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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Consciousness came in waves, each one bringing me closer to a reality I wasn’t sure I wanted to face. The first thing I registered was the smell—musty carpet, hot metal, and the faint copper tang of my own blood. The second was darkness, absolute and suffocating. The third was movement—a nauseating, lurching motion that told me I was in a vehicle.

I was in a trunk.

Terror seized me, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might crack my ribs. My wrists were bound behind my back, plastic cutting into my flesh when I tried to move. My ankles were similarly restrained with zip ties, cinched tight enough to numb my feet.

Just like Derek Rogan .

The thought sent ice through my veins. I’d seen his body, the neat hole in the back of his skull, the calculated execution. I was being taken to die the same way.

The vehicle hit a pothole, and my head slammed against something hard. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and I tasted bile. I tried to orient myself, to think past the panic, but the car swerved sharply, and my stomach revolted. I retched, unable to turn away as vomit splashed back onto my face and neck. The acid burned my nostrils, blending with the coppery smell of blood and intensifying my nausea.

The baby.

A new level of fear gripped me. I wasn’t just fighting for my life anymore. I pressed my cheek against the rough carpeting, trying to steady my breathing. In. Out. Stay calm. Stay alive. For the tiny life depending on me.

The car took another sharp turn, then began to bounce over what felt like gravel. We were leaving paved roads behind. My body slid across the trunk, slamming against the wheel well. Something in the darkness jabbed into my ribs—a tire iron, maybe. I twisted, trying to position it between my bound hands, but another violent swerve sent it sliding away from me.

My head throbbed where I’d been struck. Warm blood trickled down my neck, seeping into the collar of my shirt. I tried to focus on the sounds outside—the crunch of gravel, the whine of the engine, anything that might tell me where we were headed. But the effort sent another spike of pain through my skull, and darkness swallowed me again.

* * *

The next time I opened my eyes, I was no longer moving.

Cold metal pressed against my back, and harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, searing my retinas. I blinked slowly, my vision swimming into focus. I was in a chair—a metal folding chair—and my wrists were still bound behind me, now secured to the back of the seat. My ankles were zip-tied to the chair legs, the plastic cutting deeper as I instinctively tried to move.

A warehouse. Industrial ceilings soared above me, crisscrossed with metal beams and exposed ductwork. Concrete floors stretched in all directions, stained with oil and marked with tire tracks. The vast space was empty except for a few wooden pallets and the chair I was bound to. Tall windows near the ceiling let in angled beams of morning light, illuminating dust motes that danced in the stagnant air.

I recognized the layout—we were in the industrial park off James Madison Parkway, the same area Riley had mentioned when we’d found Rogan’s body. The symmetry wasn’t lost on me.

The place felt abandoned, a hollow shell where no one would hear me scream. I tested my restraints and found no give. Whoever had secured me knew what they were doing.

Think, Jaye. Think.

My head throbbed with each heartbeat, and I could feel dried blood crusted on my neck. My tongue felt swollen, my mouth parched. How long had I been unconscious? Minutes? Hours? Jack would have noticed I was missing by now. He would be looking for me. All I had to do was stay alive until he found me.

A door screeched open somewhere behind me, the sound of metal against concrete setting my teeth on edge. Slow, deliberate footsteps approached, circling until they stopped directly in front of me.

Emmett Parker.

He looked younger in person than in the photos Doug had pulled up—barely nineteen, with a boyish face that still carried traces of adolescent softness. His hair was sandy blond, cut close on the sides but longer on top, falling across his forehead in a way that might have seemed innocent in any other context. He wore jeans and a plain gray T-shirt, so ordinary it was jarring.

But his eyes…God, his eyes. They were pale blue, almost colorless, and utterly void of emotion. They assessed me with clinical detachment, like I was a specimen under glass. When he smiled, the expression never reached those eyes.

“Dr. Graves,” he said, his voice surprisingly deep for someone with such a youthful appearance. “I’m glad you’re awake. Josef said you might not make it. Guess your skull’s thicker than it looks.”

He crouched in front of me, bringing his face level with mine. His breath smelled of mint gum and something metallic, like pennies.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice a rasp.

“Josef?” Emmett shrugged one shoulder. “Setting up a little distraction across town. Fire department and police will be very busy in about twenty minutes.” His lips curved in that empty smile again. “He told me to wait until he gets back before I kill you. A good soldier follows orders.”

The casual way he said it—like he was discussing the weather—made my skin crawl. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my heart was slamming against my ribs.

“You’re the apprentice,” I said. Not a question.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, the first genuine expression I’d seen on his face. “You’ve been doing your homework. I’m impressed.” He stood and walked a slow circle around me, his fingertips trailing across my shoulders. “But then, you’ve been very thorough in your investigation. Too thorough.’

I had to keep him talking. As long as he was talking, I was breathing.

“How did you get involved with New Dawn?” I asked, working to keep my voice steady. “With Paul Prather?”

Emmett paused behind me, and I felt his hands rest on my shoulders. His thumbs pressed into the tender spot where my neck met my skull, not quite hard enough to hurt, but a clear reminder of how vulnerable I was.

“My, my,” he whispered. “Someone knows more than they should. I guess it’s a good thing you’re going to die.”

His thumb pressed into my flesh hard enough to make me whimper, and then he pulled away.

“Paul saved my life,” he said simply, moving back into my field of vision. “I was fourteen, living on the streets after running away from my third foster home. Got caught stealing from the wrong people. They stabbed me and left me for dead in an alley.”

He pulled up his shirt, revealing a jagged scar across his abdomen. The puckered tissue formed a crooked line from his navel to his ribs.

“They didn’t do a very good job,” he continued, dropping his shirt. “Paul found me. He has a gift for finding broken things with potential. He took me to New Dawn, had me patched up, made sure the authorities thought I was dead. The old me ceased to exist, and I became someone new.” His eyes took on a fervent gleam. “Someone better.”

“New Dawn,” I echoed. “The cult.”

His expression hardened. “It’s not a cult. It’s a family. A community. Paul protects us, teaches us. Some of us he trains to protect the others.”

“Like you.”

“Like me,” he agreed, looking pleased that I understood. “I was special. Paul saw it right away. I had the right…temperament. Not everyone’s suited to be a soldier.”

“Is that where you met Chloe?” I asked.

His face softened slightly at the mention of her name. “We were in the same education group. New Dawn is very progressive—we had schools, medical facilities, everything we needed. Chloe was smart. Too smart for her own good.” The momentary softness vanished. “She escaped right after graduation. Hid on a supply ferry. I’d just been selected as an apprentice then.”

“And they sent you after her.”

He grinned. “Not right away. I had to study, train. Learn to shoot, to fight, to blend in. Paul always keeps track of his children, even the ones who try to leave. When I was ready, he told me a secret—he knew exactly where Chloe was.”

Emmett began to pace, his movements fluid and controlled. “She was a traitor, and she hadn’t paid the price to leave. There are laws for traitors.”

“So he sent you to kill her,” I said. “You and Josef.”

“Josef was already in place. Paul had helped Max get a position with Ambassador Vasilios years ago, after Theo had paid the price and freed himself. Chloe meeting Theo—” he laughed, “—that was just good luck. That idiot she was sleeping with connected them.”

“Dickie,” I said, closing my eyes.

“Once Chloe and Theo were together, Paul arranged it so Max went to Theo, and he sent Josef into Nicholas’s security detail. Chloe was good at staying off the grid. But once she hooked up with Theo, it was game over.” He stopped pacing, his expression animated now. “She never questioned how I found her. I made it seem like Theo had helped me just like he’d done with her. Poor kid escaped from a cult trying to make something of himself.” His voice took on a mocking tone. “I made sure I got an invitation to the wedding, pretending to be her friend.”

“And then what?” I prompted when he fell silent, staring into the middle distance.

He snapped back to the present. “Then Josef and I drove to The Mad King and checked in as father and son. Room 314. We were already there when the happy couple arrived. Max was driving them. He knew exactly what time to arrive.

“It wasn’t hard to take a golf cart out where people were playing glow disc golf and leave it there,” Emmett continued. “We’d planted bikes behind some trees earlier in the day. Then we rode to the honeymoon villa and waited for them. The rest is history. We were back playing disc golf within half an hour.”

The clinical way he described the double murder sent chills down my spine.

“Why’d you kill Max if he was one of you?” I asked.

“Because he was getting soft,” he said. “He didn’t care about killing the girl, but he was pretty pissed when he found out Theo was dead.”

“You killed Theo’s dad. And Derek Rogan.”

“All soldiers who fell in battle,” he said, with an odd formality. “Josef handled Max and Nicholas. They were too well trained for an apprentice like me. Nicholas knew too much, of course. He’d been through all this before when he’d paid for Theo’s freedom. It had been my job to drug the wife while Josef made Nicholas eat his gun. I heard she still hasn’t woken up. Maybe I gave her too much.”

A flash of pride crossed his face. “But I did pull the trigger on Rogan. He would’ve tried to stop us from killing Nicholas if we hadn’t tranqued him and tied him up.”

“You shot him in his car. Execution style.”

“Clean. Efficient.” He mimed a gun with his fingers, pointing at my forehead. “Just like you’ll be.”

“You made mistakes,” I said, desperate to keep him talking. “You left your gun behind at the honeymoon murder scene. Your fingerprints were all over it.” And then I don’t know why I said what I did, but I opened my mouth anyway. “Cory Maybury. Isn’t that your name?”

The change was instantaneous. His face contorted with rage, and he backhanded me so hard my head snapped to the side. Stars exploded across my vision, and I tasted blood.

“Don’t call me that!” he screamed, looming over me. “That name is dead! I am Emmett Parker! I am a soldier of New Dawn!”

I spat blood onto the concrete floor. “That name is in the system now. Your juvenile record. The FBI knows who you are.”

His hands closed around my throat, fingers digging into my windpipe. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“I know Paul Prather is using you,” I choked out, vision darkening at the edges. “You’re just a tool to him. Expendable.”

He released my throat, and I gasped for air, lungs burning.

“You’re lying,” he said, but uncertainty flickered behind his eyes. “Paul chose me. He saw my potential.”

“He saw a vulnerable kid he could manipulate,” I said, each word scraping my raw throat. “Do you think you’re the first soldier he’s sent to die for him?”

“Shut up!” he roared, drawing a pistol from the back of his waistband. He pressed the barrel against my forehead, the metal cold against my skin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I was scared spitless. But I had nothing to lose. I could see death in his eyes. “I know the New Dawn compound has moved,” I pressed on, feeling the gun tremble against my skull. “I know Paul left the country after the FBI started closing in. He abandoned his followers, Emmett. He abandoned you.”

Fury blazed in his eyes. “You’re lying!”

“He’s on his island somewhere, safe and comfortable, while you’re here doing his dirty work. When was the last time you actually spoke to him? Not to Josef, not to some intermediary. To Paul himself?”

Doubt crept across his face, just for an instant. Then it hardened into resolve.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice flat again. “Orders are orders.”

The gun pressed harder against my forehead, and I closed my eyes, thinking of Jack, of our baby, of all the things I would never see.

And then the gates of hell opened up and all I could do was pray for mercy.

“Drop the weapon! Police!”

The shouts echoed through the warehouse, followed by the crash of doors being breached. Red laser sights danced across Emmett’s chest as officers swarmed in from multiple entrances, weapons drawn.

“Drop it now! Hands in the air!”

For a terrible moment, I thought he might pull the trigger anyway. His finger twitched on the guard. Then, with mechanical precision, he set the gun on the floor and raised his hands above his head.

“On your knees! Hands behind your head!”

Emmett complied, his face a blank mask as officers tackled him to the ground, securing his wrists with handcuffs. More police flooded into the warehouse, checking corners, clearing the space.

And then Jack was there, rushing to my side, his face a storm of relief and anguish.

“Jaye,” he breathed, kneeling in front of me. His hands trembled as he cut through the zip ties. “Are you hurt? Oh, God. Look at you.”

“I think I’m okay,” I whispered, falling forward into his arms as my restraints gave way. “How did you find me?”

“Your watch,” he said, holding me like he’d never let go. “Doug tracked your heart rate spike and location. They’d left your phone at the funeral home, but didn’t see your watch. We already had Josef in custody—caught him trying to set a fire at the community center. We had your approximate location, but we wouldn’t have made it in time if we’d had to search all these warehouses. Josef gave up Emmett’s location in exchange for consideration.”

Relief washed over me in a dizzying wave. It was over. We were safe.

Over Jack’s shoulder, I watched as officers led Emmett away. He walked with his head high, that empty smile playing at his lips. As he reached the door, he turned to look at me one last time.

“He’ll find you,” he called, his voice ringing with certainty. “Paul never forgets his children.”

Jack’s arms tightened around me. “We’ve got them both now. The FBI is taking over the New Dawn case. They’ll find Prather. And those two killers are off the streets.”

The adrenaline that had kept me going suddenly drained away, leaving me hollow and trembling. The room began to spin, darkness creeping in from the edges of my vision.

“Jack,” I mumbled, my voice sounding far away even to my own ears. “I don’t feel…”

The last thing I heard was Jack calling my name, his voice tight with fear as I slipped into darkness once more.