Page 39 of Gabriel

In a way, it reminded me of the property in Venezuela where I’d spent the first five years of my life. I vaguely remembered it, but it was the kind of remote place people vanished in.

I had a horrible feeling that whatever Jet—with or without Santos—was up to, it would end badly for all of us. When my brother made up his mind about something, he rarely held back. Like the time he put the first boy I ever slept with in the hospital for making a joke about my virginity. Jet broke every one of his fingers, then shattered both his legs, just to make a point to never make fun of any girl again.

My phone rang and Elira’s name flashed.

“Hey,” I answered.

“You were supposed to call me,” she reprimanded. “I was worried sick.”

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, weareon someone else’s territory, and you’re my sister. Of course I worry, dammit.”

I smiled. “As we expected, I ran into Santos.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “Although not exactly surprising. We kind of anticipated it.”

“Yeah, we did.”

A heartbeat of silence. “Any signs of Jet??”

“I found his phone.”

My fingers curled around the phone in my pocket.

“And?”

I’d found it in the bag he dumped outside that camp and picked it up knowing it might lead me somewhere. It wasn’t the phone he’d had with him the evening we’d been separated. This one was matte black, unbranded, and heavily encrypted.

“I can’t unlock it.”

“Lucky for us, there’s a good hacker here,” Elira pointed out. It wasn’t unusual that we thought along the same lines. After all, both of us were trained by the same people. “Will you go to him?”

“I don’t have much choice,” I muttered. “Not if we want to unlock it.” I couldn’t decide whether coming to Esteban’s was smart or plain stupid. “Anyhow, I’m here now. I’ll update you on everything when I leave.”

“Sounds good. Good luck.”

Click.The line went dead while I stared ahead. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss and that everything wasn’t as it seemed. Maybe I should just get back to the yacht.

“I’m already here,” I muttered under my breath, eyes darting around the structures looming over me. “I might as well get the information and then I’ll go from there.”

I slipped through the warped side door of the ten-story building, a vertical stack of crumbling apartments, most of them reeking of mildew and despair. Mold climbed the walls like ivy. The stairwell stank of piss, rotting wood, and spilled beer. Every step I took groaned underfoot like a warning.

What the hell was Jet up to? Why couldn’t I shake off the feeling that I was making a mistake? Yet, I kept ignoring the warning churning in my gut.

By the time I hit the third floor, I was high on adrenaline and self-doubt that I blamed on a level of fatigue not even espresso could fix.

I raised my fist to pound on Esteban’s door, then hesitated. If I spooked him, he’d bolt. If I gave him time, he’d start lying. He always did.

So I knocked firmly, only once.

A long pause followed before the door creaked open an inch and a pale face peeked out. His eyes widened, the blue glow of his monitors illuminating the space behind him.

“Amara?” Esteban breathed.

“One and only.” My eyes bounced from him to my right, feeling invisible eyes everywhere. We met at D’Arc. In our world, hacker skills were important, and once I learned of Esteban’s skillset, Jet, Elira, and I occasionally shared his expertise.

“What a surprise. Good one, of course.”