“If you don’t know who hired you, how did you get instructions?” I asked. “Is this your first job with them?”
“Through the dark web,” he whimpered. “It requires a special software and the Tor browser.”
I was familiar with the site since I used it for my illegal side of the business, like the drug shipment this asshole intercepted.
“What other jobs have you done for them?”
“This is my first job for them. I needed cash and…” He started crying, and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t know what kind of stupid society that was, but I would have never used a rookie for a job I wanted done. Although, it warranted the question… How was anyone able to get details on my shipment?
“I’ll need your access info,” I barked.
“Please, they’ll kill me,” he begged.
“And what do you think I’ll do to you?” I sneered. “You don’t want me digging into your family, do you?”
He recited his access info, crying like a baby while snot ran down his face, and once Salvatore nodded that he’d written the info down, he was of no use to me anymore.
A shot rang out, echoing through the dark dock.
I flicked a look at Salvatore. The frigid air rolled off him in waves. “Do you believe him?” I asked.
“I’m afraid I do,” he answered, his voice steady. “I’ll see what I can dig up on it.”
I nodded.
“We have to find everything,” I declared. “Before it costs us all we’ve built. Only the two of us know about this.” I fixed my gaze on my best friend. “It doesn’t leave this room until we learn all there is to know about it and why this society is after me.”
EIGHTEEN
VIOLET
The space outside Amara’s room smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender. It was a smell I never quite got used to in hospitals. Lavender was often used to calm patients, and antiseptics were just the scent of every hospital and clinic I ever stepped into. It felt out of place in this villa, but maybe it clung to Amara’s skin after spending so much time in the clinic.
It wasn’t until I got closer that I noticed the two guards, sitting in a little secluded indent on each side of the wall.
“You can’t go in there,” one of them declared, standing to his full height.
I squared my shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m here as her doctor. I need to evaluate the patient.” The two shared an unsure glance and I added, “Call Mr. Costello if you must.”
They exchanged a few words in Greek that I couldn’t understand, then the same guard said, “Very well. We’ll unlock the door and you can go in. But don’t get too close. Understand?”
“Yes.”
I watched the second guard unlock the door, then get back into his seat, his eyes warily on me as he said slowly, “There’s nothing you can do for that one.”
Ignoring them both, I reached for the doorknob, fingers hovering just short of the handle for one moment before I wrapped my fingers around it and cracked it open slowly.
The room was dim despite the sun pressing insistently against the blinds. A narrow strip of light cut across the bed, stopping just short of her face. Amara lay still beneath it, one arm loose at her side, the other tucked under her cheek while she slept soundly.
She’s sedated, I realized. It showed in the slackness of her mouth, the unnatural stillness of her chest between deep, slow, and even breaths.
I stepped inside the room, inching cautiously closer to the bed. Her hair had been brushed back, though a few dark strands clung stubbornly to her cheek. Before I realized it, I raised my hand and moved it gently off her face.
She didn’t move.
“Amara,” I murmured softly.
She didn’t respond.
