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Hugo glanced at the chaos, his face so pale he looked like a ghost. Streams of water shooting from fire hoses cut through the dust and airborne debris. People were yelling, sirens wailing. “He did all this to kill Alicia.”
“Not just Alicia.” Eric turned away from the Spartan Guard dressed as a baggage handler, who ran toward the chaos. The fleet admiral wiped at the blood on his face, but that only made it worse. Hugo took a knee, opened the first aid kit, and pulled out several wipes, passing them up. “Bombs are blunt instruments. He wanted to take out all of us—anyone who talked to Alicia.”
Lancelot held a trembling Sylvia at his side. He expected she was in shock, but she surprised him by speaking, her voice trembling far less than her body. “That means she knew things he didn’t want us to know.”
Eric nodded approvingly. “And he wanted to take out anyone she might have shared the information with.”
“But we talked to other people,” Lancelot said. “Arthur, Sophia. We could have sent emails, filed reports.”
“And he has to know that,” Eric said grimly. “Which means he probably thought, with me dead, he could hide or suppress the information from the inside.”
Hugo closed the medical kit. “That confirms one of our theories.”
“What theory?” Lancelot asked.
Hugo looked bleak. “He is not only a member, but a powerful member.”
Eric glanced at each of them in turn. “That’s exactly what it means.”
“Sylvia is in danger,” Lancelot said grimly. “Varangian sent Alicia back to kill her. He probably thought I’d kill Alicia in the process.” They’d discussed that at length. “But we didn’t kill her, and she knew enough to be a problem.”
“And he knows she spent nearly an entire day alone with Sylvia,” Eric said.
“Which means while all of us are in danger, Sylvia is probably a primary target.”
Sylvia turned her face into Lancelot’s shoulder. If she were a different woman, weaker, more timid, he might have waited to say what he’d been thinking. But she was strong, and she deserved to know.
Eric glanced around. “We could fake her death, say she died here, but it wouldn’t be enough protection.” He sighed, looking at Sylvia. “Welcome to the Masters’ Admiralty. You are now under house arrest at Triskelion Castle until we catch this fucker. You too, Hugo.”
“Triskelion Castle is bomb-proof?” Sylvia asked. It wasn’t a sarcastic question. It was hopeful.
“As close as we can get it,” Eric said. “Did you see the other car, or what was left of it, near the ambulance?” The question was directed at Lancelot.
He nodded. “Just the frame.”
“Car bomb, driven up to the building. That’s what they did in Rome.” Eric looked at Sylvia. “There’s a wall around Triskelion. You’ll be safer there than you will be elsewhere. And I’m guessing Lancelot will feel better if you two are in the castle.”
“But—” Lancelot started to say.
“I can give you a night together, maybe two,” Eric said softly. “But then your admiral will need you, Lancelot. Hugo and Sylvia will stay with me. The Spartan Guard, what the fuck is left of them, will have locked the place down like the Vatican Secret Archives.”
Hugo’s phone rang. He answered it, frowned, then passed it to Eric. The fleet admiral spoke, barking out orders in that same Scandinavian language he’d been cursing in before. He hung up, pocketing Hugo’s phone. “Apparently, my line is down. That was our escort car.” Eric’s face tightened. “They tried calling Nikolas, Marie, Charlotta, and then me. I’ll save the fun conversation about how they’re not answering because they’re dead for later.”
“Those poor people,” Sylvia breathed. “They were just…we were just talking to Marie. How can they be gone?”
“They blew up,” Eric said.
Sylvia blinked up at him. “Well, yes, I had figured that part out.”
“We’re getting the hell out of here. Stay tight.” Eric motioned for them to follow him.
Lancelot exchanged a grim glance with Hugo, gesturing for him to escort Sylvia, allowing Lancelot to bring up the rear and guard their backs.
Quietly, they followed the fleet admiral into the chaos.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sylvia sat on a tufted chaise lounge in the corner of the castle library, her feet tucked beneath her as she flipped through a copy of The Bell Jar. She’d found the book amongst the hundreds—maybe thousands—filling the shelves in the Triskelion Castle library, and though she’d read it countless times, she reached for it, comfort food for her uneasy mind.
