“You piece of shit,” Travis growls, storming toward him. “You killed all those innocent people in that hotel. You almost killed me.”
Connor sits up slowly, blood streaking down his chin, and lets out a hoarse, smug laugh.
“Well, you were collateral Travis.”
Travis staggers back half a step, like the air has been knocked out of him. His jaw clenches. His expression twists. Anger, disbelief, betrayal all crashing together.
“You’re a fucking coward,” he snaps. “You stood next to me every day and pretended to be my friend.”
“It’s called strategy Travis,” Connor says, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I didn’t need to pretend. You were easy to fool. That’s why they put me there. And I understand how to stay useful.”
His eyes flick between us, smug despite the blood leaking down his chin.
“And it looks like you cheated death. Again.”
He reaches toward the table and grabs a remote. One click, and the flat screen on the wall blinks to life.
News footage. An old mugshot of me fills the screen. Then aerial shots of the Everspring Hotel. First responders dragging out bodies. Police lines. The aftermath.
The headline burns across the bottom in bold red: NATIONWIDE MANHUNT – SUSPECTED MASS KILLER ESCAPES CUSTODY
Connor leans back, smiling through the blood. “You’re public enemy number one, Seth,” he says. “Congratulations.”
I step closer, my boots crunching softly on the pristine floor. The muzzle of my gun finds Connor’s forehead.
“Where is Elliot’s manor?”
His smile returns, smug, bloodied, mocking. “You really think you’re getting Brooke back after the manor? You’ll be lucky if you find her in one piece.”
I tighten my grip on the gun without hesitation and push it harder against his skull. “Where the fuck is it?”
His throat bobs as he swallows. Some of the bravado bleeds out of his eyes.
“No one knows. It’s off-grid. No satellites. No maps. No digital footprint. Only rumor is… it’s somewhere in Oregon. That’s all I’ve ever heard.”
“I’m running out of the little patience I have left,” I snap. “If you don’t get on that fucking computer and find something useful, Victor Voss is going to need a sponge to clean what’s left of your face off these monitors.”
Connor looks up at me. And at that moment, he knows I’m not bluffing. He climbs into the chair without another word.
Travis shoves a chair next to him and leans in. “Open every encrypted directory. Now.”
Connor mutters something under his breath, fingers flying across the keyboard. The monitors light up with code and file structures, hidden servers, dark web comms, payment channels buried behind proxy networks.
Travis jams a USB into the nearest port. “Copy everything.”
Connor rolls his eyes. “You don’t even know what half of this shit is.”
“Keep talking,” Travis snaps, “and I’ll make sure your jaw’s wired shut.”
Connor clicks faster, still trying to posture, but his hands tremble slightly.
Then Travis freezes. Eyes lock on a folder as it opens.
“Stop.”
Travis points at a photo on the screen, his finger trembling slightly.
“That’s Grant.”
