjoyed the intense amount of pain Camille and Cross had experienced during the endless skin grafts the “good doctor” had performed.

She let out a silent sigh of relief when he hung the scourge back on the wall. She wasn’t sure how much more she’d be able to take before passing out. When he reached for the thumbscrews, she twisted her hands harder, continuing to loosen the ropes. She still had a long way to go, though, before she’d be able to get free.

“This is a fun one,” Grendel said. “Very old, yet very effective. In case you aren’t familiar with it—”

“I am,” she snapped. The side of his mouth curled up and she was on the verge of telling him to go to hell when the Lady in Black appeared. Camille . When she tossed an empty syringe aside, Quinn sat up straighter.

Who had she just stuck?

Camille motioned to Grendel, but didn’t speak.

While Grendel and Camille left, Quinn worked her wrists hard, trying to get them loose. Ignoring the rope burn, and trying not to think too hard about who Camille’s latest victim was, Quinn fought against her tight restraints.

A moment later, Grendel and Camille dragged an unconscious Braxton into the room and Quinn’s heart plummeted. No. They dropped him down in the empty chair beside her and zip tied his hands together.

Doing her best not to show her emotions and the inner turmoil tearing her apart, Quinn tried to play the situation off. “Oh, good, do I get a break while you torture my ex-husband instead?”

Camille pinned her with a dark look. Other than her eyes and the edges of some scarring, Quinn couldn’t see much more of the woman’s face. She was covered from head to toe, and it was probably for the best after what Cross had told her earlier.

“You can pretend all you want,” Camille said, voice low, just a whisper. Her speech came out slightly slurred and slow, as though she had difficulty articulating certain words. “But you still care for him.”

Instead of trying to deny it, Quinn pressed her lips together. God, she hoped Brax’s team was having better luck than they were. Otherwise, she had a feeling things were about to go from bad to worse.

◆◆◆

Another scream echoed around him and Brax groaned, lifting his head. The first thing he noticed was his zip tied hands. As things came into focus, he saw Quinn beside him, twisting in her chair, making awful mewling sounds as that fucker Grendel turned a screw, making some godawful vise tighten around her thumb.

“Leave her alone!” Brax yelled, lurching up and forward, shoving Grendel with his shoulder. The other man fell on his ass like he’d been taken down by a linebacker on a football field.

“Sit down, Pharaoh!” Cross snapped, lifting a gun.

Great. Somehow Cross had managed to evade Ryland and Saint. At least, that’s what he hoped had happened. Ignoring the weapon, Brax turned his attention to Quinn, whose eyes were bright with unshed tears. He also didn’t miss her bloody thigh and ripped jeans.

“Q…” he murmured, voice strangled. He’d fucked up, and now they were both in trouble. He hoped like hell the rest of his team was doing better.

While Grendel stood up, Brax turned his full wrath on the man.

“Is this how you get your kicks? Torturing women, you sick fuck? Get it off her.” The ferocious look on his face made the doctor remove the thumbscrew contraption and cower behind Cross. “You better fucking hide, because I’m going to shove that thing so far up your ass—”

Cross fired a warning shot, but Brax didn’t flinch. Just met the other man’s gaze head-on, refusing to back down. Like two bulls locking horns. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the Woman in Black, who he assumed was Camille, lurking in the shadows.

“Sit down, Pharaoh,” Cross repeated more firmly.

Nostrils flaring, blood pumping, Brax slowly lowered himself down in the chair beside Quinn. “Care to tell me why you brought Ex Nihilo together, pretended to be our trusted handler, then fucked us over? And why you created The Agency—because it’s clear you’re the asshole in charge—and then turned on all of them?”

“The oldest reason of all—revenge.” Cross extended his hands, showing the scars. “My wife and our children deserved revenge, and I vowed to deliver it.”

Brax frowned. His wife and children? Was he talking about Ryland and Addison? Or—

“Camille is Cross’ daughter,” Quinn explained.

Holy shit. Brax’s attention swung over to Camille, but he couldn’t see her reaction because her face was still covered.

“Don’t you think you should’ve told me I have a half-sister?” Ryland asked from the doorway, his tone low and lethal, his gun trained on his father. “A half-brother, too. Although, he’s dead, thanks to Demon.”

Camille made a pained sound. “Don’t you dare talk about Julien,” she warned, her voice a low, tangled whisper.

Brax looked between the two half-siblings and the tension in the room skyrocketed. It felt like embers flitted through the air and all it would take is one spark to ignite an inferno.

Ryland glanced over, blue eyes narrowing. “That’s all you have to say?”

Camille stared at Ryland, silent and full of defiance.

“What’s wrong, sis?” Ryland goaded. “Acid got your tongue?”

“Watch it, Ryland,” Cross snapped.

“Taking sides, Dad ?” he practically spat. He shook his burnished head. “I can’t believe I used to look up to you.”

“You forced me to choose sides. I wanted you to join us. That was the original plan—you, me, Camille and Julien. We could’ve run The Agency and taken our revenge together. Like a true family. But when we talked on the beach in Mexico, I knew there was no chance of that happening. You were too worried about your precious Harper and team. So, I’m sorry to say, you chose sides—the wrong side—and became a target.”

“What revenge?” Ryland asked, sounding baffled.

While Ryland kept Cross talking and distracted, Brax looked over at Quinn who was working her wrists, slowly loosening them. He gave her an imperceptible nod, encouraging her to keep at it. It would take him a second to snap his zip ties, so he wasn’t worried about them, and his gaze swept the nearby area for a weapon.

“You had to know your mother and I weren’t a good match. I’ve placed a lot of the blame on her extracurricular activities,” Cross said dryly, “but it was more than that.”

Suddenly, Cross had everyone’s attention.

“You always thought I chose my career over you and Addie, but that’s not true. After things fell apart with your mother, they couldn’t be salvaged. Unlike Braxton and Quinn, we were beyond a second chance. And then I met someone else…”

A forlorn look passed over Cross’ face.

“I met Monique on a joint secret op with French forces—a lot like these two, I’m betting.” Cross looked over at Brax and Quinn, then continued, “We fell in love and she confided her true identity to me.”

“Papillon,” Quinn whispered.

“That’s right.”

“We thought you died on a mission ten years ago,” Ryland said between clenched teeth. “If Camille is your daughter, that means…”

His voice trailed off in disgust.

“Yes, I had an affair. I fell in love with Monique and I don’t regret one moment of our time together. After becoming pregnant with the twins, she retired and lived here. Eventually, I made a choice. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I’ll never understand,” Ryland growled. “You lied to me and Addie.”

“I had to. Two years ago, Monique’s true identity was discovered and” —his voice took on an ominous sound— “I blame the ten people upstairs for her abrupt death. They all played a part, coming together to hunt her down and take her life. They considered her a threat, much like the CIA did Quinn. Unfortunately, Monique didn’t escape.”

“How did she die?” Ryland asked.

“A bullet to the head,” Cross stated. “I’ve spent countless hours preparing for this moment, for my revenge, and nothing is going to take it from me. But it wasn’t supposed to happen this way, Ryland. My original intent was to use Ex Nihilo to take out The Agency after their purpose was complete—whether that was for their connections to intel or money. Because as I’m sure you know, reliable intel isn’t free, and billionaires and drug lords have access to an endless supply.”

“You needed to bankroll your mission and you convinced power-hungry people to join your elite group, but they had no idea what you were really up to.”

“Use their money, eliminate them and bring you on board. Other than Dr. Grendel, everyone else was a loose end. Believe it or not, I didn’t want to fight you. I truly wanted you to join us.”

Ryland let out a snort of disbelief. “Why not just sic us on the people upstairs? Why bother with Zaitsev and Novichok?”

“Because he’s honoring Papillon,” Quinn murmured, and Brax looked over at her. So defiant, so beautiful, so damn intelligent.

Cross nodded. “She told me about Novichok—how easy it was to use, if you could get your hands on it. If delivered in the right dosage, no one would suspect a thing. The death would be swift and chalked up to nothing more sinister than a heart attack. It was brilliant.”

“Things didn’t go quite as you planned, though, did they?” Brax asked.

“Nothing ever goes as planned,” Cross snapped. “That’s why you learn to adapt.”

In a lightning-fast move, Cross swung his pistol up, pointing it at Ryland. As father and son faced off, Brax noticed Quinn had pulled one of her wrists free. They exchanged a quick look and didn’t need words, relying on a connection that ran so much more deeply.

Exactly on the same page, Brax gave her a slight nod then launched up from his chair, snapping his zip ties and tackling Cross down to the ground. It had seemed like a pretty good plan until gunshots popped. Brax’s head snapped up as Camille fired a round, hitting Ryland in the chest. His blue eyes widened as he slammed back against the wall and clutched his chest.

He’s wearing a vest , Brax reminded himself. It would hurt like hell, but Rip would be fine.

The thought barely finished crossing his mind when Cross swung his gun hard and hit Brax in the side of his face. At the same time, Camille fired again, this time her bullet hitting Ryland’s shoulder, knocking him off his feet. As he went down hard, Quinn was up, one wrist still tied, and swinging her chair at Grendel.

More gunfire echoed through the room and chaos ensued.

Goddammit . Brax shoved Cross back, attempting to wrestle the gun from his grip, but the man was strong and put up an epic fight.

“Stop!” Camille yelled. “Or she’s dead!”

Brax froze and looked up to see Camille’s weapon an inch from Quinn’s temple. Not far away, Ryland lay on the ground, not moving, his vest soaked in blood. Cross shoved Brax away and stood. Brax didn’t dare make a move. Not yet, anyway.

Grendel was holding his arm where Quinn had rammed him with the chair and it looked broken. Good.

Camille turned her attention to the doctor. “Finish them off, doctor,” she sneered in that strange whispered slur, “and have fun. My father and I have guests waiting.”

Cross was looking down at Ryland then jerked his attention to Grendel. “Patience, Camille. Let’s finish here first.”

Camille pushed Quinn back down into the wobbly chair as Cross grabbed Brax, shoved the gun’s barrel against his head and forced him over to the guillotine.

“On your knees, Pharaoh,” he ordered, grabbing Brax’s shoulder and driving him down to the ground.

Brax’s knees hit the floor hard, but he ignored the shot of pain and watched Grendel gleefully grab a two-liter container, setting it on the floor beside Quinn. Brax clenched his teeth, already fairly certain what was inside.

“You’re going to know the effects of acid in just a minute,” Camille told Quinn, slowly removing her balaclava and revealing what looked like some kind of morbid Halloween mask. Both of her ears were gone, her nose was sunken in. No eyebrows and very little hair remained.

Jesus, no. Brax tightened his hands into fists. He wouldn’t let them dump the acid on Quinn. No fucking way he’d let her end up like the horrific-looking monster who should’ve died that night at the plating company.

The horrible scars on Camille’s face ran deep, and the acid had left discolored pits in her skin with visible irregularities and distortions in its texture. Her skin looked tight, its movement severely limited, and there were craters where the acid had burned especially deep.

“Laser resurfacing and surgical reconstruction can only do so much,” Camille said. “Just don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Brax frowned, not understanding what she meant.

“When I fell into that vat,” Camille continued, “I screamed.”

She opened her mouth to reveal what was left of her destroyed tongue and teeth. It was like something out of a horror movie. First-class special effects that deserved an award.

“I recommend keeping your mouth closed,” she finished.

Quinn leapt up, but Grendel and Camille forced her back down into the chair. Brax had never felt so helpless in his entire life as Cross’ pistol dug into his temple. Quinn’s panicked eyes found his, and his heart sank. All he’d ever wanted to do was protect people, and now he couldn’t even help the woman he loved. Because as hard as he’d tried to forget her, to resist her, to stop loving her, he simply couldn’t.

She was his everything, and the realization overwhelmed him.

It can’t end like this , he thought desperately.

“Q,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry. I believe in you and I love you…I always did.”

“Brax…” Tears filled her pretty sage eyes. Beside her, Grendel picked up the container and began twisting off the cap.

“Enough!” Cross forced Brax’s head down, quickly securing his neck in the pillory.

Clutching onto the edges of the wooden frame, Brax pulled in what he assumed would be his last breath before the angled blade came slicing down.