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Chapter Thirty-Four

Vivian

I groan as I slowly wake and pain immediately travels throughout my body. A small whimper escapes my lips as I slowly blink my eyes open. My head feels hazy and my mouth feels like it's filled with cotton balls. I look around the room and frown, the walls are all sterile white and I hear the beeping of a machine. I lull my head to the side and my eyes snap wide at the sight of the machines beside me. I try to move my hands so I can push myself up but freeze when I can’t move them. I use my upper body strength to half sit up. I look side to side and begin to panic when I see both my wrists are handcuffed to the railings of the hospital bed I’m on.

I look around the room, it's bare except for the machines and two plastic chairs. I may not have been inside a lot of hospitals but I know something about this is off, this is not a standard sized room. I look down at my legs and my eyes widen further when I see my leg is elevated and resting on some pillows, my other one is covered by a blanket. I brace myself for the pain and attempt to wiggle my toes on my broken leg, the second I do I cry out in agony as pain shoots through me.

Hysteria works its way up my throat. I try to take some calming breaths and reason with myself that this isn’t as bad as it seems. Surely if Thomas and the others made it out of there and had me as a prisoner they wouldn’t have wasted time performing surgery on my leg. Just as I begin to calm myself I hear voices and instantly my gaze flicks toward the closed door. I watch the handle with rapt attention. I inhale through my nose and exhale steadily as I wait with bated breath. When the handle turns, I hold myself still as the door opens. I don’t know what I expected to see but it wasn’t this. My eyes widen and the breath rushes out of me deflating my lungs in the span of a second.

The woman smiles at me as she enters the room, followed by two men in suits who both look like carbon copies of each other—short-cropped, army type haircut and dark eyes that look like they have been to hell and back—but it’s the woman who commands the room. She oozes power and authority, the lady suit she wears only seems to enhance her image.

“Hello, Vivian, how are you feeling?’ she asks in a monotone, it takes a moment for her words to sink in.

“Water,” I croak out. She turns to one of the men who crosses the room again and ducks his head outside. A moment later he closes the door and walks toward me with a capped bottle of water and straw. He unscrews the lid and pops the straw in, then brings it to my lips. I guzzle the cool liquid greedily and don’t stop until I start coughing. He removes the bottle as I flop back against the pillows.

“Now, we have a few questions for you?—”

I cut her off before she can continue. “You’re David’s assistant,” I rasp out. Cornelia smiles but it's not genuine.

“That was my cover,” she says.

“Cover?” I hedge.

She sighs as if this conversation bores her. Fuck her, she can answer my questions before I answer any of hers. “Yes. My cover was Cornelia Gomez, David’s assistant. My real name is Deputy Director Fiona Williams. I was Tracer Adams’—who you know as David—handler.”

Tracer Adams.

Knowing that David wasn’t his real name stings more than him being an undercover agent. Him being a fed isn’t what hurts most, it's the fact he lied to me and didn’t trust me enough with the truth.

I harden my features and glare at the bitch. “You’re full of shit, you weren’t his handler. I know the Director of the FBI and he is one of the Saints. Why don’t you stop wasting both our time and just tell me what the fuck Thomas wants.”

Her brows raise and a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Who said I was FBI?”

“What Deputy Director Williams is trying to say is that only Special Agent Tracer was FBI.” I look at the guy with the mole on his cheek and narrow my eyes. He sighs in annoyance and adds, “We are CIA.”

I reel back in surprise. “But… I made a deal with the feds,” I mutter.

The three of them nod. “Yes, and that deal has been passed onto us as this was our case not theirs,” Fiona says.

“I don’t understand,” I admit.

“Tracer was a fed but the CIA was investigating the Director of the FBI. When you reached out to the head office, they offered you a deal which wasn’t theirs to offer. The CIA has the lead on this case…” She lets her sentence trail off giving me time to process what she means. When it sinks in, I close my eyes as tears prick the backs of them.

I open my eyes and look at her with defeat. “My deal for immunity is off the table, they told me what I wanted to hear so I would flip on the Saints.”

A somber look takes over her face. “Yes.”

Pain lances my chest, I thought I did everything right. I made sure that my loved ones would be safe, they fucking promised me. I turn away from her and stare up at the ceiling resigned to my fate, I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison. I fight back the tears that want to fall as failure courses through me, all of this shit was for fucking nothing.

“How long before I’m moved to the prison?” I force out.

“That depends on you, Mrs. Tempest.” I slowly turn my head back toward her. She nods to both the men and they both leave the room. She doesn’t say another word until the door is closed behind them. “What I am about to tell you is classified information.” I nod stiffly encouraging her to continue. “The Director of the FBI wasn’t our only target in the Saints. Tracer was planted inside the organization years ago when we learned of a gang—for lack of a better word—who were embezzling money. The deeper Tracer got he realized that the gang wasn’t recruiting random people or men of wealth… They were recruiting, politicians, FBI agents, cops and many more high ranking members. Did you know that the President's press secretary is a member of the Saints?” My eyes widen and my jaw unhinges.

“Who?” She shakes her head and taps her nose at my question.

“That is on a need to know basis. There are more members of this society than you are aware of, which is why the feds hindered their deal on Thomas being apprehended alive.”

“Because he’s the only one who knows the full list of members,” I answer, she nods and smiles.

“Tracer had been trying for years to get his hands on that list but was never able to. The information you have provided is great but we need more, we need Thomas to flip and give us the names of the members he has planted all over the world.”

“The world?” I balk.

She sighs and nods. “Yes. The Haven Saints is bigger than you clearly knew, which is why Thomas was doing everything in his power to regain control. Not all members are privy to the vast expanse of The Brotherhood from what we can gather, but the higher ranking members are remaining tight lipped.”

I bristle. “Of course they are because they only care about their money.”

Her eyes narrow and she looks at me with an accusing glare. “Well, I’m glad you brought that up because a lot of the members are refusing to say a word until you return their stolen money.”

I furrow my brow in confusion. “I didn’t take their money,” I defend.

“The day Agent Adams went dark, all accounts linking to the Haven Saints were emptied. We have our best on the job trying to track the location of the millions stolen, but so far… we have nothing. Care to shed some light on that, Mrs. Tempest?”

I swallow and dart my tongue out to moisten my lips but then his words sound out in my mind.

All you set out to do has been done.

David—Tracer, he did it. I fight back the smile and close my eyes, sending up a silent thank you to my friend for finishing what I started. He gave his life for a cause he believed in and I’ll be damned if I tarnish his memory by admitting to anything.

“I have no idea what happened.” Her lips purse at my answer and I can tell she doesn’t believe a word out of my mouth and I couldn’t give a fuck. She can’t prove shit, which is why she is here trying to get a confession out of me.

“Figured you would say that.” I fight not to tense and keep my features impassive. “Here is how this is going to work, you are going to remain in our custody?—”

“You can’t do that!” I shout.

A smug look overcomes her. “Yes, I can, actually. You see, the unit who was sent to extract you and Thomas Valerian doesn’t exist. They are a black ops team that aren’t on the books. No one knows where you are or if you are alive. We brought a few of the members here and the rest we kicked to the feds so they could take the spotlight for the bust.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I snarl.

“It means, the CIA wants the highest ranking members, the feds only want the credit for performing a big bust.”

“This is bullshit, my family won’t stop looking for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure your boyfriends will try but they won’t find you.”

“Fuck. You.”

Her face contorts with anger. “Give us the location of the money and tell us the plans of the Saints and we might be inclined to make another deal.”

I scoff. “I want my original deal.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Then good luck, Fiona. I wish you nothing but all the misery in the world, you heartless bitch.”

“Listen to me, you little shit?—”

“No! You listen to me. Twelve months ago I dethroned Thomas Valerian so my family and friends would be free of his tyranny. I sacrificed everything so they could live a good life. I knew about the FBI being members which was why I was so careful and only dealt with the one person because I didn’t know who I could trust. All I tried to do was take down the Saints and end them so all the families forced to serve them would never have to again. They are a plague and I wanted them exterminated. I just wanted to be free,” I whisper the last part.

“Then why not run with your brother and your boyfriends?” The judgment in which I can hear in her voice when she says boyfriends pisses me off.

“Because I knew Thomas would still come after us unless one of us ruled. Given the rules of The Brotherhood, I was the only one with the strongest claim so I gave up my life and freedom so they could have theirs.”

“Why?”

I sigh. “Because, I was in love with my brother's best friends and wanted them to have a chance at a happy life even if it wasn’t with me. I wanted my best friend to be free. I wanted my mother and brother to not have to worry or constantly look over their shoulders because of the choices my father made.”

“You know about your father?”

I nod. “Yes, my brother still thinks he was a good man but he was just like the rest of them?—”

“You’re wrong.”

“What?”

Fiona leans forward and smiles cunningly. “Your father was the one who appointed Tracer as the keeper of rules. Edmund and Virgil were the only two people inside the Haven Saints who knew Tracer Adams’s true identity.” I cover my mouth with my hand and stare at her with wide eyes, utterly floored at hearing this. “Your father and Virgil were trying to achieve the same goal as you, they wanted freedom but were taken out before they finished what they set out to do. I don’t claim to understand them or what they went through, but Tracer made it clear in his reports that their names were to be cleared if this got out to the press and it has.”

“Oh my God, my family?” I breathe out.

She rolls her eyes. “That part of your deal was honored.” I gape up at her. “Vox Hatchett, Ezekiel Tempest, Hayze Draven, Archer Malik and Nova Quinlin have all been sent back to Crestview Heights University and have full immunity. Your mother and your friends’ parents have not been charged. Shane Draven and Henry Malik have been cleared of all charges as well.”

Tears form in my eyes. “They’re really free? Like for real this time?” I mumble.

She nods. “Yes. All of them have been cleared and their names will not make it to the press, they can all go on and live normal lives.”

“What about… the Filthy Few?”

Her eyes harden. “Who?” she says in a suggestive tone, I clamp my mouth closed and nod.

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it.

This time when she smiles it does reach her eyes. “I’ll keep my word so long as they throw those masks away and never, and I do mean never wear them again or I will have them prosecuted. I’ll make sure they get the fucking book thrown at them, am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t be a wise ass, Vivian,” she snaps.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“Now, you heal up and then you help us or we throw you in a jail that doesn’t exist on any map where you will spend the rest of your days rotting away, where no one will find you.” My brief moment of elation over my guys and Vox being spared is snuffed out.

“What if I don’t have the information you need?” I ask.

“For your sake I hope you do, because there needs to be a fall guy and I assure it won’t be Thomas.” Dread pools in my stomach, when I made the deal with the feds to flip on the Saints, I never thought it would end like this. I just pray that I have the answers she needs so I can be set free to go after my guys if they will still have me.

“Ask me what you want to know. I’ll tell you what I know but I swear, I have no idea what happened to the money from the Saints.”

Lying to the head of the CIA is probably not a good idea, but I'll be damned if I lose everything I worked my ass off to give my guys.