Page 47 of Bound

She and Ryan are already being moved to a secondary secure location in Norway with Mack’s best men, two of Rafe’s people, and enough surveillance to keep even Cass contained. Gregory had the idea to send them. Lucian agreed before Gregory finished speaking.

Ryan thinks they are going on an “inside camping trip” with snacks and movies.

Cass thinks we are all insane.

Lucian thought he could get me to go with them.

I fold my arms. “You promised partnership.”

Lucian turns fully toward me. “You are confusing partnership with idiocy.”

“Carlos wants you frantic. He wants you blind. He wants you making decisions from fear instead of strategy.” I take a breath. “Which you are.”

Blaze points the switchblade of his knife in his hand at the sky. “She’s right.”

Lucian does not look away from me. “Stay out of this.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Blaze says.

Lucian’s expression goes lethal.

“Not helping,” I tell Blaze. Rafe’s tablet chimes. The sound cuts through the room.

Every word dies, and every body in the room goes still.

“From Carlos?” Gregory asks.

Rafe taps once. “Same routing style. Old credential chain. Dead account layered over two false relays.”

Lucian’s voice is ice. “Put it up.”

The screen goes black. Then white text appears.

COME, LUCIAN. TO WHERE THE GATES OPENED INVITING IN HELL.

LET’S SEE WHETHER QUEENS BURN BETTER THAN GHOSTS.

Can’t breathe. No one speaks.

Not even Blaze.

Progress under Cleo’s control. We love to see it.

Rafe zooms in on the message structure. “He wants a reaction.”

“He wants the Village before we even finish reconstruction,” Blaze says.

“He wants Erin,” Lucian snaps. “Which is why after this meeting, she’ll be joining Cass and Ryan.”

“He wants both,” Rafe says.

He left Iceland two days ago, technically. His voice still appears in our lives whenever something dangerous happens, like a Scottish ghost with cheekbones.

On-screen, Bayne lounges somewhere dark and expensive, probably on one of his wee islands, looking both amused and prepared to order someone’s murder before tea. He’s not been able to fully give us up, yet.

Carlos loves his theater. His messages mean many things.

“Rafe,” I say slowly. “Bring up all of Carlos’s typed messages.”