

### Betrayal - Shadow War, book 2

By M. Findley

Published by Artistic License Publishing, LLC

Copyright: 2020 by M. Findley. All rights reserved.

This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please buy a copy for yourself. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone living (or dead) is unintentional.

The copyright laws of the United States of America protect this book. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

# Table of Contents

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Authors

Contact Me

Other Works

#  Foreword

Welcome! Welcome!

This year I am trying something new. I am releasing all my eBooks as _Pay What You Think It's Worth_ stories. My goal is to get my book into my reader's hands. The fact you are here warms my heart, and I hope you enjoy my story.

Without further ado, here is Shadow War 2: _Betrayal_.

I started this novel with my then co-author, C. Nault, but before we finished it, other projects came between us and this piece. After several months, and a hiatus from collaborating, I bought the rights to the series from her, and I am now proud to present: _Betrayal_ , book two of the Shadow War series. In it, I made every attempt to stay true to the voice of the first novel, _Innocence_. I hope you'll enjoy this next installment of Rachel, Adam, Zach, and the others, as much as I do.

Please, turn back now if the thought of violent, sexy assassins, bloody deaths, and sizzling hot attraction makes you squeamish. If you are still here, thank you for trying _Betrayal_ , and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Enjoy!

#  Prologue

Abhay glanced at his fellow poker players, making sure to catch each man's gaze, especially the sandy-haired man sitting across from him: Simon Fitzgerald. After tonight, several weeks' worth of careful posturing and subtle maneuvering would end. He'd set the bait, executed the steps for success, and now all Abhay had to do was wait for the Order's _Hashashin_ to fall for Abhay's scheme.

The man to Abhay's left said, "I raise you five."

"Draw one," Simon added.

"Fold," the last man told the table.

Abhay dealt more cards for the round.

While the others checked their hands, Abhay fidgeted with his mobile. Time for his last play of the evening. "I'm out of money," he announced. The three other men grunted, acknowledging his depleted stack of cash. Abhay spun his mobile—one of the decommissioned Progress Communications prototypes—and added, "But, I'm not folding." He made a face and held up his phone. "Would my mobile suffice?"

Greed colored the expressions of the men to each side of Abhay, but Abhay only had eyes for Simon. Would _he_ accept the bet?

"The mobile'll do," Simon acquiesced.

Abhay plunked the mobile down on the pile of money in front of him. "Your cards?" Abhay prompted, needing to finish the hand they played.

"Flush," Simon announced, laying his cards on the table.

Everyone else groaned, and Abhay hid his smile, Simon had won, precisely as he had planned.

"Good game, boys," Simon said as he stood, pocketing the phone and the cash. "See you next week."

Abhay sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Next week," he said with a single nod.

#  Chapter 1

Adam shifted smoothly into form eight of his twenty-four form Tai-Chi routine when Ella entered the training facility from the woman's locker room. She sidled up to him and slipped smoothly into the next Tai-Chis stage as he did. They ended the twenty-four forms in the first position and immediately restarted. As they completed the second pass, Ella raised an eyebrow. Guessing her question, Adam answered, "One more."

Ella nodded once.

When they came to a stop, Ella spoke, "Cooling down or warming up?"

"Cooling."

"Too bad."

"Why?" Adam asked.

Ella grinned in place of an answer, and Adam was moving before his conscious mind identified Ella's attack. Adam smiled as he danced backward.

They circled each other slowly. Adam's thoughts swirled with fond memories as he fought Ella. In the past, she rarely caught him off guard with any of her moves, but she'd been younger then, and he wondered how much she'd learned since their last formal sparring session.

Lightning fast, she dropped her weight low and swept her leg toward his knee. Adam blithely hopped over it, but as he came down, Ella was there with a fist to his gut. He stepped to the side, left hand swinging down, knocking her hand away. Adam followed the block with a punch of his own. He checked the force as he caught Ella in the chin. Her head whipped to the side, and she rubbed her jaw, smiling. "Ow."

Adam dropped his weight into his knees. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Ella replied, mimicking his stance.

As they eyed each other warily, Adam asked, "Are you here as a friend or on orders?"

"Both," she said, feigning a punch followed by a roundhouse kick which caught Adam in the hip before he could prance out of the way. " _Lokhagos_ Parker called."

Adam sighed. If his acting _Lokhagos_ from St. Louis had spoken with Ella, then that meant Adam's formal summons and subsequent trial was imminent.

"Darius has been sent for."

Shifting his weight from side to side, Adam waited for an opening in Ella's guard. "When is he due in Istanbul?"

"Next week. You received your formal summon yet?"

"No," Adam replied, shaking his head and blocking Ella's uppercut. "But _Antipolemarchos_ Valis has reached out to me." Ella frowned. "Polite as ever," Adam added. He sent a kick to Ella's stomach but missed. "He still wants me to take his place, but after what happened..." He trailed off as he dodged a series of punches.

"After Lee's death, you mean?"

Adam nodded and then ducked. "I didn't—don't—want the responsibility," he said, landing a strike to Ella's stomach. She absorbed the energy from his arm and spun out of the way. "It's one thing to learn about some colleagues dying. I can do something about that—but when you're in charge, and something goes wrong..." He paused before continuing, "I didn't fail the others," Adam said, referencing the recently deceased London _Hashashin_ force, "but I failed Lee."

Ella nodded in understanding. She would know, Adam thought, now that she was the Western Europe _Lokhagos_ and in charge of the _Hashashin_ posted in the region. Adam sent a kick to her knees, which Ella evaded with a hop and a roll. As she came to her feet, she said, "It's a lot of responsibility. At the same time, you can't stay a _Hashashin_ your whole life."

"Why not? It worked for my father." _At least it did until his death_ , Adam added silently.

"Only because _Antipolemarchos_ Valis accepted the responsibility in his stead. You know your father was a contender for the position."

And perhaps, if Saif Haddad had accepted the position, he would still be alive right now. Adam shook his head. He would never know.

" _Antipolemarchos_ Valis is going to push hard for you to take on more responsibilities," Ella continued, her fist connected with Adam's chin and his head whipped to the side. "You know he wants to step down within the next five to ten years, and he'll want you ready to take over. It's a high honor." Ella smiled at him, impishly, "I'm not sure I could give you the proper respect, though. Too much history between us. Besides, _Antipolemarchos_ Black sounds," she paused. "Odd coming out of my mouth."

When _Antipolemarchos_ Valis handpicked Adam as his successor, it had caused more than a few fights between Isaac and himself. Adam had never aspired so high. He was content in his current role, whereas Isaac, his older brother, and _Stratigos_ of Western Europe continued to push himself toward his next promotion with every breath he took. But, now that the _Antipolemarchos_ role was out of his reach, well, it annoyed Isaac, not that Adam minded too much. He enjoyed tweaking his brother too much.

"It still has a nicer ring to it than _Antipolemarchos_ Haddad," Adam added with a smile, remembering his and Isaac's last fight about the promotion.

Ella chuckled. "I never understood why you go by Black. Haddad's your true surname after all."

Adam shrugged, not answering. Some things he preferred to keep even from friends like Ella.

Ella shook her head and sighed. "Do you still feel like the position is wrong for you?"

Boy, did he ever. "Yes and no," he replied, falling into a roll to avoid Ella's high kick. He lunged to the side, barely avoiding her stomp, before standing. "If you had asked me this past spring, I would have declined the position it in a heartbeat. But now? Now that Rachel is here, the thought of living in Istanbul, with all the security surrounding the Fortress? Well, it has a certain appeal." Adam ducked her roundhouse and returned swinging. Ella blocked him, but the force of the blow shook his bones and had to have hurt her. Nope, that wouldn't do. Adam straightened and pulled a respectful final spar posture.

"Did you ask her what she would want?" Ella inquired, raising an eyebrow as she lowered her guard and returned the final gesture.

"I'd planned to, but now she's in isolation, and I can't even talk to her. And then, I don't know how she might react. She never..." He trailed off.

"Chose to be recruited?"

"Yes."

"I must admit, Adam, I never expected _you_ to fall for anyone, let alone a civilian. I guess, if anything, I thought you would end up going for an arranged lineage match once the timing was right."

Adam didn't have anything to add, so he shrugged and wandered over to his water bottle, resting on his towel at the wall. He sat. "What can I say? She's nice, friendly, and stubborn enough to put up with my shit."

Ella snorted and joined him. "She seemed to be adjusting well to the Order. Well, at least until the isolation part. Now, she's not eating and is sleeping all day, but I'd expect that for someone in isolation. It's mind-numbingly boring. I've been talking to Isaac about getting her some form of entertainment. As usual, he's obstinate."

"You have?" Adam asked, surprised at Ella's concern for Rachel.

Ella wiped her face as she gave Adam an affirmative grunt.

"It's good to hear that someone else is on her side," Adam said and ran a towel through his sweaty hair. "I fear he wouldn't be such a pillock with anyone else in the Order. I'd like to believe he is above doing this to her out of spite for me, but..."

"No," Ella countered. "Not in spite. Never spite. I think it has more to do with his 'trusting' nature than who she's attracted to." Ella sipped from her water bottle. "Cheer up," she continued. "Dr. Campbell and Jack signed off on her 'programming' already. So now, we only need to wait for Isaac to relent." Ella paused and nudged Adam's shoulder with her own, "Anyway, enough with the friend part."

Adam watched her out of the corner of his eye. "You going to hit me again?"

Ella snorted. "No. I'm pulling you from the current Prescott operation for a side mission. The official word is you're to destroy the coffee shop where the Org murdered Grace and _remove_ Kepa Moreno. His current location is in Santander, Spain."

"On the coast?" Adam clarified, his eyebrows rising in appreciation. "Guess the coffee shop is more profitable than we realized." Adam's grin turned feral. "Not for long, though." It would take Adam two days, three tops, and then he would be back in England.

Ella laughed. "That's the Adam I remember. You love trouble." Turning more serious, she added, "Parker also told me there is talk of assigning you to a new _Lokhagos_."

Adam glared. _Reassignment_?

"There is a high probability the Org will be after you again. Prescott may have failed this time, but that doesn't mean councilor Ridley, or someone else trying to make a name for themselves, won't attempt another strike against you." When Adam continued to keep silent, Ella added, "All I am saying is, think about where you want to go next. Fast track for _Antipolemarchos_ or something else."

And with that, Ella stood and left the room.

#  Chapter 2

Abhay sat on a bench outside the sketchy-looking nursing home with his laptop open. He wanted to check the sound feed from Prototype 5's amplified signal before he went in to visit Mark. So far, Simon, the proud owner of that mobile phone, hadn't been, done, or said anything useful, but Abhay was confident he'd hear something interesting from the surveillance device soon.

It was a guarantee now that it was in the hands of a _Hashashin_.

Closing his laptop, Abhay stowed it in his bag and stood. Once inside the building, he walked to the nurses' station and smiled. "I'm here to see Dendric Scott," Abhay said, using one of Mark's lesser-known aliases.

"Of course, Mr. Jaya," the nurse replied with a smile, using the name Abhay had given the nursing home. "Please sign in."

"And how is my friend today?" Abhay inquired as he scribbled illegibly into the nursing home's attendance ledger. "Is he awake?"

"Yes. Yes, he is."

"Excellent. Same room?"

"Yes. We haven't moved him."

"Great," Abhay replied and pushed away from the station counter.

He'd gone no more than two feet from the desk when the nurse added, "He's lucky to have a friend like you; can you imagine, no one else has come to visit him in all this time?"

Abhay glanced over his shoulder and replied, "It is a shame" before continuing down the hall. A shame for no one, he mused. In actuality, it was good news. Abhay had to keep Mark off both the Order and the Organization's radar, and with Mark's distinctive injuries, it was a race against time before one of the two warring factions found him.

Arriving at Mark's door, Abhay heard the deep timbre of Mark's voice in addition to the higher pitch of a woman responding.

Abhay walked inside the sunlit corner room. His gaze flicked to the TV mounted high on the wall. It was on but muted while the young-looking nurse, Celeste, stood next to Mark. "You are due for more pain medication, Mr. Scott. Do you wish to take it? You should."

"It's Prescott, and no thank you," Mark said, looking past her toward the door. His eyelids widened a bit at spying Abhay in the door frame.

"Very well, Mr. Scott. Call us when you change your mind."

Mark sighed, waving his hand dismissively.

Celeste turned and spied Abhay. "Oh! Good afternoon, Mr. Jaya!"

"Celeste," he replied. "You're looking as lovely as ever. How are you today?"

Celeste blushed. "Good. You?"

"Couldn't be better," Abhay said with a giant smile. "Will, you be much longer? Mr. Scott and I have some catching up to do now that he is finally awake."

She shook her head. Glancing between the two men, Celeste excused herself with a pat to Mark's knee and another reminder to call the nurses' station should his pain grow too intense. Abhay nodded to her as she passed him.

Once Celeste had left, Abhay turned to his rival and smiled benignly. "I hope you're feeling better." He stood in silence while they sized each other up. Once it became clear Mark wouldn't speak, Abhay told him, "You're causing me a heap of trouble, I hope you realize this."

"What are you doing here?" Mark finally growled at him.

"Saving your life." Abhay sneered, "You think you magically arrived here?" After a pause, he continued, "No, of course, you don't." Abhay studied Mark for a moment more, grabbed a chair next to the bed, and sat. In a conspiratorial whisper, he added, "You need to stop correcting the nurses. Your name, until further notice, is Dendric Scott, or Michael Fendrick, or Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, or any other name I choose. Understood?"

Mark's intense glare was his only answer.

"Do you _think_ , for one second, you would be left alive if either the Organization or the Order knew where you were? They've been looking for you all over England: morgues, hospitals, old safe houses. They've started searching nursing homes—just like this one." Abhay paused for effect. "Did you know Moreno is dead? A single knife wound, through the ribs, right to the heart. We both know what that means."

A noise in the hall caught Abhay's attention, and he glanced at it to confirm no one was eavesdropping. Satisfied, he said, "I'm using my own money to keep you alive. The least you can do is appreciate it and go along with my plans."

Mark was quiet for a few moments, before finally asking, "And, what are your plans, exactly?"

"To have you healthy and home again, my dear friend," Abhay replied with a cheeky grin.

"Why do you care?"

Sobering, Abhay replied, "Because one should always help their elders—"

"Cut the crap, Abhay—"

Abhay shook his head and tsked. "It's Amar Jaya here, Mr. Scott. But I'd prefer Mr. Jaya from you."

Mark sputtered in anger.

"Careful, Mr. Scott. You wouldn't want the nurses to check on you, now would you? Put you back into a drugged sleep where you can't hear someone come into your room at night." He paused again for emphasis, "Although, it might be better if you went while sleeping. You don't fear death while dreaming." Abhay smiled in glee at the concern blossoming in Mark's expression. "Ah, have no fear, Mr. Scott. I have ears within the compound, and I am listening. I should know of any action taken against you before it happens."

"How?"

"Let's just say the alloy you helped discover has a few side benefits you didn't know about." Mark's gaze shifted away from his.

"Or, maybe you did know about it," Abhay said, contemplating this confirmation of events. Sitting back in his chair, Abhay rested his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers. "Convenient, isn't it? That alloy. Able to hear the slightest sound from nearly thirty feet away."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hmm. Don't you?" Abhay asked, pushing to his feet, knowing his next words would make Mark capitulate. "Then you are of no use to me, and I'll let the Order know your whereabouts."

Mark sighed. "What do you want?"

Abhay leaned forward, bracing his hands on the rails of Mark's hospital bed, and whispered, "I want the schematics and research notes for the FGRT-334."

"How did you—Jorge! I knew the pillock was selling my research."

"It's a shame you didn't pay him more," Abhay said. "It was laughably easy to buy his loyalty."

"He knows less than you think," Mark replied smugly.

Abhay shrugged. "That may be,"—And he would need to keep that in mind once he regained control of the flash drive the Order had stolen from the Luminations lab. Per his last conversation with Jorge, it contained every blueprint and peer-review the man could put his hands on, but Abhay ceded that it might be missing some crucial information, but as long as the drive contained the schematics to the Frequency Generator Model RT-334, his top bidder would be content—"but regardless of what he knew—"

"Knew?"

"Yes, knew," Abhay answered, and Mark frowned. "Didn't know he was dead, or had you forgotten?" Abhay asked.

"He's dead?"

"Yes," Abhay replied, vividly recalling the blood-splattered lab room showcasing Jorge's unfortunate demise.

"How?" Mark asked, interrupting Abhay's musing. "Black? That tart, Rachel?"

"Maybe," Abhay replied, memorizing the woman's name for future reference. Maybe she was the one who had taken his flash drive. "He'd been shot in the throat and pushed to the corner of the same room where I found you."

Mark snorted and then immediately rubbed his chest where the bandages covered his wounds. "Why _did_ you rescue me?"

Abhay asked himself that very question daily. Technically, his first impulse, upon seeing Mark's prone, bleeding form on the lab floor, had been to leave him there. Unfortunately, once Abhay had determined that the flash drive Jorge had promised wasn't on his corpse or anywhere else in the room, it became crucial to keep Mark alive long enough to extract his research secrets. Secrets which were critical to Abhay's future success and rising income. "Your knowledge."

Mark harrumphed.

Abhay sighed and rubbed his temple. "Look, Mr. Scott, what do you think will happen to you once you get out of here? It's not like you'll ever be able to show your face at the Organization again. They issued the order to kill you on site." When Mark didn't reply immediately with his assurance of cooperation, Abhay added, "I'm your only ally, Mr. Scott. The Council most assuredly doesn't want someone around who continuously draws the Order's attention. They wouldn't shed a tear for you if you died tonight or any other night, for that matter. I suspect they would cheer."

Mark sighed. And after several long beats of silence, he finally nodded. "All right. Can you bring me Liz? If you do, then I'll talk."

"Consider it done," Abhay said as he sat back in his chair.

#  Chapter 3

Blood swirled in the clear water turning it into a surreal Rorschach test.

Was it a rabbit? A unicorn? Or maybe it was a butterfly.

"Munro?"

No, it was a sports car, maybe one like Adam's fancy Audi.

_Adam_?

"Munro?!"

Rachel jerked into awareness and glanced at her door. Simon stood in the threshold. His perpetual glower, firmly in place. "Yes?" she said, acknowledging him.

"Time to go."

_Time to go_? Oh! Her daily trial by doctor or inquisitor had arrived. "Which fun torture is it today? The doctor or the 'chamber'?" she asked.

For a few moments, she thought Simon wouldn't answer, but he finally replied, "Dr. Campbell."

"Oh goodie," she said under her breath as she stood and strode toward the door. After three weeks in solitary confinement, she knew the drill. Simon would let her lead the way to the sterile room down the hall from her prison in the basement of the London safe-house. The room was stark, outfitted with one-way mirrors, and furnished with the stiffest furniture found. Once there, Rachel would sit for hours while being interrogated or psychologically evaluated.

It was the highlight of her day.

Rachel forced her head high as she left her room and stalked past the stairs. She gazed longingly at them. They would take her up to the main floor of the compound, where life was a bit more hospitable. Instead, she turned toward the— _Baum. Baum. Baum—Chamber of certain death_. Rachel giggled as she imagined Lord Jareth of _The Labyrinth_ and his goblin minions running around her feet as she wasted away in the dark, damp, oubliette.

Upon reaching the interrogation room, she sighed and waited for Simon to unlock it. He pulled it open and stood to the side. Rachel peeked in. A cursory glance showed her no one was waiting for her yet. She tried not to sigh. When she paused for too long in the doorway, Simon pushed her and said, "In. Now." He shut the door behind her, and, with her backside pressed against the wood, Rachel felt the minute vibrations in the door as he locked it.

She shook her head and entered the room, scratchy anti-sanity, white-noise already came from the speakers overhead. Sighing, she walked to the table and sat.

God, she was so tired. She didn't even have the energy to pay attention to their torment today.

Three weeks ago, Inquisitor Jackass and Dr. Campbell would have asked her detailed questions about her ordeal, but most of the time now, all they did was show her random clips of footage from TV or have her listen to music. Occasionally they played a recorded message. It listed word after word in a painful monotone. Rachel wasn't sure what the Order was trying to accomplish, but she'd watched enough Sci-Fi movies in her life to assume they were trying to trigger her "hidden weapon" a-la _Serenity_ style.

_Miranda_!

Rachel snickered.

So far, it hadn't worked.

Rachel rested her arms on the table and put her head down. After a few minutes, she awoke to elevator music. It had replaced the static, but after a few more semi-silent moments, she promptly back fell asleep, oblivious to the room around her.

The scrape of metal against bare linoleum woke Rachel from a sound sleep. Snapping upright, she blinked to clear her vision. Her gaze settled on the man across from her. For a moment, her heart lurched believing Adam had come for her, but then it sank into despair when she realized the man sitting across from her was only Dr. Campbell.

Straightening in her seat, Rachel wiped the drool from her lip, and yawned while Dr. Campbell wrote a few notes on the page attached to a notebook clipped to his clipboard. When he finished, he lifted his baby-blue eyes from the sheet of paper to gaze at her. "Is there something you want to tell me, Ms. Munro?" he asked.

"Nope."

Campbell cleared his throat. "Are you getting along with Mr. Fitzgerald?"

"Simon? Yeah, sure," she replied with a shrug. "He's fine," Rachel added, though she wasn't even remotely okay. Simon couldn't care less about her and made sure she knew it.

"Fine?"

Rachel nodded and yawned behind her hand. "Hey? You think we can we skip this today? I'd like to go back to my room and take a nap."

Campbell shook his head. "What exercises does he have you do?"

_Not this again_! "You know," she hedged. "Same old. Same old."

"Are you saying that Mr. Black is a better mentor, or are you saying Mr. Fitzgerald doesn't challenge you enough?"

Rachel snorted. As if they didn't know! "Simon doesn't take me out for training. Simon doesn't talk to me unless it's to yell at me about Adam, but I'm sure you already knew that. You watch every move I make. Cataloging it against known misbehaviors. Hell, I can't even take a crap without Agent Petterson asking me about it."

She wasn't bitter. Nope. Not bitter at all.

"Ms. Munro," Dr. Campbell chided, "your surveillance is for both our protection and Mr. Black's."

Rachel rolled her eyes and slumped in her chair. "I'm not a threat to Adam, you, or anyone else in the Order. How many times do I have to repeat it? I didn't get brainwashed!" She ran a hand through her dirty hair, grimacing at the feel of the oily strands, yet unable to summon the energy needed to take care of herself. "Do I really have to spend another five weeks listening to the same questions over and over from you and jackass Petterson?"

Dr. Campbell set his clipboard down and rubbed his face in exasperation. With fingers pinching his nose, he said, "Look, Rachel, we have to do this." Dr. Campbell dropped his hand to his clipboard. "I don't want to be here either. But unless you want us to sit you down here, by yourself, forever, then you are stuck with these lines of questioning."

"Can't you talk to Ella? Isaac? Someone? I'm going stir-crazy around here, and it's only been three weeks."

She even entertained the idea of escaping the Order's compound for good, but the obstacles were overwhelming. The Order had all her official documents, not to mention when she had initially chosen recruitment, Darius had made a point of stressing she was now irreversibly linked to the Order. The thought of some ruthless _Hashashin_ sent to 'take care' of her, of the problem she represented—worse, the idea that it might be Adam himself—was enough to make Rachel abandon her half-formed plans in favor of staying put and staying alive.

"They already know everything that's going on," Dr. Campbell assured her. Rachel gave him a baleful look, and he sighed. "Just bear with it for a few more weeks, and then it'll all be over. Anyway, it's better to be prudent, right?"

"I guess."

He nodded and made a note in his file. "Excellent. Let's continue." Rachel rolled her eyes. "How do you feel now that you are with Mr. Fitzgerald?"

How did she feel? Her gaze drifted upward until her focus snagged on one of the room's three fluorescent lights. It flickered. Her attention drifted from Dr. Campbell. _When will it go out_ , she wondered. It clicked on and off so much that it might expire at any moment. Rachel held her breath as she stared at it, hypnotized by the unsteady glow.

Dr. Campbell cleared his throat, making her jump. "Ms. Munro?"

"Yeah?"

"Please answer the question. How does it make you feel?"

"Feel..." she said, then trailed off with a shrug. She felt horrible, claustrophobic, and criminalized. She glanced at the light fixture again. Truthfully, she didn't want to talk about any of it. Not Simon, Grace, her abduction, Jorge's death, her family, or Adam. She preferred not to think about any of those things. Not ever again.

"Ms. Munro?"

Rachel focused on Dr. Campbell. "Bored," she answered, latching on the one emotion that seemed the least threatening.

"Excuse me?"

"I feel bored."

"Explain," he prompted, writing a note on his hidden piece of paper.

_How_? "One newspaper a day isn't enough to keep me busy," Rachel tried, still attempting to be cooperative. "I'm tired of English crossword puzzles, weeks old comics, and partially, filled in sudoku. Can I have some books, a Kindle, an iPad, or something?"

"You know we can't do that." Dr. Campbell shook his head.

She groaned. "Why? Afraid it might trigger me?"

Dr. Campbell cleared his throat. "No. But, now that you've brought up the behavioral conditioning Mr. Prescott subjected you to, I'd like you to tell me more about the machine Mr. Black destroyed."

Rachel tossed her hands in the air. "Oh, for fuck's sake! I've already told you everything I can about it!"

"Enlighten me," Dr. Campbell prompted, "Again."

"Why?" She'd already explained it numerous times, and each time they brought up the NOM, dread churned in her stomach. What if she had told Mark something genuinely secret? Or worse, what if Mark had succeeded and the Order found proof of it? She didn't believe she was a threat to Adam or the Order. She was positive Mark hadn't programmed her, but what if she was wrong? What if—

She forced herself to stop thinking about the possibilities.

"Because, Ms. Munro, you shut down your emotions whenever we ask you about these things, and you need to address them at some point."

"What I _need_ right now, is to be let out of that room," Rachel snapped. "And if you won't let me out, at least let me have something to occupy my time. If you gave me back that loaner PC I once had, I could at least play solitaire." _Or, find out what is on that flash drive from Mark's lab._

Rachel refrained from touching the pocket where the storage device lived when she wasn't in her room. She knew hiding it from the Order was petty in the extreme, but—dammit—they'd treated her like a criminal ever since being rescued. Aside from being abducted and put in the NOM, Rachel'd given them no reason to doubt her loyalty. There was no way in hell she was going to let some doctor or interrogator she barely knew have this storage drive. Rachel slept with it on her and kept it close no matter where they took her within the compound. One of these days, she'd see Adam, and only then would she hand it over willingly, but not before she had a chance to learn what was on it.

The doctor sat back, sighing in resignation, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Rachel bit out, folding her arms over her chest and returned her attention to the flickering light. Her patience with this farce gone, and now all she needed was the Order to feel the same.

#  Chapter 4

Abhay sat at a back booth in one of the bars he liked to frequent. He rarely drank, as it clouded the mind, but he liked the atmosphere and the anonymity. Only one of those two were required qualities for today's critical phone calls. Calls he could never make in his home, car, or his work cubicle, not unless he wanted the Order to hear his latest deals. The hidden microphones he'd found during his daily sweeps, advertised the blatant surveillance.

_Heh_. Abhay wasn't born yesterday.

After a confirming glance at his surroundings, Abhay took out a cheap cellphone—one of those prepaid by-the-minute jobbies he'd explicitly bought for today—and dialed the first number on his task list.

"You've secured a meeting with the buyer?" Abhay asked the man who answered after the third ring.

"Yes. Two days from now."

"Excellent," he replied.

"How much do you want for the name?"

Abhay loved how his contact got to the meat of the matter quickly and without a fuss. He never asked for details on what he was helping to sell, even if that something was the name of the Order's highest executive. The leader of the entire Order of the Guardians for God. The twenty percent cut Abhay paid him bought his silence. Besides, the less he knew about what he was brokering, the less likely the contact would be to rat Abhay out should he be caught and made to talk. Abhay wouldn't put a little bit of torture past either the Order or the Org. if the mood suited them. But the stakes—and the money—were too big for Abhay to trust one of his usual underlings. They might jeopardize the entire operation and cost Abhay millions in lost revenue.

"Let the buyer tell me how much the name is worth, but I won't take less than half a million."

"Okay. Will you be contacting me the usual way?"

"Yes."

The man on the other end of the line hung up the phone. After a moment, Abhay dialed a second number.

"You have the encrypted email ready?" he asked without waiting for a greeting.

"Yes." The second man answered, unphased by Abhay's brusque tone.

"Good." Abhay thought for a moment, "Send the email tonight."

"Understood." After a pause, Abhay's contact asked, "Anything else?"

"No. I'll call you for an update in four days." Abhay waited until the contact hung up the phone. They never exchange real names or general phone pleasantries. Just one more layer in Abhay's secrets within obscurity.

Now that he finished his phone calls, Abhay popped the cover off the back of his burner mobile, removed the battery and SIM card, and began dismantling the plastic and internal components in preparation for disposal. Some of the phone parts he would throw away here and some pieces would be litter. Others still would be dumped in the trash along the way or burned later. He would buy a replacement phone in a few days. In the meantime, his black-market contacts would leave new contact numbers, sans their names, on a specific bulletin board at local meetups. Abhay would collect those numbers, and when the time came, he would call to get an update on his merchandise sale to the Order.

Once finished, Abhay opened his laptop. When it finished booting, he launched the programs needed to proxy his access and disguise his location. He needed to find more work, and he didn't need the Organization or the Order to know about it.

A chime pulled his attention from his searching.

Prototype 5, Abhay's planted phone, the one which captured ambient noise around the phone's owner, had a message for Abhay. Abhay clicked the appropriate icon, grabbed his earbuds, and listened to the prepared file.

_Black_ , Simon said.

_Simon_ , a voice responded. Abhay assumed the masculine voice belonged to the infamous _Hashashin_ Adam Black, Simon's nemesis.

_Jack's confirmed it. A man, bearing Prescott's appearance and mannerisms, has been spotted at Heritage. Take care of him_ , Simon ordered in a clipped tone, and Abhay felt a bit light-headed.

In the background, there was a sound of fabric moving and a soft grunt, before Adam replied, _On it_.

Abhay glanced at the timestamp of the file. His script had processed it fifteen minutes ago. Abhay slammed his laptop shut and jammed it into his bag. He had to hurry if he had any hope of beating the _Hashashin_ to Mark's nursing home.

#  Chapter 5

To Adam Black, Hashashin of the Sixteenth Ordinal

By the laws governing our Order, you are hereby notified of the formal investigation into your actions this past June in the city of St. Louis, Missouri, United States of America.

You are formally charged with a breach in protocol, and causing irreparable harm to a civilian.

Ordinance Code: 8796-LM-94321 clearly states that all romantic involvement (especially with civilians) requires pre-approval through proper channels. Furthermore, Ordinance Code: 9214-OTC-84 also defines our position on civilians present during hostile maneuvers.

The fact you were defending this said civilian in addition to yourself is irrelevant at this juncture. The current recruitment status of said civilian was an emergency containment measure, instigated by Stratigos Martin Darius and Protostratigos Reme Ister, after receiving the proper approvals required.

At the summation of the investigation, you will be summoned to Istanbul to stand accountable for your actions in a formal hearing.

Compliance is mandatory.

Sincerely,

The Supreme Commander

The Order of the Guardians for God

Adam glared at the documents currently laid out on Isaac's desk. They were printed on heavy parchment and stamped with the Supreme Commander's official seal. The text raised in bas-relief.

_A formal hearing_.

That was better than a trial.

Maybe.

Okay, not by much.

Adam's gaze drifted to the letter next to his.

Isaac's summons.

A trial.

Adam shook his head and peeked at Isaac from the corner of his eye.

Isaac stared at the top of his desk, his complexion bordered on green and pasty.

Adam glanced at his brother's document again. The fact Isaac had shared his summons concerned Adam. Isaac was _never_ that forthcoming, at least, not since they were kids. Adam read the charges on Isaac's letter again, noting how grievous his missteps seemed on paper as compared to Adam's "heat of the moment" infraction from a few months ago.

"In addition to this... this... this mess, I find myself in," Isaac waved to the documents on his desk, bringing Adam's attention back to him. "I have to deal with selling the London headquarters', that safe house in Scotland, help my new _Lokhagos_ rebuild our _Hashashin_ team, and I just read a report about Dr. Fiona Greer."—Adam's attention sharpened. What had Isaac learned about the dead geneticist?—"And if that wasn't enough, I have you in here— _again_ —pestering me about a trainee that is no longer your concern!"

"You might wish differently," Adam said, aiming for calm, though Isaac's snappish tone set his nerves on end, "but she _is_ my concern. Her name is on my formal summons! You know I have a vested interest in her welfare." Adam sighed in frustration and took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to get into another shouting match with Isaac over Rachel, especially for an argument which was beyond old for them both. "She isn't a threat to you, me, or the Order," Adam said after taking another deep breath. "Please, let her out."

"No."

Adam clenched his hands into tight fists. He had one more argument to try, "Isaac? Do you think that even if she were a secret weapon, she'd be a match for me, or, for that matter, anyone past their first year of training?"

Isaac ran a hand through his hair and sighed, shoulders slumping. "In most instances, no."

Adam's teeth ground together. What were the other instances? "Then, let her out."

"No." Isaac's tone was firm, but a moment later, it softened when he added, "But I give you leave to see her. Mr. Alexander, as well, should he desire to."

Adam nodded. It wasn't enough, but he'd take it, nonetheless. "Thank you."

Isaac waved a hand dismissively, shoulders straightening. "No thanks needed," he said. "She's a nobody, a weakling, with nothing to offer besides the honeypot between her thighs. I have no additional reasons—aside from the fact you're letting a quim rule your decisions—to keep you from bedding her regardless of her proposed weaponized status. You have my permission to resume your swivving, but keep your guard up even as sate your lust." Adam gritted his teeth. Rachel meant so much more to Adam than a casual dalliance. Before Adam could retort, Isaac continued, "I need you to return to your original mission, if you haven't already. Finding Mark is imperative. He knows too much and is too great a threat. His elimination is imperative."

"Officially?"

Isaac grimaced. "Yes. Officially. Please obtain your new orders from Ms. Mori. I'll need you to investigate non-traditional medical facilities in the southeast quadrant. While you were in Spain, Nicholas confirmed that Mr. Prescott is not in any of the city morgues, and Daniel continues to watch the hospitals. Our quarry has either gone to ground or disposed of nefariously. We need to find him."

"Understood," Adam turned to leave.

"Before you go, there's one more thing."

"What?"

"Dr. Greer."

Anger curled in Adam's belly like soured milk. "Yes?"

"She's alive."

Adam's mouth dropped open in surprise. "A-alive?" he stammered. He'd been sure—everyone had—of her death. To find out she was alive?

"Yes," Isaac replied, ignoring Adam's uncharacteristic response. "The Organization issued a ransom."— _Ransom_?!—"They contacted a first-year novice stationed in Australia. He alerted his _Lokhagos_ , who, in turn, alerted Istanbul of the demand. The Org wants a hundred thousand pounds against her safe return."

Adam frowned. _Ransom_?

Isaac, appearing to understand Adam's thoughts on the matter, for he added, "I know. Unprecedented. And yet, here we are."

"Will the Supreme Commander comply?"

Isaac curled up his lips in distaste. "Istanbul agreed to deal with the bastards. She's a full member. Therefore, we will pay the ransom to get her back."

"It's curious," Adam said, "that they are ransoming her, but it is good she will be safely returned. I'm sure her family will be relieved."

"Yes." Isaac agreed.

Adam couldn't remember a time—not without consulting the archives, at least—when the Org had held an Order's agent for ransom. Capture led to death, whether by the agent's hand or by the Org's. "Someone at the Org is up to something. Do we know what?"

"No," Isaac frowned. "Whoever is behind it has covered their tracks well. The demand came via encrypted email, and the trail was spoofed. Additionally, the person who sent the email is using a go-between to conduct the transaction. There is no way to know if he is the only point of contact, either." Isaac sat at his desk and clasped his hands in front of him. "We haven't found Greer's location, or Istanbul would authorize her rescue by force. I consulted our spy in Councilor Ridley's home. She knows nothing new."

"Are there official orders from Istanbul to investigate?" Adam would love to get his hands on that mission. But if Istanbul had already agreed to the demands, his thoughts trailed off

"No."

"Understood," Adam replied, returning to the conversation.

"Do you?"

Adam shrugged. He bucked the rules whenever he could, but sometimes it was prudent to obey. Crossing the Supreme Commander after he became involved, wasn't in Adam's best interest. For now, Adam was content to let Istanbul handle the issue.

Leaning forward, Adam snagged Isaac's summons from the desk and reread it. The list of wrongdoings was long but incomplete. Adam didn't want to bring it up, but he needed to ask. "They don't know yet, do they?"

Isaac made a soft-detersive snort. "About?"

Adam glanced at Isaac, making sure to catch his eye. "You know what about."

Isaac's gaze shifted away from his.

"When are you going to tell them about your slip of the tongue? The Supreme Commander needs to know his name is known, especially since we don't know what else Mark may have learned while interrogating Greer, Hurston, and Rachel."

"I don't know." Isaac ran a hand through his hair. "It never seems like the right time."

Adam sighed. He didn't want his brother in more trouble, but at the same time, Isaac's silence was damming him further. "You have to, Isaac. I know the Fortress is nearly impenetrable, but they will have to put additional safeguards in place to protect the _Polemarchos_ from Organization retaliation. You know he still leaves the compound when the situation requires it; if his name is compromised, he needs to know."

Isaac collapsed in his chair, defeated.

"You want me to do it?" Adam asked in sympathy. Isaac was in an awkward position, and Adam wished there was something he could do to help.

Isaac chuckled ruefully, "No, then I'll look even more incompetent than I already do."

"Tell him, Isaac. Tell him today."

Isaac glared but nodded in agreement before picking up the phone.

Adam sighed and let himself out of Isaac's office.

Standing there, back pressed against the door, he debated his options. He _should_ go to see Ella about his new orders or warn Cass that he and Isaac were soon to be on their way, but he knew that wasn't where he would go. Adam pushed away from the wall, determined. His steps took him down the hall to the stairs.

Ella could wait.

Cass could wait.

Rachel could not.

Besides, he needed to see her.

***

_God, if I have to listen to muzak one more time_! Well, Rachel wasn't sure what she'd do, but it wouldn't be healthy for her or the Order, that much was certain.

Rolling to her side, Rachel faced the wall of her bedroom cell as she let her tears of frustration and self-pity roll down her cheeks and nose. It was so hard to keep going since nothing had changed. Nothing would _ever_ change. She'd live out the rest of her lonely days stuck down here in the basement, far from everyone.

Forgotten.

Ignored.

Unwanted.

She couldn't do this anymore. Just as soon as she had the energy, she'd find something sharp and... And... Well, death was preferable to this limbo life she was living.

Rachel ignored the new knock at her door. The knock-ie rapped again before entering. The rattle of a cafeteria tray announced her visitor's intention without any investigative effort expended on her part. Rachel sniffed, and her stomach roiled. The food smelled foul. She covered her nose with her hand and tried to breathe shallowly.

Thank God and the Heavenly bodies, she wasn't hungry.

An hour later, someone returned for her plates but found her meal untouched. Rachel kept her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep, and perchance, never to wake up.

Rachel jerked awake sometime later, curious as to why.

After a moment of silence, the door creaked open.

_Ahh, a knock then_. Rachel closed her eyes. Whoever it was could go fuck a duck for all she cared. She wasn't in the mood to entertain visitors.

Someone approached her bed, their steps a whisper on the carpet. "Go away," she mumbled.

"Good. You're awake."

_Adam_?

The mattress dipped as Adam sat beside her. His fingertips brushed the hair from her face, and he tucked the strands behind her ear. Rachel refused to respond. He could go to hell. It was because of him that she was here. She'd lost everything: her family, her friends, her job, her freedom. Her life was in shambles because of Adam, and— She took a deep breath and let the anger wash over her and fade away, leaving lassitude behind.

"Sit up, Rachel. Talk to me."

She opened one eye and grumbled, "Why?"

The silence stretched between them. Adam's expression was hard to read, but he seemed—sad. Pity? She didn't need sympathy on top of everything else. "What?" she asked in annoyance. Adam opened, then closed his mouth. With a sigh of frustration and beyond weary, Rachel returned to the darkness behind her eyelids. "If you have nothing to say..."

_I will_ not _cry_.

"Rachel, I—"

She cut him off, her voice wavering, "Just go away."

"No," he said. "They tell me you haven't eaten in at least three days."

_Three_? Had it been that long? She shrugged, hoping it would be enough to get him to stop speaking and to go away.

It wasn't.

"You need to eat. I need you strong."

"Fine."

"Rachel..."

_Oh, for the love of Pete_! What? I said I'd eat!"

"I'm going to Istanbul."

Rachel sat up so fast the world spun as the blood rushed from her head. "Istanbul?"

"For a hearing." He nodded. "I've been summoned by the Supreme Commander of the Order. You have been as well. As a witness."

"Witness? A witness to what? Why? What for?" she asked.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "My actions in St. Louis."

She frowned and shook her head, "The fight in your loft?" Adam nodded. "That was self-defense," Rachel said. "Why would they investigate you about that?"

"Well, the attack by the Org is a part of it but not the whole reason." He took a deep breath before continuing, "You, Rachel. You are the reason."

"Me? Why me?" She'd done nothing in that loft but hide in the closet and fear for her life.

"Because I have yet to follow any rules where you are concerned, and especially not that night. And the one time I try—"

"Yeah," Rachel snarked, cutting him off. "You expected to do something you'd regret." Not that anything had come of the kiss they'd shared the night before her capture.

Adam winced. "Rachel, I had to keep you at a distance. If we'd crossed that line, Isaac would have sent you away, but now that you're are not my trainee anymore, I can formally petition Istanbul."

She didn't understand. "What do you mean, petition?"

Adam took a steadying breath as if bracing himself for a fight. "Historically, the Order has always encouraged its members to look for partners inside our ranks. It's easier for everyone and, in some cases, allows lineage families to endure. Occasionally though, one of us will meet someone outside the Order." He paused and frowned. Rachel stared at him, willing him to continue. She wasn't sure what he meant to say, but she felt as if she were finally getting some answers. He gave her a tight smile. "Although sometimes overlooked, one-night stands are highly discouraged. It's not practical to get involved with a civilian. That's why I— At first, I-I couldn't—"

"I see," Rachel replied flatly. She didn't, though. She simply hoped this wasn't some convoluted way for him to reject her again.

Adam stood and paced the small room. His hands rubbed his forearms, and Rachel noticed his missing bracer. "Arranged marriages are quite common, especially for _Hashashin_ , but before any member can enter a relationship with someone outside of the Order's ranks, he or she must first formally ask Istanbul for permission. Once the petition is accepted, we are free to proceed."

He stopped to face her, hands at his side, and chuckled softly. "Don't you see? Darius knew me better than I knew myself."

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and resumed pacing. "He preemptively recruited you even though he knew it was a breach of protocol. As you know, typically, you would have been made a permanent 'guest' of the Order," Adam paused to glance at her over his shoulder. "but that would have meant I could never see you again. Ever. Somehow Darius knew I'd break every rule to get back to you." Adam sighed and sent her a tense smile.

"It took me some time to understand Darius's reasoning behind your recruitment. But, somehow, he knew what you meant to me—though I don't know how, since I didn't know myself—and now I am planning on petitioning—"

"Wait a minute," Rachel interrupted as she leapt to her feet. "Let me make sure I get this straight. Now that _you've_ decided that I would be good relationship material and not a fast fuck"—Adam frowned, but Rachel plowed on—"you're planning to ask what? For my hand in marriage?" She gritted her teeth. She was furious, absolutely seething, "And when exactly did you plan to ask me how I felt about this? If I even still wanted a relationship with _you_?"

"Rachel—" he started.

"Don't 'Rachel' me, dammit!" She sniffed, fearing her tears would overflow, "Do I get to _choose_ anything in my life anymore? Or is it all laid out for me by you, and whoever is my keeper at the time? Do I have _any_ say in this at all?"

Adam shook his head, throwing his hands up in a placating manner. "That's not what I meant. I..." His fingers found and fisted in his hair, yanking. " _Siktir_! This is not going the way I planned."

"Well, that makes two of us," Rachel growled. His arms dropped to his sides as she crossed hers over her chest before curling into herself.

They were quiet for several beats. Eventually, Adam reached for her, but she took a step back. He sighed and continued. "I'm sorry, Rachel. For everything. I was planning on discussing this with you first, but things got in the way."

She hmphed, not ready to let go of her anger yet. Anger was refreshing and a lot better than her earlier apathy. For the first time in weeks, she felt alive again.

"Isaac plans to send me away as soon as Zach has an all-clear by Dr. Campbell. I can choose where to go—as long as it isn't St. Louis or London—but I cannot refuse the reassignment." Adam hesitated. "Where ever I go, I want you with me. If you're willing."

Silence reigned in the wake of his statement, growing awkward and fragile, but Rachel didn't know what to say.

"Are you willing?" he asked, his voice small, unsure, and a total opposite of his usually confident swagger.

Rachel sighed and nodded. "Yes." There was never any doubt that was what she wanted. Only the lack of forming her own decisions had held her back.

A genuine smile formed on his lips, and his posture firmed as his confidence returned. "There is a bright side to all of this."

"What?"

"You get to see Istanbul and the Fortress. I hope you love the architecture and ambiance of the place. It is the most secure location of all our compounds, and from the outside, it looks like ancient ruins. But inside?" Adam paused. "Inside is full of priceless art, history, and secrets. It's remarkable, and I'm glad you will get to see it."

Rachel tried to smile at his enthusiasm. Her heart ached. "Did you work there?"

"I was born there, trained there, and lived there for many years until my reassignment to London. It is home as no other place can be, and it will be nice to see Cass again."

"Cass?" Bitterness coated her throat. Who was Cass? An old girlfriend?

Adam nodded and returned to the bed. He patted a spot next to him, inviting her to sit. When she did, he continued, "Cass, Cassandra Haddad-Davis, is my sister."

_His sister_.

Relief made her muscles weak.

"She lives there with her husband, Geoff, and her two sons, Ean and Caleb. She is a sympathetic ear for agents or _Hashashin_ in need." He sighed a soft, happy sound. "We—Isaac, Cass, and I—haven't been all together in one place for a long time. She'll host a family dinner, and you'll come. You'll like her. You'll see."

If Cass was anything like Isaac, then Rachel wasn't so sure, but she would withhold judgment until she met the woman.

Adam cupped her cheek with his hand. His thumb brushed her lips, and Rachel's breath quickened. Was he about to kiss her? Did she even want a kiss? "You need to... Keep strong. Eat. Drink. Take care of yourself, like bathing regularly and exercise, and I'll keep working on Isaac. Trust me. This isolation will be over soon," he said before dropping his hand to his lap. "You will be free. And I promise to do better at including you in all decisions which affect you."

Rachel nodded. "Okay. Sure."

Adam stood and moved to the door, and Rachel followed, pausing when he did. Adam's brows furrowed. He shed the expression with a minute shake of his head and leaned in, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you soon, Rachel." She nodded again as he slipped out the door, shutting it tight behind him.

#  Chapter 6

When Rachel woke the next morning, her room wasn't quite as gloomy. The nightlight plugged in the bathroom's socket held a warmer glow. Rachel stretched. Her muscles ached with her newly found awareness.

She pushed to her feet, but before she could make her way to the light switch, her bedroom door slammed open. The overhead light flickered on, revealing Simon in the doorway. "You have two minutes to get dressed," he barked, turned around, and left again, closing the door behind him.

_Huh_? She quickly changed into sweatpants and t-shirt the Order provided her and grabbed the USB stick out of her discarded jeans' pocket and slipped it into her sports bra for safekeeping. After all these days in isolation, neither Dr. Campbell nor Inquisitor Jackass had confronted her about it. She assumed that either she the Order didn't care what she did in her "suite" or her room wasn't under surveillance. Regardless, she wasn't going to leave it behind for someone to find while she was out.

"Ready," she called.

The door unlocked, and Simon yanked it open. "Good. Let's go."

"Where are we going? The 'chamber'?"

Simon grunted. Rachel didn't know whether that sound was an agreement to her question or not, but it didn't matter. It quickly became apparent that they headed somewhere new, so something was different, and different was good. Maybe she would train today. Or maybe, they were letting her out!

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. Out was an impossible dream.

Once on the lobby floor, Simon headed toward the secure side of the building. Upon reaching the door, he unlocked it and held it open. "Upstairs," he ordered.

Rachel ascended the stairs without responding, and Simon followed. At the landing, he took the lead and brought them past the training room. Rachel glanced at it longingly and nearly bumped into his back when Simon stopped. "Here," he growled as he handed her a small plastic card.

_A key_?

As Rachel took the item from him, Simon pivoted on his heel and left her without an explanation. She watched his retreat as he stalked down the hall. After he disappeared down the stairs, Rachel turned her attention to the card key in her hand. "Huh," she muttered. Her heart raced with excitement, and nerves made her stomach feel as if it fluttered. She wasn't sure what had made this possible, but it seemed as if she was now free of the confines of her basement cell.

Her isolation ordeal was over!

Rachel slid the key into the reader. The light turned green, and the lock disengaged with a click. She pushed the door open and glanced inside, noticing right away that her old clothes and toiletries rested on the bed. She walked over to them. Her fingers brushed along the fabric. Though they were no different from the sweats and t-shirt she currently wore, they felt luxurious by the very fact they had been returned.

"I hope this room will be more to your taste," Adam said.

Rachel yelped in surprise and whirled around to face him. Adam stood in the threshold with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, his hair mussed as if he'd recently rolled out of bed.

"It's better, yes," she said nodding. "Thank you for convincing your brother to let me out early."

"He had no reason to keep you locked in. Especially when even _he_ knows you are no threat to anyone."

Rachel's lips twitched. "Not even a little?" she asked, unsure if she should be amused or offended.

Adam watched her, a slight frown marring his expression. "No."

"Aww, come on, that's unfair. I _can_ kick some ass."

"Maybe with more training—"

" _Merde_ , Adam, you suck at flirting," Zach chimed from the hallway, his voice sounded stronger at first and then faded as if he were walking away.

Adam smirked. "Shut it, novice," he called over his shoulder, and Rachel assumed Zach was quite a distance away now due to the volume of Adam's yell.

Refocusing on Rachel, Adam asked, "Have you had lunch yet?" The answering growl of her belly made him raise an eyebrow in response, and a smile tugged at his lips. "I'll take that as a no. Take a shower and meet us downstairs. We'll go out to eat."

"Really? You think we can go out?" Seeing the sun and the sky had felt like an impossible dream only yesterday. She needed air.

"We'll have to. Unless you want me to make spaghetti." He shook his head. "Honestly, I don't think we even have noodles on hand. There's only a handful of us left in the building. Everyone else has moved on to new locations." Adam paused and brushed a hand through his hair.

"Going out sounds perfect. I'll be ready in thirty," Rachel replied.

Adam smiled and nodded before closing the door quietly behind him.

Rachel stood staring at the spot he'd vacated for a moment longer before turning and heading to the bathroom. Once inside, she stared at her reflection. She looked gaunt. Sick. Rachel grunted and averted her eyes as she stripped out of her sweats. Hopping into the shower stall, she soaped up quickly then rinsing off. She wanted to get done and go outside.

After drying herself, she dressed in the tiny bathroom. When she'd been in isolation, she had been too depressed to care if anyone saw her naked, but now that Rachel had her freedom, she refused to be ogled by anyone. Rachel made a mental note to ask Adam if there were cameras in the rooms on the secure side of the building or if there was anything else she needed to know.

Pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail, Rachel glanced down at the storage drive stick resting on the edge of the sink. Now that she was free of isolation, she really should hand it over to Adam, but curiosity stayed her hand. Rachel wanted to find out what secrets it held. She grabbed it and slipped it into her pocket.

After one last look at the bathroom mirror, Rachel concluded she was ready. She opened the door to her suite and walked toward Adam's room. Stopping at his door, Rachel fidgeted nervously before knocking. He opened it and greeted her with the same smile she knew so well, that half-smirk, half-grin that held all his charms. She grinned back as he stepped into the hall, wearing his usual black hoodie and dark pants.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

"Where are we going?"

Adam laughed. "Italian. Zach's request."

Rachel snorted at the irony. Adam hadn't wanted to make pasta, and here they were, about to go out for pasta. "I don't mind," she assured him. "I'm just glad to get out of this building!"

"Zach said the same thing. He's waiting for us in the common room."

Silence fell once more between them, and Rachel figured this would be as good a moment as any to ask Adam what had been on her mind since first reaching her new room. "So, um... Now that I have a key and a room on this side," She faltered. "What are my limitations?"

"Limitations?"

Rachel waved her hand at the empty stairwell as if the motion encapsulated her question adequately. "Like guards, cameras, and movement restrictions. You know, like I had before?"

"Oh," he replied. "Well, you are still required to be in the compound at all times unless escorted by either Simon or myself, but you have free reign of the building." Adam stopped to open the door at the base of the stairs. "Not enough staff to do much more than that. We're down to Dr. Campbell, Jack and Greg providing building security, Isaac, Ella, Simon, Zach, and myself. In a few more days, we'll close on the building's sale and leave for Istanbul."

"Rachel!" Zach yelled from his perch on the couch. His arm was in a sling and held close to his torso so he couldn't accidentally move it while it healed. He looked uncomfortable and tired, but otherwise okay. Rachel waved. "It's so good to see you again," he said. "I was running out of excuses for holding up Adam's reassignment," he added with a wink.

Rachel frowned, not sure she understood, and Zach grinned. He started moaning theatrically. "Ohhh... I can't move. It hurts so much. I need more time before I can get on a plane!" He snorted in laughter. "I don't think Dr. Campbell believes me anymore."

She chuckled and offered her hand to help him up. "You're probably right. If you say it that way, I wouldn't believe you either." His exuberance was infectious, and she barely refrained from hugging him. "It's good to see you. Now come on, lazybones! Let's go get some lunch."

"Damn right! I can't wait to get out of this place."

After their lunch turned spend-so-much-time-at-the-restaurant-it's-now-dinner, Rachel, Zach, and Adam returned to the safehouse living room to chat and relax. As they entered, Rachel spied Simon, Dr. Campbell, Inquisitor Jackass, and another man she didn't recognize, playing cards at one of the dining tables. Simon glanced up at their arrival and scowled. She tried not to let it bother her, and instead joined Zach and Adam at the couches.

"So then," Zach said, continuing the story he'd started as they had entered the safe house, "the cop glared down at us and said, 'What's in the trunk?' And wonder boy over here, innocent as can be, answered, 'Nothing.' Of course, the cop didn't believe a word of it. You could see he was looking for an excuse to charge us with something—anything—and he demanded Adam open the trunk for him. Adam got out of the car slowly. The cop paled since Adam had a good six inches on him and twice as much muscle. Adam then walks around the car and pops the trunk open with a flourish. And guess what? It was empty. There was nothing in it! _Nothing_! Not even a spare tire." Zach guffawed and then grimaced as his laugh jolted his shoulder. "The cop's face was priceless. He looked like he wanted to punch Adam in the nose, but he didn't dare. In the end, he let us off with only a warning."

Rachel and Adam chuckled.

"Ugh, I'm so full," Zach said, flopping back onto the couch. "And tired. Adam? Turn on the TV, would ya, and pick something funny. I'm in the mood to laugh," he told them and closed his eyes. Adam complied, but as Zach snuggled in, Rachel doubted he'd be awake at the next commercial break.

One look at Zach and Adam muted the TV. It settled into a comfortable flicker, lighting the area and providing an intimate ambiance. Rachel scooted closer to Adam, and he wrapped his arm around her and asked, "You, all right?"

She shrugged in response and then smiled. "Sure. Yeah." Rachel glanced at the TV and then at a softly snoring Zach. _Yep, not even to commercial break_. "It was good to get out." She added. "I can't believe so much time has passed or that I missed the 4th of July. I bet the fireworks are impressive from Darius's office."

Adam snorted. "It's just a day here."

Rachel waved her hand dismissively. "How about you?" Adam's arm tightened on her shoulder, and she shifted to see him better. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," he said, shrugging. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She didn't know, but he seemed to be internalizing quite a bit. Rachel couldn't remember ever seeing his shoulders tight with tension, not even when they fled the Org. She let it go, and they sat in companionable silence for a while, idly staring at the TV and glancing at each other.

Every few minutes, Rachel would look over her shoulder to find Simon glaring at them. It bugged her. She didn't like not knowing what made him so angry with her, while at the same time, she understood there was nothing she could do to fix what was eating at him. Worrying wasn't productive, and she made several conscious efforts to ignore him, much like Adam had done since he didn't seem to notice the weight of Simon's gaze at their back.

Eventually, Simon's card game broke up. Inquisitor Jackass stood, laughing at something they had said, and waved as he walked away. Rachel watched as he left the room before she turned back to Adam. With a yawn, she asked, "What time is it?"

Adam clicked a button on the remote, which switched the display to a digital clock. Ten o'clock.

"Should we wake Zach?" Rachel asked, standing, ready to go to bed.

"Let him sleep if he's comfortable," Adam responded, joining her. "He hasn't been sleeping well because of his arm." Adam glanced at the emptying table behind him and then back to her. "I'll walk you up if you're ready," he offered.

"Okay."

Adam pressed his palm to her back and gestured for her to lead the way. They walked up the stairs and down the hall to her room, never quite touching. Once there, Adam paused and leaned against the door jam while she slid the card key into the lock. He stopped her with a touch, and Rachel's heart lurched into overdrive. She glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow in a silent question. She wasn't sure what to feel. He had taken great pains in telling her about the stupid dating rules that made it sound as if they couldn't sneeze in front of each other without first asking permission to do so, and now it looked for the world like he was about to kiss her.

She opened her mouth to speak, "Adam, I—"

He didn't let her finish. He placed a finger over her lips and then brushed her hair from the side of her face with the same hand. Slowly easing his palm behind her head, Adam leaned in. His lips traveled over hers, soft, sweet, hesitant. It made Rachel long for more. She wasn't sure what drew her gaze to the stairs, but there on the landing was Simon, glaring at Adam's back, and looking like he would love to kill Adam if he had half a chance. Before she could do more than tense up, Simon turned on his heel and stomped back down the stairs. Adam turned to look, but Simon had already disappeared.

"Simon?" he asked.

"Yes."

Adam sighed, releasing her. "You should probably go in now. Good night, Rachel."

"Good night, Adam," she replied.

#  Chapter 7

Abhay sauntered into a rather uninspired pub, one which looked like any of the other hundreds of pubs around London, except this one was different. This one held his target. Simon Fitzgerald. Abhay went directly to the bar, ordered two beers, and sat down before he checked the crowded room for his mark.

There, behind him, in a booth facing the door, was Simon. He sat with his back to the wall: defensive, staring at the drink in his hand. From the number of empty bottles on the table, it seemed as if Simon had been here a while, but Abhay knew for a fact Simon hadn't been. Due to the surveillance offered to Abhay through the prototype phone, he could say with full assurance that prior patrons had left three of the six beer bottles in front of him. Simon hadn't waited for the pub to buss the tables before taking a seat.

Once Abhay's beers were delivered, Abhay stood and glided over to Simon. Sliding into the opposite bench, he pushed one of the fresh beverages toward Simon. Knowing he had to speak fast, or Simon would kick him out of the booth, he asked, "Woman troubles?"

Of course, this wasn't the case. No, this brooding raced back to Lee and Adam. Lover and Enemy. _So Simple_.

"No," Simon responded curtly, his expression cold, utterly devoid of emotion, and significantly unnerving. Good thing Abhay had experience with surly men, taciturn women, and ball-busting councilors.

"You look like a man whose relationship turned sour. Did she dump you? Catch her cheating with your best mate?"

"Look," Simon said as he made as if to leave. "I don't know what you want, but I'm not going to talk to you."

"Stay," Abhay commanded, blocking Simon's exit with a well-placed boot on Simon's bench. Casually, he leaned forward. Doing his best to look suggestive, Abhay said, "Have a beer. It's on me."

Simon glared at Abhay, then down at Abhay's foot resting on the bench next to his thigh, and then back at Abhay. Finally, he settled back down, and Abhay smirked. "If it's not a woman, is it a man that's causing you to be so... conflicted? Because if it is, he's not worth it."

"You don't know what you are talking about, Jayla," Simon snapped.

Good. Simon remembered him. "Oh, I know quite a bit," Abhay said, taking a pull from his beer and struggling to hide his grimace. _How can anyone want to drink this nasty stuff_! After a few moments, when he was sure Simon wouldn't run off, Abhay lowered his foot. He motioned to Simon to drink his beer. Still playing the game, Abhay addressed Simon with the alias Simon had used at the poker game. "So, Reece, how's the phone? I was sad to part with it."

Simon grunted. "Fine."

"Good." Abhay paused, letting Simon stew about Abhay's motives for a minute. While he waited, Abhay took another pull from his beer. Simon did the same.

"Are you going to play cards again anytime soon? It's been two weeks." Two hectic weeks where Abhay had hauled Mark from nursing home to nursing home, barely one step ahead of the Org and the Order.

It had been exhausting.

"No."

Abhay raised his eyebrow in question, "And why not? You won most hands."

"Business trip."

"Business trips don't take that long. What about after?"

"Why are you so interested?" Simon asked, suspicion coloring his tone.

Abhay leaned in across the table and said in a quiet voice, "Because, Reece, I'd like to get to know you better." He knew he was laying it on thick, and the lie didn't sit well with him, but now that Abhay had decided to go this route, he had to see it through.

Simon sat back abruptly, his eyes widening at the blatant come on.

Abhay used the moment of shock to add, "You're an attractive man, and if it isn't women troubles, well... then... maybe I have a chance." Simon tried to leave again, and Abhay knew at once he'd pushed too far too quickly.

"Calm down, Simon," Abhay urged. He choked back a laugh at Simon's incredulous expression, probably at the use of his given name. "We have a lot to discuss." Abhay's practiced smile ought to keep the man across from him in his seat. "I can help you get what you want, guaranteed."

Simon sat quietly, presumably contemplating Abhay's offer. "All right, _Jaya_? How can you be so sure you can provide what I want?"

Abhay grinned. After seventeen days of eavesdropping through Simon's phone, he had a damn good idea of what would motivate this _Hashashin_ enough to work with him. "I can help you get rid of your... troubles. But in exchange, I need to locate some secrets that have been stolen from me. You can help me retrieve them." Abhay waved to the bartender. When he had the man's attention, he indicated a fresh drink order for two and turned back to Simon. They waited in silence for the bartender. Abhay spoke once he left, "Cheers!" He clinked his bottle against Simon's. "I think we can have a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Simon took a sip from his new bottle of beer. "Tell me more," he acquiesced.

Abhay laughed. Sometimes it was so easy! "I know you resent Black for being alive while your lover, Lee, is not." Simon's eyes narrowed in response. "As I said, I need your help with locating and retrieving my secrets. In return, I will help you remove Adam Black." Abhay smiled, "You want him to pay for what he did three years ago. You can't do it yourself because of that ridiculous code of honor you live by. Well, I'm here to help."

"You expect me to believe this load of bullshite?"

"Yes," Abhay replied and drank some more beer. It still tasted like shit, and it was making his brain feel fuzzy. He set the bottle aside, vowing no more. He needed his wits to outsmart the _Hashashin_.

"What's your game, Jaya?"

"No game."

Simon sneered, "There's always a game." They sat in silence, studying each other. Finally, Simon asked, "What are these secrets you need to find?"

"The secrets, themselves, don't concern you, only the act of their retrieval."

Simon studied Abhay, and Abhay waited silently for Simon to work through all the variables.

"What do you want from me?" Simon asked.

Ah, the opening Abhay needed. "I need you to search your new trainee for a USB drive. Shouldn't be too hard for you to find."

Simon laughed as he settled back in his bench, his arm casually draped along the back of his seat as if he didn't have a care in the world. "And you think _she_ has it? Why?"

"A little bird told me."

"Must be some bird," Simon retorted.

_You have no idea_.

After several moments of loaded silence, Simon asked, "And getting you this drive entitles me to what, exactly? Black's demise?"

"Yes," Abhay replied, though he wasn't sure how to do _that_ part—not yet anyway—but the means would come to him. He was sure of it.

"Prove it."

"I would _love_ to," Abhay stifled a snicker. He rather enjoyed this part of the negotiating process. Knowing what his buyer coveted most and being able to provide it, thrilled him, especially when he gained from it. "If you provide me with what I seek, then I will assist you in disposing of your enemy." Abhay held still, studying the man across from him. He knew from Simon's expression the moment he came to a decision. Simon stood, and this time, Abhay let him leave the booth without trying to stop him.

"How about a little test," Simon said. "To prove you really can do what you are saying."

"Yes?"

"If you can find me the only picture that exists of the night Lee and I became official, I'll search for your drive."

"Easy," Abhay said, extending his hand. When they shook on it, Abhay said, "It's a deal."

Simon nodded and then leaned forward, bracketing Abhay's shoulders with his hands. His cheek brushed against Abhay's, and Simon whispered into his ear, "Oh, and Abhay?" Abhay gulped. Simon knew his name. "The next time you act gay to pick up a man, do try to keep the sour expression from your eyes and lips. It destroys the illusion that you like cock." And with that, Simon pushed himself up and away, and sauntered out of the pub.

# Chapter 8

Simon and Adam sat at opposite ends of the living room in the London safe-house. While each attempted to ignore the other, it wasn't working. Simon spent more time sending Adam venomous looks than he spent watching the TV, and Adam, doing his best to ignore it, worked on his required training exercises. He had recently finished four of his ten practice worksheets when movement near the hallway caught his eye.

_Rachel_!

"Good evening," he called. Rachel looked up and smiled.

"Hi, Adam," she greeted. As she drew near, Adam sighed in contentment. He never tired of her voice and had once equating it to the song of a canary: soft and sweet, full of bright tones, and possessing a lilting beauty.

"It's good to see you leave your room," he said.

"Yes, it is." She pulled out a chair and sat. Leaning forward, she studied the papers in front of him. "Hidden pictures? Isn't that a bit juvenile even for you?"

Adam smiled.

"You've found about thirty so far," she continued. "How many more do you have to find?"

He shrugged. "There are over a hundred items in that picture."

"A hundred?" Rachel poked at the top sheet, uncovering the others beneath it. His neat circles around the hidden objects identified all the items he'd already discovered. "How long have you been at it?" she asked.

He glanced at the clock. Adam had been sitting there in the commons for under half an hour, but he'd only recently started. "Ten minutes, maybe."

Rachel raised her eyebrows and pulled the stack closer. After glancing at the other sheets, she asked, "You've found over 400 items already, and you just started?"

"Sure," he said, shrugging off her awe. The task wasn't hard for him, and truthfully, if he'd spent less time trading dirty looks with Simon during those ten minutes, he could have been done with all the sheets by now.

Studying the drawings, she frowned, and Adam felt compelled to continue. "Hidden pictures teach us observation. In the field, the smallest detail may mean the difference between life or death." He pointed to the picture in her hands. "In this one, there are over a hundred hidden items." He slid a blank one out from under the others, checked the code at the top, and said, "This sheet will be a lot harder. It only has fifty items."

"Why the difference?"

"Some missions only have one objective, such as item retrieval, and others have a plethora to choose from, for example, reconnaissance. Believe it or not, this provides experience for both. I had one picture once that only had one hidden item to find." Adam paused and smiled, "I spent half an hour on it." _...And then had gone to find the artist_. Adam had spent a pleasant afternoon with that artist discussing the merits and difficulty of each drawing.

"You do this often?" she asked.

Adam nodded. "Through these games are mostly used to train novices, but I find them relaxing, and often do them for fun."

"What other games do you use for observation skills? Word search? Crosswords? YouTube Whodunit videos?"

Adam snickered. "Crosswords are critical thinking, not observation, and word search is pattern recognition, and I don't use YouTube. They're amateurs."

Rachel rolled her eyes, and amusement lit her face. It made him want to reach across the table to touch her, but Simon chose that moment to shift in his seat across the room, drawing both of their attentions.

"You willing to play Golf?" she asked.

Adam refocused on Rachel, and Adam silently cursed himself for his inattention. He'd missed the fact she'd brought cards to the room. He'd been too busy watching her reaction to Simon—and, he had to admit, how well she filled out her shirt—to notice the deck of cards.

Sloppy.

"Golf?" he clarified.

Rachel grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. Zach got me hooked on it. There's not much strategy involved, but it's a fun way to kill some time. I was hoping Zach would be down here, but I guess he's in the library, and that's too far away for me tonight."

Adam's attention again shifted to Simon when he changed the channel and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. It didn't escape his notice that Simon turned the volume up in the process. He repressed his sigh and turned back to Rachel.

"So?" she repeated, "Will you play?"

"Sure."

She started shuffling the deck. "We can play a few practice rounds first. I'll deal." Rachel spent the next few minutes explaining to him the point structure and rules of the game. When she finished, she asked, "Ready?"

Adam agreed, and they spent the next fifteen minutes taking turns dealing cards. They were halfway into the first nine rounds when Rachel looked back toward Simon and scowled, visibly annoyed. "How loud does he need that TV?" she quietly asked. "He's right there."

"He's trying to drown us out."

"I gathered that," Rachel paused. Adam watched as several emotions cross her face, one of which was unease, but it faded, and resolve took its place. "I'll be right back," she announced as she stood and walked over to Simon. Simon tensed as Rachel drew near. Adam did as well, ready to spring to her defense if she needed it.

"Hey Simon," Rachel said over the laugh track of the comedy Simon watched, "would you turn it down a bit? My ears are bleeding over here."

Simon tilted his head back to look up at her. As the staring contest continued, Adam quietly stood. He didn't want to break up a chance for Rachel to assert herself, but the two of them were getting nowhere. Thankfully, before Adam could take steps to resolve the standoff, Simon grunted and tapped the volume control.

"Thank you," Rachel replied with sincerity as the decibels decrease. Turning, she rejoined Adam with a smile. "Let's finish."

It wasn't long after they resumed their game that Zach came down the hall. Spying them, he beelined to their table. "Oh! Golf? Can I play too?"

"Sure," Rachel replied, grinning. Collecting all the cards, she added, "We'll start over as long as Adam doesn't mind."

"I don't."

They had played two rounds of the new game when Simon sat forward abruptly. "Don't call me on this number," Simon said in a low voice—but not quietly enough to not be heard.

He had Adam's full attention, even while he played his hand.

"You found the photo?" Simon paused for a response. "Already? Are you sure? There was only one copy." He ran his hand through his hair, "Tell me what you see." There was another pause while whoever he was talking to replied. Simon's voice held a tinge of excitement when he spoke again, "I can't believe it. I just told you about it the other day. When can I pick it up?" Adam lost the rest of the conversation when Simon dropped his voice lower and eventually hung up the phone.

Adam's attention drifted back to the table and the game of cards. Zach had his hand on Rachel's arm, and her mouth was open as if he stopped her mid-word. Adam gave a minute shake of his head, and her mouth snapped shut.

"Who's turn is it?" he asked. Rachel's curiosity would have to continue unabated. He'd not learned anything from Simon's phone call except that the other _Hashashin_ was taking care of some personal business, and provided he wasn't blowing off a mission, there was no rule against that.

"Yours," she replied.

Adam nodded. He checked his hand before selecting a card and resuming the game.

#  Chapter 9

Rachel awoke abruptly from a pleasant dream where she walked on a beach, hand in hand with Adam, and it took a moment for her to get her bearings. When she remembered, she rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. Rachel groaned. It was seven in the morning. Why had she awoken?

Someone pounded on the door.

"Coming, coming," she grumbled when it became clear that whoever it was wouldn't go away. Hopefully, it wasn't Inquisitor Jackass or Good Doctor Campbell, here for more tests. She slid out of bed and shuffled to the door. Upon opening it, she found a blood-shot, stern-faced Simon on the other side.

"Good... morning?" she greeted him, wary of his mood.

"Get ready for training," he barked. "You have two minutes to change, or I'll drag you out of there myself."

Rachel gaped.

"Now!"

She jerked and nodded, wondering what had made him so irritable this morning when last night he'd sounded down-right jubilant. "O-okay," she stammered. Her hands shook as she closed the door, dashed to her dresser, yanked out something to wear, and finally changed into her training clothes. Rachel had barely finished dressing before Simon returned to pounding on her door. She opened it and followed him to the training room next to the stairs. Their steps echoed ominously in the empty hallway, and Rachel's sense of impending doom grew.

As soon as they entered the training area, Simon stormed to the center, spun, and barked, "What training have you had outside of the Order?"

"I did some Aikido, four years of Yoga, and I jogged five miles every other day. Last winter, I picked up some Parkour classes."

Simon sneered at her comment, "Parkour?"

"Yeah, Adam's a good teacher. I learned a lot in his classes."

"I bet you did."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel asked.

He dismissed her question with a wave. "We'll start with some stretching and then do some strength training."

"Okay." That didn't sound too bad.

They spent the next forty-five minutes doing different exercise routines like Tai Chi and Yoga. The only conversation came from Simon's clipped instructions or her tentative affirmations. After nearly a month of inactivity, Rachel's muscles quickly protested her effort, and she kept daydreaming about the hot tub in the women's communal shower room.

Simon interrupted her thoughts, "You are not paying attention." With an aggravated sigh, he added, "You know Aikido?"

Rachel nodded slowly. Where was he going with this?

"Prove it," Simon spat.

Rachel never saw the attack coming. One second, Simon was across from her, the next, she was on the mat. Rachel landed hard on her side, rolled, and clambered to her feet before dropping into a ready stance. Her body ached from earlier exertions, and muscle memory was the only reason she avoided his punch before it smacked into her nose. Immediately, Simon attacked again.

As the mock battle wore on, Rachel noticed increasingly more instances where it seemed as if Simon was intentionally copping a feel. Finally, she'd had enough. "What gives, Simon?"

"What?"

"Why are you feeling me up?" she asked, calling him on it.

"I thought you liked that sort of thing? Isn't that what Adam does when you spar? It's what he used to do with the others."

Rachel didn't like how Simon sneered when he talked about Adam. And truthfully, she felt a bit put out to thinking of Adam touching someone else so inappropriately. "No. He's professional," Rachel defended, determined to not think of all the jokes and snarky comments he would make to his class while his students ran his course. When he was in training with her or Zach, he had been nothing but professional.

"Oh, professional. Like this?" Simon asked and tackled her to the mat. Sitting on her hips, he grabbed her breasts, giving them a quick squeeze.

"Get off me," she growled, shocked by his audacity.

"If you don't like it, then do something about it," he said, giving her breasts, another fondle before releasing them. Sliding his hands from her chest to her shoulders and then the floor, he leaned down and said, "I'm disappointed. I thought you could do better than this." Rachel bared her teeth, and he released her, standing. "Attack me," he commanded.

Rachel followed him up and readied herself. For the next several minutes, Simon pushed her hard but stayed within her skill level. Within a few minutes, she was beyond exhausted. It was nearly impossible to keep ahead of Simon and his years of training, and unlike Grace or Adam, Simon had neglected to set a tap-out safe word before he attacked her. She didn't know what she could say or do to have him stop long enough for her to catch her breath. He seemed determined to make her suffer.

Simon, as if hearing her thoughts, launched yet another vicious kick, straight at her ribs. She threw herself into a roll and scrambled to her feet in a desperate bid to avoid it. As Rachel stood, he grabbed her from behind, patted down her ribs and stomach before he threw her against the matted wall. She smacked against it hard, rebounding. Her fingers snaked up to clasp her aching nose, and her fingers came away bloody.

"Again," he barked.

After a long moment of hesitation, Rachel turned. She didn't know what to do. This spar wasn't training. This spar was something else entirely.

It was personal.

She hadn't quite finished the motion of facing him, before Simon swung, feigning a punch, and following it up with a roundhouse kick which sent her to the ground. She landed hard, gasping, trying to catch her breath.

Simon snorted. "And you were recruited? Pathetic."

Rachel shook her head. She wasn't pathetic, just outclassed.

She rolled to her back.

Simon sighed and yanked her to her feet so hard her shoulder popped. Rachel bit her lip to hold back her yelp of pain, concerned that any show of weakness would set him off.

He dropped his hands to her shoulders. "Again," Simon ordered, and Rachel wondered when the torture end?

Backing up, she tried to put distance between them, but he chased after her. Lunging, Simon caught Rachel about the hips and hoisted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her into the wall. "You're not very good at this," he whispered into her hear. "If I were a rapist, I'd already be inside you." He punctuated his statement by grinding his pelvis into her crotch.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise., and she pushed ineffectually at his shoulders. "That's-that's," she stammered, unable to voice her indignation.

"Don't believe me?" he asked, his words more sinister for their lack of volume.

"That's-that's crude and unnecessary," she finally bit out, squirming in his grip.

"Is it now," Simon said, grabbing her ass, and squeezing. It made her almost sick with relief to note his complete lack of arousal at his actions, and as quick as he'd caught her, he let her go.

Falling to the floor, Rachel pulled her knees to her chest. She gulped air in a futile attempt to hold back her tears. Today was turning out to be a nightmare!

An open palm smacked her, catching her in the side of the head and making her ears ring. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up," Simon scoffed.

"But," she began.

"Would I give you a break if I were the Org?"

Rachel eyed him from her place on the floor. "No, but—"

"Would I let you 'catch your breath' if I were determined to molest you?"

"No, but I—"

"Then, get off your fat, ugly, ass, and attack me."

She didn't think she cared, and it took his threatened backhand to get her to comply. He didn't wait for her to be fully upright. In her peripheral vision, she saw his punch and managed to dodge it successfully, but she didn't know how long she could keep it up. He increased his tempo with a one-two-three combo jab that flew at her face and stomach. She blocked the first two but missed the third, and Simon's fist collided with her sternum. She folded over, gasping for air.

Rachel glanced at the door and the hallway beyond. Once there would have been people—agents, _Hashashin_ —coming and going, but now, it was quiet and still. She was stuck. She couldn't leave, and yet staying was foolish. She didn't stand a chance if he decided to utilize his full strength. He rewarded her inattention with a fist to her eye, and she felt more than heard a sickening pop before it started to throb. Doubling over in pain, she covered her injury with her palm.

"What does he see in you?" Simon muttered. "You can't even protect yourself. Stand up straight and fight!" A knee entered her line of sight, and she whimpered, bracing for impact.

She was going to die.

He was going to kill her.

And aside from the fact she was dating Adam, she had no idea why he'd want to.

"Simon, Stop! Stand down!"

A woman's voice.

In the wake of Rachel's relief, she couldn't even look to her savior. Instead, she tumbled to the ground in a boneless heap. Tears leaked from her eyes, mingling with the blood, as Simon's feet backed away.

"Go to your quarters. Immediately, _Hashashin_ ," the newcomer commanded, and Rachel thought it was Ella.

Rachel tried to raise her head, but her entire body hurt. She was also having a tough time seeing out of her left eye as it was already starting to swell shut.

Knees.

Rachel flinched and yelped when the motion made her injuries scream in protest.

"Look at me, Rachel," the soft voice instructed, and Ella came into focus. She tucked her arm under Rachel's shoulders and helped Rachel to her feet. Rachel squealed, a high pitched, frantic sound, which didn't even sound real. Ella hugged her close. "Let's get you to the infirmary," she said.

Slowly, Ella led Rachel out of the training room to the stairs. "You'll need ice," Ella said after a long silence. "And I want to make sure Simon didn't cause too much damage before I got there. Can you stand straight?"

Rachel tried to and groaned. "No. It hurts."

"Okay. Don't push it. Lean on me. We'll get you checked out." She braced Rachel against her side as they made their way to the infirmary downstairs. "I'm so sorry you have to walk. I wish we had a lift."

"S'okay," Rachel slurred through a swollen bottom lip.

The journey took a few painful minutes before Ella finally guided Rachel into the infirmary, where she helped Rachel sit on a cot. "I'll find Dr. Campbell. Will you be all right for a few moments while I track him down?" Rachel nodded, speaking hurt, and she didn't want to admit it to Ella.

She wasn't sure how long she had been alone in the infirmary before both Adam and Dr. Campbell entered the room. Adam scowled as he hurried to her side. Dr. Campbell joined him a moment later and began his examination.

"Your eye will be fine, no broken bones," Dr. Campbell told her after a quick inspection. "Let me see your ribs."

Rachel tugged up her shirt, and Dr. Campbell palpitated her side and stomach.

"Broken?" Adam questioned as he observed them.

"No," Dr. Campbell replied as he finished his examination. "She'll be fine. Only bruised."

"Good," Adam retorted.

Dr. Campbell patted Rachel on the shoulder. "I'll get you some pain killers."

"Thank you," she whispered.

As the doctor walked away, Adam turned to her. "I need to know what happened."

Rachel took a steadying breath before replying, "Simon. At training," Rachel paused, swallowing back the grief threatening to overflow. "He said I needed to prove my Aikido skills." She covered her eyes. "He—" her voice hitched, "—he was too fast. I couldn't keep up." She tried to moderate her voice, but it continued to waver when she said, "And he was groping me."

"Groping you?"

She nodded and regretted it immediately.

Letting her hands fall to her lap, she stared at Adam, willing him to explain, to give her experience a sense of closure.

After a long while, Rachel prompted, "It felt like he was punishing me. Could he have been?" Another beat, she added, "Punishing me?"

There was silence between them for a long time before Adam finally reached forward and took her hand. "You know about the mission that ended badly? The one where I was injured and sent to St. Louis?"

Rachel swallowed. "Yes."

"We were a team, Simon, Lee, and I, and our task was to infiltrate Mark's mansion. The Order knew Mark always had two teams of four with him acting as bodyguards. Two _Hashashin_ could have easily taken them out, and my team had three." Adam sighed. "The idea was to pick off the guards and then go after Mark. At the last minute, I learned Mark actually had four teams of four and not the two we originally thought."

"What did you do?"

Adam shook his head, "I disregarded the intelligence." He paused, and his gaze strayed far away from the present as he reminisced. Rachel had no problem believing it was a painful story to tell, even after three years. She already knew how much his failure to protect his fellow _Hashashin_ —Lee—still gnawed at him. "I was too arrogant to think there could be anything I couldn't handle," he eventually added.

"What happened?" she whispered, almost afraid to learn the rest.

"I led the team into Mark's compound despite my superiors' request to wait for backup. Mark was a threat, and we needed to eliminate him. End of story." She heard him take a deep breath, "I led the charge, but there were too many guards, and we were overwhelmed. They separated us, weakened our defenses. In the end, I had no choice, and I called for a retreat. I didn't see the guard, the one closest to Mark, level the gun at Lee in time to do anything about it. He was shot point-blank in the face."

Rachel inhaled sharply.

"After that, Simon went berserk. I was wounded, yet I had to fight off the Org to drag Simon away. He wanted revenge. He wanted Lee's body. He wanted death. He was inconsolable." Adam's expression drew pinched.

"I don't understand," Rachel said. "I mean, I get the whole 'brother in arms' mentality, but why did he lose control? And why does he now take out his grudge on me, instead of you?" Rachel realized that sounded a bit harsh, "I mean, I don't—"

Adam cut her off. "He takes out his grudge on you because—" He paused again. "You see, Lee was a good friend of mine. He had my back for years. He was a year behind me during training and ended up being a third-year to Simon's first. They met during Lee's last year of training, while they were both stationed in South Africa. They hit it off right away. Once they were both free and clear of training, they petitioned Istanbul. In a surprise move, _Antipolemarchos_ Valis granted their request. He doesn't formally accept same-sex couples. At least, not usually. He tends to follow the older, stricter rules in that regard, even though he personally doesn't have an issue with that form of sexuality. But things change even here, and the news was cause for us to celebrate. They were together for six years, until Lee's death," Adam concluded, and sighed.

"And now he's angry because I'm here, and Lee is gone?"

"Yes."

At that moment, Dr. Campbell rejoined them. In his hand, he had two pain pills, and in the other, was a glass of water. "Here," he told her, giving her both. "They are fast-acting. I'd prefer for you to rest here for a few hours while they're in effect. They are quite strong." Again, he walked away, returning to her side with the blanket. "I'll come back to check on you in a bit," he told her before leaving the infirmary.

Adam adjusted the blanket over her feet and legs. "Are you comfortable?" Rachel nodded. It was only a tiny white lie. "I'll be back after you rest," he added. "Right now, I have to take care of something." She frowned slightly, wondering what it could be, but in the end, she let him leave without a word despite the sinking feeling that Adam was about to confront Simon whether she wanted him to or not.

#  Chapter 10

Adam was angry—pissing mad, in fact, and he was beyond ready to have it out with Simon.

Adam marched to the security room and knocked on the door. Jack poked his head out and asked, "Yes, Mr. Black?"

"Has Simon left the grounds?"

Jack shook his head. "If he did, he didn't sign out."

"You know where he is?"

"Nope. Haven't seen him all morning."

"Thanks," Adam replied.

Jack's "Check his room!" drifted toward Adam's back as Adam made his way to the staff's quarters. He gained the second story landing and stalked to Simon's room. He pounded on the door. A moment later, Simon yanked it open and sneered. "Bloody hell, Black. It was just training."

Adam barged into Simon's suite, forcing Simon to take a step back.

"What the fuck?! Get out of my room!" Simon yelled.

Adam shoved Simon, knocking him backward. Simon danced as he caught his balance and dropped into a defensive posture.

" _Siktir_! What were you thinking?" Adam growled. "Groping Rachel? Beating her? You knew she couldn't fight you. She's a civilian."

"I wasn't fighting a _civilian_ ; I was training a recruit," Simon spat back, " _Your_ recruit."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean: she's useless, and no help to the Order and shouldn't be here."

"Bullshit," Adam growled.

"She's unnecessary," Simon reiterated.

"No recruit is unnecessary, least of all her. She is an asset, and you know it."

"An asset? Ha! More like a piece of arse! Some dumb bird who whored herself out to you and got caught when the Org came knocking."

"Dammit, Simon! She's not a wh—"

"Fuck you, Black! I'll talk about that bitch—" but that was as far as Simon made it before Adam's fist connected with Simon's mouth. Simon pressed his fingers to his lip, smearing the blood which welled from the split. Simon grinned and jumped at Adam, tackling him, and knocking him backward. The momentum slammed Adam into Simon's dresser. The edge dug into Adam's side. Adam's kidney protested, and he gasped out a groan as he brought his knee into Simon's stomach. Simon let go with a gasp and staggered back.

Simon feigned to the right, sent a jab to the left, but Adam dodged the punch. A quick series of return strikes had Simon back peddling. After the fifth blocked punch, Adam kicked and knocked Simon's arm to the side, giving him the opening he needed. Adam punched Simon and caught him in the chest with his left fist. Simon took a step back, gasping for air.

Before Adam could pull his hand back, Simon caught it and twisted it painfully. Adam gritted his teeth and attempted to shake Simon loose. Simon, though, was prepared, and he pulled Adam's arm across his body, dragging him closer, and kicked him, catching Adam in the stomach with his foot. Adam tensed his abdomen, expecting the blow, but he still reeled from the impact.

Simon dropped his leg and attempted to sweep Adam's feet out from under him. Adam deftly hopped over Simon's leg, and, as he jumped, he caught the dresser. Using it as a pivot point to get airborne, Adam caught Simon in the chest with both feet, forcing him backward again. Simon hit the bed, lost his balance, and fell onto it. As he landed, he rolled backward and came to his feet on the other side. Simon hurdled back over it. As he barreled toward Adam, he unsheathed his blade.

"Simon—" Adam warned in a low voice. When Simon didn't check his advance, Adam drew his own knife from its sheath.

"Adam! Simon! Enough!" Ella bellowed from the doorway.

_It's not going to happen, Ella_.

In Adam's peripheral vision, he saw Ella crouch, her blade ready. "You are acting like children. Stand down!"

Simon took a slicing swing at Adam. As Adam sidestepped, Ella hopped between them. She shoved Simon in the chest, checking his knife strike with the edge of her own. He stumbled back and caught the bed with the back of his knees, which forced him to sit down, hard.

"Stay there, _Hashashin_ ," Ella commanded him with her blade at his nose. "Isaac, get your boy!"

_When had Isaac arrived_? Adam thought as he straightened.

"Hallway. Now," Isaac barked.

Adam glared at Isaac as he stalked toward him. When Adam reached him, Isaac grabbed his left arm and yanked him closer. Chest to chest, Isaac growled, "You fool!"

"Simon went too far—"

"And that gives you the right to get into a knife fight with him?"

"You saw what he did to Rachel!"

"Yes, and you're supposed to let me, or Ms. Mori handle it."

"Like you handled her isolation?"

"That was different. I was well within—"

"No, it wasn't," Adam snapped. "Now, let me go."

"No," Isaac responded with a minute shake to Adam's arm. "I will not let you further destroy your career. Remember, you are already under investigation. Don't add 'attacking another _Hashashin_ with intent to kill' to the list of your faults."

"How can I let it go when he will not?" Adam retorted. "If he needs to fight me to assuage his grief and anger, let him do it, but I won't let him beat Rachel." Adam shook off Isaac's grip and reentered Simon's room.

"Back off," Ella ordered, her tone as chilly as he'd ever heard it, and Adam halted. Appearing satisfied with him, Ella then turned her ire on Simon. "You overstepped your bounds, _Hashashin_. You disgrace me and all your fellow _Hashashin_ when you attack someone like Rachel. She's not here to be a _Hashashin_ , and you have no right to treat her like a third-year novice."

"She was _recruited_ so that _he_ could fuck her with impunity," Simon spat back. "I don't give two shites if he's following the rules about it, now, or not. Why is the Order making an exception for him? He doesn't deserve it!"

"Simon—" Ella paused to rub her face. "Attacking Adam and beating Rachel isn't going to bring Lee back. He's dead, Simon. You have to mourn and let go."

"Lee shouldn't have died that night," Simon yelled at Adam around Ella, " _You_ should have, you bastard! You and your inability to listen to your superiors or follow their orders. You care for no one's skin but your own!" Simon's voice wavered.

"He was my friend too," Adam answered tightly, unable to say anything else to defend himself.

Simon cursed him in at least three different languages. With a scowl, Ella waved to Isaac and Adam, indicating they should leave. Isaac tugged on Adam's arm to get him moving. As they cleared the door, Adam yanked himself free of Isaac's grasp and mumbled, "Fuck off" before he stalked down the hall toward the stairs.

# Chapter 11

The dirty gray stone facade of the cheap nursing home loomed in front of Abhay, its cracked mortar and dark windows giving it a derelict, forbidding look. It was the third such building he'd moved Mark to in as many weeks.

He was out of options.

Straightening his black polo shirt and brushing lint from his khaki slacks, Abhay entered the building and stopped to sign in at the front desk. A bored-looking attendant glanced at him only long enough to note that he'd added his signature to the guest log and not enough to identify him. After completing the routine procedure, Abhay walked down the hall toward Mark's new room.

When Abhay stepped inside, Mark was sitting in a wheelchair under the window reading a book. He looked up when he heard Abhay walk in, but then looked down again after identifying him.

"Good evening, Mr. Smith," Abhay said in greeting.

"Could you have thought of something more original than Smith?" Mark's tone was dripping disdain.

"No," Abhay grumbled. "I had barely enough time to draw up the new paperwork and move you before Black showed up at the last nursing home. You're lucky I got you out of there in time. Name creativity was not high on my list of priorities."

As Abhay expected, Mark paled at the mention of Adam Black's name.

"What? Do you think I like up and moving you? You have no idea how hard it is to find nursing homes willing to look the other way when you bring an individual into their facilities for care." Abhay moved to sit on the bed and leaned in close to Mark. He addressed Mark quietly. "Truth be told, this is the last one."

"What do you mean 'last one'?"

"It means," Abhay said with a nod. "That as of today, you don't live here anymore."

"Where are you taking me this time?"

Abhay glanced out the window, ordering his thoughts before responding. "There's a flat—"

"Where?"

"Elephant and Castle." Mark huffed, and Abhay held his hand up in a stop signal, forestalling Mark's inevitable objections. "And before you deride it, be aware, this is one of my many personal residences." Albeit one of the worst. There was no way Abhay would take the highly sought-after Mark Prescott to his real home overlooking the Thames. "You will be living there, rent-free, and hopefully in relative security."

"Why?"

"Because, Mark," Abhay said with a smile he didn't feel. "You've been discharged." _...And we have less than an hour before Black arrives_. But Abhay didn't need to tell him that.

#  Chapter 12

Rachel placed her last pair of sweatpants into the small carryon bag she'd been given for their trip to Istanbul. She feared she'd be too warm—it _was_ August—but Adam assured her that the fortress would be chilly since most of it was underground and that she'd be fine wearing warm clothes. When Rachel finally stood up from her packing, her rib cage protested, and Rachel grimaced. A week after her beating and she still hurt enough to pop pain pills regularly.

After a sigh, Rachel zipped up her luggage, and then checked the bedroom one last time to confirm she hadn't forgotten anything. She snorted at the thought. Chances of her forgetting anything were slim to none since Rachel didn't own anything anymore. Still, she checked the bathroom, making sure she'd packed her toothbrush and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Frowning, she studied her black eye. _Urgh, I look like an abused wife_ , she thought, disgusted and wishing for some concealer.

As she left the bathroom, she heard a knock on her door. Rachel called out, "Come in! It's unlocked," thinking it was Adam or Zach, or maybe even Ella. The door opened to admit Simon. He ignored her, and instead, grabbed her bag with his signature scowl permanently in place, and then left the room. After her heartbeat slowed, she followed him out.

At the bottom of the stairs, she heard Adam's voice. "You need a haircut again."

"For god's sake, Black, leave my hair alone," replied a grumpy Zach. "It's not like I've had a chance to get it cut in the last two months." Rachel stepped into the hallway in time to see Zach bat Adam's arm away with his uninjured hand. It was true, she realized. His blond spikes had grown shaggy in the last few weeks. Zach brushed his hair from his eyes. "If you need to brush it from your eyes," Adam continued, "it's too long." Zach sighed, but Isaac's arrival on the scene prevented his retort.

Isaac scanned the hallway, his expression somber. When his eyes fell on her, Rachel tensed and glared back at him. Rachel hadn't forgiven him for putting her in isolation without so much as a by your leave. "Our flight is in two hours," Isaac announced in his usual holier-than-thou tone. "Where is Simon?"

"He walked out with our luggage," Zach told him, shrugging one shoulder.

"Without his trainee?" Isaac asked, his cheeks reddening. "My order—"

"You need to learn when to push and when not to, Isaac," Ella interrupted, walking up behind him and touching his shoulder. "I'm the one who ordered Simon to leave with the first car while we finished in here." Isaac glared at her, but before he could respond, Ella cut him off, "Trust me, Isaac. I know my _Hashashin_ , and right now, it's not a good time to have both Rachel and Simon in the same car, let alone Rachel, Zach, Adam, _and_ Simon."

"You baby them, Ella. We are not running a preschool with nap times and timeouts. I will not have personal feelings getting in the way of the duties we all are required to perform. Simon included."

Ella's lip thinned. "I know what I'm doing, and you will stay out of it." Gracefully, Ella stepped passed Isaac and went to the front door. Opening it, she scanned the surrounding area before ushering everyone outside and into a black limousine waiting for them in front of the building. Rachel climbed into the car and gave the compound one last look from the car's rear passenger window.

Zach nudged her. "You look lost. You okay?"

Rachel sighed and pushed the hood from her head. "Yeah. Sure." She faced Zach and tried to smile as Adam settled into the seat next to her. Isaac and Ella claimed seats across from them.

"I wonder what it will be like in Istanbul," she said, more to assuage her nerves than with genuine curiosity.

"Sunshine, happiness, and rainbows!" Zach chirped.

Adam snickered and added, "Busy." Ella snorted, and Isaac frowned. Adam continued with a diminished smile, "There are some ceremonies planned. A memorial for our fallen. Our trials. Once our official business concludes, and Zach's injury cleared, we will receive new assignments."

"Where?" Rachel inquired. "Do you know yet?"

Adam shared a look with Ella and then Isaac before responding, "No. Not yet."

"Well, I'm hoping to stay in Istanbul, and continue my training under your tutelage," Zach replied. "So, Adam, you better take that promotion."

"Promotion?" Rachel sat forward, eager for details.

Adam nodded and glanced outside. He seemed uncomfortable, and Rachel had the impression he was hiding something, but with everyone in the car, she didn't want to press him for answers. Besides, he promised to include her in any decision which affected her. So, instead of calling him on it, she relaxed against the seat and rested her forehead against the window. She let the sound of tires on wet pavement accompany her thoughts until they reached the airport.

After being released from the car, Rachel took a deep breath and adjusted her sweatshirt's hood, and as their party of ten entered Heathrow, Rachel hoped this flight would be nothing like the last one.

Half a day later, they had arrived in Istanbul with no mishaps, and the first thing Rachel noticed as she stepped outside of the Atatürk International airport was the tang of the sea in the air. It reminded her of the Clearwater airport in Florida on the few times she flew to visit her folks instead of driving—before she totaled her car and gave up driving altogether.

Rachel and Zach stood a few paces behind Isaac at the curb with their luggage, and Zach shifted his weight from foot to foot while they waited. Behind them stood Simon. Rachel wondered if Simon's proximity had added to Zach's fidgeting or if he was letting off steam after their flight. Regardless, the hushed conversation between Adam and Isaac had her attention.

When it ended, and Adam rejoined her, she asked, "Do we have a car in long term parking like we did in London?"

"No," he replied as he flicked his gaze to Simon behind her. "We'll take a taxi to the rendezvous point. Our drivers will be waiting for us there."

Drawing his gaze back to her with a touch to his arm, she queried, "How long will it take to get there?"

"An hour to reach the rendezvous and another forty-five for our destination." His expression lost some of its hardness. "I wish you could see it before we arrive, but only our drivers will."

"Why?"

"Blindfolded."

"Again? You know," she said. "I've been wearing blindfolds so often since meeting you, that you'd think it was a kink of mine."

Behind her, Zach stifled a laugh, and she overheard Simon's huff of aggravation. Adam half-smiled. "Well, if you say it is, I might be able to accommodate that." He wiggled his eyebrows, but then grew serious. "It's also for your protection. You cannot reveal that which you do not know."

"I know," she said, remembering all the information Mark gleaned from her when he'd strapped her to his machine.

Adam clasped her shoulders in his hands and rubbed. Rachel's heartbeat kicked up a notch. "You, all right?"

Rachel nodded.

"Good," Adam said, releasing her. "Because we're going to have to split up."

"Split up?"

"Yes. Our group is too big, and going in several cars makes it harder for the Org to track all of us."

"Okay," she murmured.

Adam frowned. "You aren't going to like this, but you are to ride with Dr. Campbell"—She sighed, relieved. There were worse things than being locked into a car with Dr. Campbell. It could have been Simon.—"and Jack."

Her shoulders tensed. _Inquisitor Jackass and Dr. Talk-forever-about-your-feelings Campbell_? She sighed. _Relax. They aren't Simon_. "Yeah. Okay. Sure."

Adam grabbed her bag at her feet and slung it over his shoulder. "You'll survive." He paused, seriousness returned to his expression. "You ready to go?"

She nodded. "Yes."

After she clambered into the taxi with the others and settled, Adam addressed the driver, " _Hadi gidelim_." Rachel had no idea what he said but guessed it was something about leaving because the driver nodded, and moments after Adam shut her door, the driver pulled into traffic.

Rachel sighed and looked out her window. At least she had an hour or two to see what she could of Istanbul before being sequestered away.

Again.

***

As the taxi rolled to a stop in a church parking lot, Jackass barked, "Hood up," before flipping his and climbing out of the vehicle. Rachel followed him and stood near her door, not sure what she should do as she waited for the other cars to pull into the lot.

When Adam exited his taxi, she joined him. He gave her his usual haughty smile and put his arm around her waist, pulling her close. After a nose to nose kiss and a muttered "get a room" from Zach, he released her to speak with his brother. They spoke a different language, and after a few moments, Rachel grew bored and drifted away to take in their surroundings. While she explored, several dark silver sedans pulled into the lot with windows tinted to the point they were almost black.

One of the cars rolled to a stop in front of her, Inquisitor Jackass stepped forward and opened the door. After everyone settled, the driver handed Jackass, Dr. Campbell, and herself a blindfold.

Rachel eyeballed the colorful fabric as she took it from him. "If I bought a nice silk sleep mask for myself, would that work as a blindfold, or does it _have_ to be an Order issued one?" The driver snorted. "I mean, as long as my eyes are covered, anything would do, right? Because, if I'm going to wear one of these all the time, then it would be nice to have one that slides on and off without snagging in my hair," she added, wincing. "Like now would be nice," she mumbled as she tried to free the strands of her hair stuck in the newly made knot at the back of her head.

Silence reigned.

They'd been in the car for ten or so minutes when the air immediately cooled in the car, and her skin no longer registered the heat of the sun. Rachel shivered at its disappearance. When the sun never seemed to return, Rachel asked, "Are we in a tunnel?"

"Yes," Jackass replied. "And we will be for the rest of our trip."

"Then, can I take off the blindfold?"

"No."

But a tunnel meant she couldn't see, and if she couldn't see? "Why not? I can't give away a location if I don't know where it is."

Someone sighed.

"The headlights will illuminate our path," Jackass said.

_Well, duh! But_? "What does that matter. I don't know how to get here,"—she said, pointing to her car seat—"so seeing the turns inside a tunnel won't matter."

"We cannot take that chance."

Dr. Campbell added, "As the city encroaches on our land, it becomes harder and harder to hide our destination's true purpose. The outer walls are left to ruin, but we built these tunnels to hide our arrival from prying eyes."

"I still don't see how wearing the blindfold _now_ will help. I'm in the tunnel with no knowledge of how I got here."

Someone sighed again.

"We can't let you see. We can't risk the Org learning anything about these tunnels," Jackass answered.

"Circular logic is circular," Rachel muttered sarcastically.

"Excuse me?" Jackass asked, his tone brisk.

"Your logic makes no sense," Rachel exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. "Knowing a path once inside the tunnel doesn't matter if the Org. doesn't know how I got _in_ here."

"The Organization was once part of the Order," Dr. Campbell said. "That's why it matters."

His statement halted her thoughts. _Part of the—Whoa! What_? Rachel's mouth dropped open. Before she could fully absorb this latest information, Dr. Campbell continued, "It's something the Order doesn't like to acknowledge."

"Enough," Jackass barked.

"But—"

"No," Jackass replied.

"Come on, guys!" Rachel exclaimed, excited for the possibility to learn something new. "Trust is a two-way street. For better or for worse, I'm a member of your group. How the hell am I to ever learn your ways and adopt your mission as my own—as I swore to do!—if no one will talk to me or explain it!"

An awkward silence filled the car.

"She has a point," the driver said. "Someone should tell her."

_Thank you, nameless driver_! Rachel made a mental note to learn his name and to thank him later.

Someone sighed.

_Don't pull a muscle there_ , Rachel thought to the sigher as she rolled her eyes behind her blindfold.

"The group we now call the Organization dissociated itself from us in the eighteenth century," Campbell said.

"Okay." Darius and others had told her that already, and Rachel craved something new. "Why?"

After a few moments, when no one answered, she revised her question. Order members, as she'd learned, responded better to straight forward questions, rather than to the more open-ended bids she usually favored.

"What caused them to break off and why didn't you guys"—Rachel waved her arm in their general direction since she couldn't see them and managed to land a smack against Jackass's stomach, or at least, she hoped it was his stomach—"do something about it?"

Dr. Campbell replied, "By the time the split happened, the rogue faction was too large for the Order to control. Quietly."

"Too many to kill, you mean," Rachel interjected, but they ignored her jab.

"And then, no one realized how much of a problem they would become."

She tapped her fingers on her thigh, thinking about her next question. "What caused the schism?"

"The age of Enlightenment," the driver replied with a chuckle. "Even the Order couldn't keep living in a bubble."

"New philosophers were calling for the betterment of mankind," Dr. Campbell resumed his explanation. "Men like Rousseau, Hobbes—"

"You know, the humanists," the driver supplied.

" _Some_ ," Dr. Campbell said over the driver. "inside the Order heard the message and started thinking the artifacts—our relics—should be studied for this goal. It caused a rift that has lasted all these years."

"It was a fight between ones who wanted to leave the artifacts alone and those who wanted to study and used them," the driver confirmed.

"In the end, the acting _Polemarchos_ refused," Jackass said, his tone hard.

Dr. Campbell once again talked over him to explain, "Unable to reach a compromise, some people needed elimination and others, silenced. This horrified many in the Order. _Hashashin_ had _never_ been used to assassinate our people before. It was an ugly period in our history. By the time the split occurred, those people who were once friends and colleagues had become mortal enemies. The rogue members had no difficulty recruiting new sympathizers from the Order's ranks."

Rachel stared in Jackass's general direction. She'd intended to be flip in her earlier quip about killing the enemy and was horrified to find she'd been right. Though in hindsight, Rachel should have known. The thought of _Hashashin_ being used to kill other Order agents, regardless of how ugly the argument had become between the two sides, was appalling. Not to mention, she wasn't too sure the rebels had been in the wrong. The artifacts should be studied and understood. Just, not used.

"The _Polemarchos_ couldn't contain the movement," Dr. Campbell continued, "and the Organization was born."

"Were the rogues living here—in this fortress?" Rachel asked.

"Yes," Dr. Campbell replied.

"Then how can its location be a secret?" she asked, exasperated. "Wouldn't someone somewhere inside the Org. know?"

"Maybe," Dr. Campbell responded, "I'll grant you, it is probably a false hope to think the Org doesn't have a record of the fortress's location, but we keep it well protected with the hope that the memory is lost."

The car grew quiet.

After a few minutes and several direction changes, Rachel said, "Well, that's stupid."

The driver snorted.

Rachel continued, "Blindfolding non-combatants—like myself—in the vain hope that if we're captured the Org. won't learn the location of a fortress they probably already know where to find, is rather idiotic."

"Yup," the driver answered.

"Okay. Sure," Rachel said.

"No one has attempted to breach our defenses, and we have no proof that the information exists on their side," Dr. Campbell replied. "but, you are right, they probably do have some record of our location."

"It would be foolish to believe the Org doesn't," Rachel grumbled to herself. How could a group of super-secret killers have such a blinded mentality toward their biggest weakness?

"Okay. Sure," Rachel said louder, and because she couldn't let go of an illogical argument, she added, "You have a huge plot hole in your logic."

Rachel heard someone sigh, but now she was positive it was Inquisitor Jackass. Changing the subject, she asked the next question to pop into her mind, "When that other faction left the Order, they ran away with some of your artifacts, didn't they?"

Dr. Campbell affirmed her query, "We believe that is where the technology they release comes from."

"But we don't know that for certain," the driver added.

"True," Dr. Campbell said. "We don't know if they have found a previously hidden cache of their very own."

"Cache?" Rachel asked, but remembered Zach had said something similar about securing multiple locations of artifacts.

"They need to be stopped at all cost," Jackass bit out. "One day, they'll release something so dangerous it will be catastrophic."

"Cache?" she repeated. How many caches were there? How big was the problem?

"We control six," the driver answered.

"But we don't know if that is all of them," Jackass added, and a shiver chased up Rachel's spine.

#  Chapter 13

With a curse, Abhay slammed the door to the locker room. The violent action shook the walls and echoed in the stillness of the empty building. Abhay cursed again and pivoted slowly, relaxing against the blue matted wall in what had to have been a training room and slid his phone from his pocket. Since searching the compound was a bust, he had to reevaluate his next steps. Of course, getting to Istanbul to follow up on Simon's search for his USB drive would be at the top of that list—He needed those documents!—but to do so, he'd have to clear his business calendar of all outstanding sales.

"Status?" he barked into the phone when his contact answered.

"You received a new bid for the device schematics. A different buyer this time."

"Oh?" New was unexpected, but not surprising. There were plenty of "bad guys" in the world.

"The bid is double the amount of your first," his contact supplied.

Abhay swallowed back his hum of excitement. The promise of what the frequency generator could do was proving to be a much better investment than even Abhay had expected, and usually, he was a good judge of value. "And for the officer's name?" Abhay inquired.

"Still firm on the original offer."

Well, that wouldn't do. Abhay smiled. He suspected that his new buyer for the schematics was the same one who wanted the name.

Time to up the ante. "Deny all bids."

"Sir?"

"Deny all bids," Abhay repeated. If his hunch were correct, the buyer would take his bait. They almost had to. "Quote both buyers triple the current starting bid." If they reacted as expected, he would get a counteroffer slightly less than his new price. Anything less than a cool three million pounds, and he'd tell his winning bidder, no deal. All it did was prove that the FGRT-334 was worth the escalating amount, and Abhay would try again with a different market.

"Consider it done, sir."

"I'll reach out to you in four days," Abhay acknowledged.

"Understood," his middleman replied, disconnecting.

Abhay immediately disassembled his phone to retrieve the SIM from it, destroying the link between his contact and himself. Finished, he straightened with a grimace and headed for the door. He had one more stop to make before he could initiate the next stage of his plan.

He was not looking forward to it.

***

Out front of the apartment where Abhay had stashed Mark, stood Abhay and Liz. Her hand was fisted tightly around Abhay's.

It was sticky and damp.

He wished she'd let go.

"My daddy's in there?!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Abhay sighed. This had to have been her ten-thousandth "why" since he picked her up from her private school. "Because your daddy is staying with me for a while."

Liz glanced at him and then the run-down building. Her nose scrunched in distaste. "I don't believe you," she announced with a haughty air, and Abhay rolled his eyes.

_Spoiled brat_.

Gently urging her forward, he said, "Why don't you go inside and check?"

Liz dropped his hand, crossed her arms, and said with a pout, "No."

"For Fu— really?" Abhay began, correcting himself mid-expletive. Children were not his forte. Give him an unfindable object, and he'd succeed each time. Put him in a room with a kid, and they'd both be in tears within minutes. "Your dad is staying with me while he recovers," Abhay said with as much calm as he could muster.

Liz's frown turned contemplative. "But... If he's sick, why isn't he at home?"

"Because," Abhay said, drawing out the word while he scrambled to find an answer which wouldn't destroy her innocent world view—he didn't know if Mark made a habit of shielding her from the more risqué aspects of the Organization's day to day business or not. "He was hurt and can't stay at home by himself."

Liz studied Abhay for a moment but eventually broke eye contact to stare at the apartment's door. "Why didn't he hire a nurse?"

"He did, but she was too expensive, so he let her go and asked me to help instead."

Shaking her head, Liz negated his statement. "You're lying. He wouldn't do that. Daddy has all the money in the world. And," Liz stressed the word. "If he needed more, he'd just ask grandma!"

Abhay refrained—with difficulty—from covering his eyes with his hand in an epic facepalm. Even if the Org. weren't orchestrating his death, the last person on Earth Mark Prescott wanted help from was his mother-in-law. Abhay shuddered. He'd sooner go without food and shelter than ask that woman for anything.

"Just..." He sighed. "Just go inside, please?!"

Liz held still for a few more moments, and Abhay feared he'd have to carry her, but then she finally relented and entered the dwelling. As she stepped inside the small one-bedroom apartment, she let out a mighty squeal, "Daddy!" And in a blur of motion, she was across the room, bounding into Mark's lap heedless of his injury.

A small part of Abhay wished he felt joy at their reunion, it had been weeks since they'd seen each other, but all he could think about was his relief. Abhay was off the hook. Mark had to field all her questions now!

Leaving them to their own devices for a bit, Abhay went to the small kitchen to prepare a light evening meal. Liz's high-pitched voice a constant backdrop to his activity. Occasionally, Abhay found himself startled when Mark would reply, his deep timbre providing a dissociative response each time.

Finally finished, Abhay brought plates and food to the duo. After setting it down, Abhay indicated they should eat, and said, "I've upheld my end. Your turn. Tell me about the FGRT-334."

Mark turned a light shade of green and glanced at Liz. "Later." Liz smiled up at him before taking another bite from her sandwich, unconcerned.

"No, now," Abhay demanded.

Mark shook his head. "I _will_ tell you, but not now. Later."

"When later? And you better not mean _never_."

Again, Mark shook his head. "Nine?" he volunteered, though with the inflection at the end, Abhay didn't know if Mark meant it as a statement or a question.

"Nine," Abhay confirmed, standing. "Enjoy your meal," he added. He'd come back later. There was no way on earth he'd be able to sit in that little apartment with a chattering Liz for another hour, let alone the four which remained before the appointed time.

Slipping out the door, he left to do other errands. When the hour of nine approached, Abhay returned to his small decoy-flat at Elephant and Castle. Quieting his steps, he first confirmed the apartment was as he left it. _In other words_ , Abhay thought wryly, _no Hashashin hiding in the shadows ready to jump out at the slightest provocation_. Though he supposed, with Adam Black in Istanbul, he could rest a little easier.

Entering quietly, he closed the door and found a seat near Mark, who sat on Abhay's ratty couch with his elbows on his knees and his hands buried in his hair.

"It's nine," Abhay announced as if Mark needed the reminder.

Mark swallowed hard. In halting starts, he said, "No one should have possession of a weapon that devastating."

So, it was a weapon as Abhay had thought. Jorge had been a bit ambiguous with his details. "I'm not planning on possessing it." _...Yet_. But since Mark all but confirmed a prototype existed, Abhay would be remiss in his mission if he wasn't already scheming about how to acquire it for future sale.

"Don't be coy, Abhay. I know you—"

"I'm not," Abhay interrupted Mark to offer his reassurances. "All I want to know"— _Right now_ —"is what you have found out about the device. What does it do?"

Mark shook his head in apparent disbelief. "You don't know?"

"Of course not," Abhay scoffed. He had an active imagination, though, and had formulated several assumptions.

"It amplifies soundwaves to a frequency humans cannot hear"— _didn't I read about something like that..._ —"Like a singer hitting the right note to break wine glasses,"— _Wait, is he talking about that bombing..._ —"The generator will shake and shatter anything in its path." Mark swallowed. "Everything is destroyed."

Abhay sat up straighter.

"Are you referring to that village in Russia?"

"Yes," Mark replied, defeated.

Mark was talking about it!

Abhay remembered a report he'd found. It was carefully buried under a mile of bureaucratic bullshite and disguised as a traditional military debriefing. He remembered finding it curious and had read that the first testing of the device had leveled an entire town. Everyone within a mile radius had died violently. Their very molecules were shaken apart until all that remained was a mess of human tissues and fluids in the dirt.

Abhay hadn't realized the FGRT-334, and the report was the same.

"I read that there was a second test and that someone from the Organization died. What happened?" Abhay asked eagerly.

Mark glared at him but complied in his retelling without Abhay having to prompt him further. "It wasn't a second test. It was the same one."

"Oh?"

"A guard handling the generator accidentally popped open the back of the weapon. His thumb slipped inside as he caught it. We learned—later—that when we turned the generator on for the village,"—Mark stopped, shuddered, and grimaced.—"Well, the weapon used the DNA signature from the guard's skin cells to identify him as a target. His body made a muffled popping sound seconds before his body leaked blood from all his orifices."

"Messy," Abhay quipped.

Mark glared at Abhay as he continued, "Further testing allowed us to determine what happened. It turns out the weapon can handle multiple molecular signatures at one time: plant, animal, or mineral, and target each individually regardless of sample quantity."

_Astounding_! No wonder bidders sought after the device! Imagine, being able to kill your opponent in a crowded room with only a cell sample and no risk of collateral damage. Now that he knew about the device, he needed to get his hands on it. It was the perfect way for him to follow through with his promise to Fitzgerald should the _Hashashin_ ever deliver on his half of the bargain. "Where is it?"

Mark shook his head, vigorously. "No. It's too unstable, too dangerous. You can't have it," Mark vehemently denied. "I won't let you sell it to the highest bidder. Don't you care that criminals might use it?"

Abhay's eyebrow rose.

Sure, he cared, but even a ballpoint pen could be used as a weapon if one were determined enough, and Abhay didn't see anyone lining up to stem societies blatant pen usage. Besides, by all intents and purposes, Mark _was_ a criminal, for that matter, so was Abhay. Abhay shrugged, unwilling to be swept up in the minutiae of that thought. "No, I don't. If the money's good, I don't ask too many questions. It's better that way."

"You're a terrorist."

"I'm a businessman."

"You disgust me," Mark spat.

"And you disgust me," Abhay countered.

They were silent for several beats. Finally, after a quick calculation of the risk, Abhay forged on, "Where did you hide the FGRT?" Mark turned his head away to gaze through the window, not answering. The message was clear; he wasn't ready to talk. "That's okay," Abhay replied, grinning. Like most people, Mark was unimaginative when it came time to conceal his precious belongings. Abhay could take a few solid guesses as to where Mark may have hidden something of the FGRT-334's nature. "I'll check your safe in the basement of Luminations Corp. downtown. You know, the one hidden behind some storage boxes, over by the elevator shaft."

"Leave it alone," Mark sputtered, confirming Abhay's guess.

_Too easy_! Where was the challenge? Abhay hadn't even had to mention the hidden cabinet in Mark's office bookshelf, or the false drawer in his laboratory desk, or even the loose stair riser at his country estate. "Is the combo still 7-9-1-8-3?"

"Drop it."

"Not a chance." Abhay leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. "Do you have any idea how much money I can get for it? Hell, I'm getting three million pounds for the mechanical drawings—"

Mark's cheeks drained of all their remaining color. "You didn't—"

"Of course, I did," Abhay said with a smile.

"But you said you needed my help in recreating the research."

"I did," Abhay agreed with a curt nod. "But I've found them"—or near enough, once Fitzgerald made good on his end—"And the best part of it is, the Order's helping me retrieve them."

#  Chapter 14

It had been an indeterminant amount of time between when Rachel had donned the blindfold, and the car entered the tunnel entrance. She was tired of waiting and was about to ask how much longer when Rachel felt the car slow. It was a different motion than the past few times the car had decelerated for the twists and turns, so she thought maybe, finally, they were there. As the car rolled to a stop, she asked eagerly, "Can I take the blindfold off now?"

Jackass's answer was a clipped, "Yes."

_Oh, thank god_!

Whipping off the offending fabric, she hissed in pain as the knot pulled out several strands of hair. But she was finally free of the blindfold!

Looking around, the first thing she noticed was the bright sunlight streaming through an archway on the other side of the underground parking lot. The second thing she spied was Adam. He stood step, which led up to a carved marble archway. His gaze met hers, and he smiled, beckoning her closer. Eagerly, she left her car to join him and the others.

The archway opened to a courtyard of sorts. There were potted plants all around the perimeter, and in nooks along each carved marble wall, an entrance led out into what appeared to be hallways beyond. At Rachel's feet, was a floor covered in an elaborate, tiled mosaic, and a ceiling painted a vibrant gold color which helped reflect the sunlight streaming through several strategically placed skylights. It was as if she stood in a museum.

She closed her mouth with an audible snap.

A gruff, booming voice dragged her attention back to where Isaac and Adam were standing. "Haddad! Black! Fitzgerald! Good to see you," the man bellowed. He had to weigh twice what Rachel did, and as she'd come to expect from all Order agents, he looked physically fit and ready to attack Org members in an instant. He had short brown hair, which shimmered with a slight red when he strode through the pools of sunlight. Upon reaching them, the man tossed both beefy arms around Isaac and Adam's shoulders, pulling them tight. "And this must be Alexander," the man said, dragging Isaac and Adam along as he strode toward Zach. Rachel stifled her chuckle behind her hand. Their expressions were priceless at the indignity of it all!

"That's enough, Bartholomew. Let me go," Adam said. His tone was gruff, but even she could hear the amusement Adam tried to hide behind the angry words.

Bartholomew stopped in his tracks, and released them, stepping back. "Now, see what you went and did, Black! You know I hate that name. Now I'll never hear the end of it from them," he added, thumbing Rachel's direction.

Well, there was something she could do about that, Rachel thought. Taking a step forward, she extended her hand to the big bear of a man. "Oh, I think he knows exactly what he did," Rachel said, hoping to lighten the situation. When he grabbed her palm and shook, she greeted, "I'm Rachel. It's nice to meet you." Rachel paused, hoping he'd volunteer his preferred name.

"Bart!" he supplied in the space she'd left open for him.

"Bart," she finished, grinning.

"It is good to meet you finally," Bart added, once again back to his boisterous self. Rachel smiled. His exuberance was refreshing. So much better than the taciturn, silent appraisal she usually received.

Interrupting the introductions, Adam asked, "Did _Antipolemarchos_ Valis leave you in charge of logistics again?"

Bart sighed and nodded. "Refused to leave you cars at the checkpoint even though we know you could find your way here. Made more work for me with all the comings and goings this week." He spoke a little quieter, "I have your rooms all set up." Bart turned to Isaac. "Haddad, you're in the _Stratigos_ wing B." Handing Mori a stack of keys, Bark continued, "Mori, you are with the other _Lokhagos_ in Q. Everyone else who isn't titled, I set up in Agent wing L."

"Are the _Hashashin_ in the standard guest wing?" Adam asked, futzing with his vambrace.

"No. Black, I set you, Fitzgerald, and the trainees, up in the _Hashashin_ wing E. We don't use it much. Should be pretty quiet for you."

Adam looked up. "Oh?"

"We have several guests in attendance and are expecting more. I figured you'd want some privacy—seeing as to why you are here and all." Bart turned and winked at her.

Rachel sighed. Did everyone have to know why she was here in Istanbul? "Why are there so many guests?" she asked, genuinely curious and eager to shift the conversation away from her and Adam's supposed sex life.

"Well, Munro," Bart addressed her, clearly ignoring her first name introduction. "Many are here or will be arriving soon for the _Hashashin_ memorial ceremony."—Rachel nodded in understanding at the reminder—"I regret to inform you, it is strictly a _Hashashin_ family affair." Rachel wondered if she could go regardless. She was practically family now, especially if Adam made good on his petition to date her. "Well, Haddad," Bart said. "you know the way. Did you have luggage? Do you need help?"

"No. I can manage," Isaac replied, shifting his bag in his grip.

"Very well, then. I'll leave you to find your room." Bart handed him a key and turned back to Rachel's significantly smaller group. "Shall I lead the way, or do you have it?" He asked Adam.

"I think I can find it," Adam answered, smirking.

"Figured you might," Bart said as he handed out the rest of the keys to each of them before smiling and saying good-bye.

Adam turned toward her and took her carryon from her grasp. He tossed it over his shoulder and led the way down the hall, presumably toward the rooms where they would be staying. When she looked back to check if Simon was following, he was no longer behind her.

***

Rachel's first night in Istanbul had been uneventful but not nearly as restful as she had hoped. The room was all right—more than all right actually, it was gorgeous—but the old fortress was full of unfamiliar noises. Every clank and bang startled her awake. After the fifth time, she had given up, opting to explore instead.

After dressing, she stuck her head out her door and checked the hall. Seeing no one, she stepped from her room. As she pulled her door closed, she taped her pocket, confirming both her key and the ever-present USB drive were ensconced inside.

A zing of guilt twinged in her heart. Rachel should have handed over that drive by now, but concern had her hesitating. She'd already held onto it for so long. What would the Order think if Rachel finally brought it to them now? Would they believe she had simply kept it in hopes of finding the right moment to hand it over, or would they think she had been willfully disobedient, refusing to let the Order have it and the secrets it held?

She shook her head and shoved the thought aside. "Time to explore," she muttered under her breath. "Which way should I go? Both ways look the same." In the end, she chose to go left merely for the reason it seemed lighter.

Walking the halls, Rachel let herself enjoy the architecture. The building had historic charm, even with its modern plumbing and electricity. There were sculptures, hallways full of skylights, and inner courtyards, open to the sky, but for all the airiness, no windows were looking out over the city. She'd known this to be the case but found it saddening regardless.

As she entered one of the vegetation filled courtyards, an older gentleman stepped up beside her. He appeared to be in his mid-sixties, with gray hair bordering on white. She could see he was still fit and trim in a way that didn't match his visible age. He was wearing jeans and a simple short-sleeve polo shirt and had a leather bracer on his right arm.

_Hashashin_? Didn't these people ever retire?

"Hello, Miss," he greeted, nodding her way.

"Rachel, if you don't mind." Rachel smiled at him; he seemed kind enough, but she wondered if he was about to lead her back to her room. "Everyone here is so formal. It makes me uncomfortable."

"Unfortunately, we do adhere to formalities here within the Order, but if you wish for me to call you Rachel, then I will do so."

"Thank you," Rachel said, hoping he'd introduce himself.

"Anton."

"Mister?" she asked, unsure if Anton was a surname or not. Anton shook his head, and Rachel amended her statement. She assumed his negation meant that the name he supplied was his first. "Anton, am I being escorted back to my room?"

His rich laugh echoed in the halls. "No, Miss. Rachel, you are free to wander to your heart's content. Our secrets guard themselves." After a pause, he added, "How are you enjoying your mentorship? You came on board quite abruptly. Are you adjusting well?"

She grimaced. Did Anton know all about her sex life too? "Well enough, I guess."

Anton swept his arm aside, inviting her to follow him. "Sometimes, it can be difficult to feel welcomed by the Order. For example, I am certain no one has offered you a guided tour of our fortress. May I be permitted the honor?"

"Sure." Rachel grinned and fell into step beside him. She liked this _Hashashin_. He seemed genuinely kind, and, compared to the agents in London, he didn't appear to regard her as if she were somehow part of some evil plot against the Order or some useless groupie out to bed the star. It was a refreshing change after weeks of being treated with suspicion and scorn.

"This place is a real maze," she said after a bit.

He chuckled in amusement, "So it is. It was built during the general rebuild of the city back in 1454. Building planners of the day did not have the same eye to functionality as modern architects do." Anton pointed to the steps at their feet. "Our elders moved each stone from the Fortress's prior location to settle here. It's on a hill, and those are easier to defend. There are several built-in fortifications—like that one,"—Anton said, indicating an alcove with a bench. It didn't look like anything to Rachel, but she trusted Anton. —"from that time."

"All this to protect alien technology?" Rachel asked.

"Yes."

"When did all of this," she swept her arms out, "happen?"

"Do you question the Fortress's construction or about the founding of _the Order of the Guardians for God_?"

"The Order."

Anton's expression warmed as he launched into an explanation. It was refreshing having a man in power answer her questions instead of brushing her aside. "Per our archives, in 1096, a group of crusaders were lost in the wilderness during a storm, fell into a cave, and discovered what they called in awe and fear _God's Workshop_ or _God's Library_." Rachel stopped walking, leaning forward to listen closer to Anton's explanation. "When they rejoined their commanders in Constantinople, they were babbling of sacred missions, heaven, and hell under the Earth. Consequently, they met scorn and disbelief."

"I would guess so," Rachel interjected.

"The crusader army left soon after, leaving only a small group of men behind to investigate the wild claims. Of course, the Order wouldn't exist today if that cave had been only a figment of their imaginations." Rachel nodded. "For the group of men, looking on the magnificence of what they had found, the Crusade was over. They had a new mission: protect the cave and all its God-like relics no matter the cost.

"And that, dear one, is how the Order of the Guardians for God was born."

"That is... Wow..." Rachel responded, awed, and at a loss.

"Quite interesting?" Anton supplied.

"Exactly."

"It is indeed, Miss Rachel."

He seemed open, so she asked another question which weighed on her mind, "On my ride to the fortress, Jack-aah-ck and Dr. Campbell said there was more than one of these caves. They called them caches."

"Yes," Anton affirmed.

"They said the Org. might have found some you didn't control."

"Yes."

Rachel wasn't sure if he had confirmed her question or if he just agreed with her. "Do they?" she asked, hoping to clarify?

"Yes."

"How can that be? How many caves are there?"

Anton grew quiet a moment, but it didn't feel stiff or angry. No, it felt like a pregnant pause, one filled with the promise of more information. The pressure of his silence built until finally, it burst.

"Some of our agents have studied the locations. There appeared to be no reason for any of their placements, but one of our more entrepreneurial researchers found a correlation with ancient topography. Pangea—You are familiar with the term, yes?—" Rachel nodded. "All of our discoveries can be traced to defensible locations on that geological plain. It stands to reason that whatever brought these items to our planet had a military mind."

"Gives the Order a plan for finding all the stashes and securing them, right?"

"Yes," Anton said and paused as if he heard something.

Rachel glanced around, seeing nothing, yet surprised to find they stood a small, brightly lit courtyard. It was open to the sky via skylights. _Are those butterflies_? Rachel looked closer. _They are_!

"Alas, our time ends," Anton said. Rachel shifted her attention back to him. "We have two visitors, and I believe one of them is for you. Regretfully, the other is one I need to address personally."

Rachel nodded. "Okay, Anton. It was nice speaking with you."

"Likewise, Miss. Rachel," he said, turning toward the archway, clearly waiting. A moment later, Adam and Darius appeared.

Darius gave the man at her side a deep head nod, and Adam greeted Anton with a "Sir." Rachel glanced over at Anton. The two men's honorifics to Anton made her wonder who he was within the Order. She'd never seen Adam so differential before. It kind of scared her.

Anton greeted, "Mr. Darius, Mr. Black." and stepped toward Darius. As they walked away, Rachel could hear them speaking quietly, and they both left the courtyard toward duties unknown. Turning to Adam, Rachel shook her head, amused, and impressed at Anton's skill with knowing the two men were approaching. She never heard a sound. As she joined Adam, he hugged her and asked, "Sleep well?"

"No."

Adam chuckled. "I figured you hadn't; this being a new place and all." He clasped her hand in his, tugging her toward a different archway. "Come," he said. "I'll show you more of the Fortress."

***

With her extremely old, yet newly acquired, laptop under her arm and the infamous USB drive in hand, Rachel headed for the small alcove near her room. It was an excellent place to hide: quiet, enclosed on three sides, it even had a padded bench. It was perfect for her needs. She was nearly there when an angry, disembodied voice stopped her. "...but if I see it, I'll contact you."

Simon.

"The insufferable prick..." Simon muttered.

Rachel searched for a hiding place. Being caught eavesdropping, especially by Simon, would be a terrible thing. She took a step backward, hoping to bolt back to her room, right as he popped out of her targeted alcove.

Their gazes locked, and his face paled; his eyes shifted from left to right before focusing on her again. His expression turned hard. He looked? _Guilty_ , she thought, squeezing her hand tight around the USB drive in her palm. She hoped he couldn't see it, and prayed she didn't have a similar look of guilt plastered across her face.

"Why are you following me? What did you hear?" he barked and took a menacing step toward her. "Tell me," he growled, making Rachel flinch.

"Noth-Nothing."

"You—" Simon began, but before he could complete his sentence, a new voice cut him off.

"Back off, Simon. I don't know what your game is, but leave her out of it. She is no longer your concern."

_Adam_! She wondered when he had arrived. She hadn't heard anyone approach, and surprisingly, it would seem, neither had Simon. A moment later, Adam wrapped his arm around her waist, and murmured, "Are you all right?" into her ear. Rachel nodded and locked her knees to prevent herself from sagging against him in relief. She didn't know much about Simon, but she did know he had _issues_ with visible weakness.

"Good!" Adam tapped the laptop in her arms, completely ignoring Simon. "You free? There are some people I'd like you to meet in the cafeteria."

"Oh? Who?" Rachel asked as she deliberately turned her back on Simon, praying he wouldn't start a fight over the dismissive move.

"Just some friends of mine," Adam said, releasing her, and taking the laptop from her arms.

Rachel shoved the USB drive into her pocket. She didn't think Adam noticed her hide the device—he'd turned away already—but when Rachel glanced back at Simon. Well, Simon's scowl sent shivers of dread up her spine.

#  Chapter 15

Abhay laughed as he hung up the phone.

As tired as Fitzgerald was with Abhay's persistence, Abhay didn't give a flying rat's arse. He still needed those schematics, and he was positive this recruit "Rachel" had them.

Setting his disposable phone on the surface of the grimy bar's booth, he picked up the strange squirt bottle contraption. His gloved finger caressed the barrel, noting the small "door" where the guard must have slipped, leaving behind his DNA. Abhay shifted the device. His finger closing over the trigger. A fresh chuckle churned in his chest. _A squirt bottle_! Who would have thought it capable of leveling a town and liquifying a guard? It _looked_ like something you'd use to correct your misbehaving cat.

Abhay pointed it at a bar stool. "Bad cat," he murmured. "Bad."

The FGRT-334 was nothing like he'd expected, but, he had to admit, the innocuous shape was perfect. No one, not even the agents at the customs booth in the airport, realized what Abhay had brought on board his international flight. If they had, well, there would probably be new procedures and regulations enacted to prevent squirt bottles at all the major transportation hubs.

Abhay set the device down and took a sip of his water.

He had the device.

He was in Istanbul.

He had secured the four hundred-million-pound bid for the drawings and name. Now, all he needed were the schematics and some DNA from Adam Black.

Abhay would have rubbed his hands together in glee if it hadn't looked so cliché.

#  Chapter 16

As breakfast ended, everyone split up and went off to do their own very-important-errands, leaving Rachel with Adam's _friends_.

Darius, Lin-ru—Darius's stunningly beautiful wife—and Rowan, Darius's son, were preparing to leave. Standing, Lin-ru touched Rachel's forearm. "He won't get away with it. We are pursuing disciplinary actions."

Rachel touched her cheekbone, where the faded, yet heavily makeup covered bruise, still bothered her. "What do you mean, 'Get away with it'?"

"I mean, Mr. Fitzgerald is no longer your mentor," Lin-ru replied. "Darius has graciously taken the post due to your unusual recruitment history and subsequent treatment."

As the blush took over Rachel's cheeks, her gaze drifted to Darius. "I-I don't... You're my new mentor? Why? I don't mind Simon"— _much_ —"We're doing much better now." _...Because I don't speak to him_.

Darius nodded once. "That may be, but _Antipolemarchos_ Valis felt it would be prudent to separate you, and I agreed."

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis? The grandmaster himself made the change? "Oh, Okay," Rachel said, agreeing, even though the news sent her thoughts reeling. How had he known? She supposed he received regular reports, but Darius and Lin-ru's words implied a more personal involvement. So that meant she'd met him. But when? How? Rachel shook her head. It didn't make sense.

"Come along, Ro," Lin-ru urged as they left the cafeteria. Addressing Rachel, she said, "Of course, Darius is quite busy. "That is why _Antipolemarchos_ Valis has given his permission for a surrogate mentor to take over for when Darius is unavailable." _Great_! Rachel thought, her mental voice dripped sarcasm. _Another poor sucker saddled with my training_. When would they stop pawning her off onto others? "Adam will resume your training later today."

_Wait. What_? "Adam?"

"Yes," Darius responded.

"But I thought..."

"Yes?" Darius prompted when her silence dragged on too long.

"I thought he couldn't be my mentor due to the 'permission' thingy-ma-jig he wants to do."

" _Antipolemarchos_ Valis has waived that particular limitation."

"Okay..." Rachel replied, but then thought better of letting it go, "Why?" Darius shared a look with Lin-ru. Rachel knew what that look meant. It meant the child—her, in this instance—was asking questions they didn't know how to or didn't want to answer. Sighing, she let them off the hook. "Never mind. Forget, I asked." Changing the subject, Rachel said, "So what happens next?"

"You will resume normal training, and after the trial, you, Zachary, and Black will have to choose where you'll go for your next assignment."

"Possibly here," Rachel stated, referencing the enigmatic conversation on their drive to the airport in London.

"Possibly here," Darius repeated.

"And the status of the petition?" Rachel asked, mentally glossing over her fear of the trial and her disappointment in knowing she couldn't attend the memorial.

"That is still under review with _Antipolemarchos_ Valis."

Rachel nodded and glanced at Lin-ru, who was talking in quiet tones with Rowan. "Did you two, do it? Did you petition to be together?"

Lin-ru straightened and patted Rowan on his tush in the universal mother signal to skedaddle. "Yes," Lin-ru replied before Darius could.

"What is the point of it?" Rachel asked. "Adam tried to explain, but he didn't make much sense."

"You wish to handle this?" Darius queried Lin-ru. She shook her head, and Darius sighed. Addressing Rachel again, he continued, "To be perfectly blunt the Order enacted the law centuries ago to keep the _Hashashin_ line pure. Historically, family lineages were traced and studied to provide the strongest pairings. Relationships arranged for the Order's advantage. But, as the Order grew more modern, that aspect of the permission ritual died out; we no longer dictate couples according to the rules of our ancestors. Yet, some of the ceremonies still stand."

"You both make it sound as if the petition, once granted, says I have to marry Adam. I'm not ready for that."

Darius shook his head, "The petition process discourages casual dalliances. You have tasted the dangers involved in our lives; it is even more so for the _Hashashin_. The Order discourages casual romance for our elite. It is not fair to their partner, and it can be dangerous for both people. We require every _Hashashin_ to go through the request process. Seeing the length and complex nature of it, people tend to only submit to it if there is serious interest on both sides. It keeps our intentions honest."

Rachel stared back at him, speechless.

"Think on this, Rachel," Darius added. "Black was willing to—and has—petitioned Istanbul for permission to date you. That means he is earnest. I've only ever seen him take his missions this seriously, and sometimes not even then. This request of his is a high admission from him. Don't enter blindly, but don't discount how he feels. I'd hate to see either of you hurt." Darius glanced down the hall before returning his attention to her. "If you will excuse me, Lin-ru and I have other matters to attend to."

"Yes, of course," Rachel said, nodding. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately: nodding.

It wasn't until they left that she realized she was lost.

***

She stalked to the end of the hall.

Where in all the ever-loving-fortress was she?!

Rachel mashed her fingers through her hair and tugged, trying to hold back her scream. She was so lost! She'd walked up and down the same corridors for hours. Rachel needed to find her room. She was hungry again and had to pee! If she didn't find a bathroom soon, there was going to be a mess on the floor.

She did not want to have to explain that to housekeeping.

"Ciao, Rachel."

Rachel jumped, whirling around to face the speaker. He was the older _Hashashin_ from a few days ago. The nice one she met while exploring. "Anton! Hi!"

"May I be of service," he asked, eyebrow quirking upward.

If her need hadn't been so pressing, she would have found a better way to phrase her request, but as it stood, she was in dire need. "A restroom! I really need a restroom!"

Anton walked down the hall, and at the first door he came to, he slid a card into the door's card reader. He pulled the door open when the unlocked indicator clicked to green. "I will wait for you."

Rachel nodded to desperate to care why he wanted to wait and dashed inside. There she found a standard quest bedroom room layout with a bathroom to the right. After doing her business, she returned to the hall.

She expected him to ask what she was doing there, or chastise her for being without an escort despite his earlier assurance to the contrary, instead, he inquired, "Are you coming to _Lokhagos_ Hurston's memorial?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Pretty much everyone I asked and some I didn't, told me I wasn't permitted to go to any of the memorials since I am not immediate family or a _Hashashin_."

"I see." After a pause, Anton asked, "Would you like to?"

"Yes!" She hadn't known any of the fallen except Grace, but that didn't mean she didn't want to honor them at their memorials.

"Please, follow me."

"But they said —"

Anton winked, effectively cutting her off. "I overrule them. I have the authority."

"Oh. Okay." After a moment to ponder his response, she asked with slight trepidation, "Wait. Are you the _Polemarchos_?" If it turned out, he was the CEO of the whole operation... Well, she didn't know what she'd do.

"No, Miss Rachel. I do not aspire so high."

"Oh. Okay. Good," Rachel said, relieved; she then added, "Thank you, Anton, for inviting me." But now she was curious as to what his role was in the Order. She'd have to find a way to ask without sounding rude.

"My pleasure."

Anton brought her down several hallways, but eventually, they entered a new hall, cast in shadows even though the skylights threw rays of sunlight onto the pale stone floor. The dust motes made the walls shimmer and waver. Baffled by what she saws, she walked closer.

Name after name was engraved directly into the marble.

She turned a corner, and the names changed to photographs, meticulously preserved behind frames. The first few were blurry sepia-toned images of men in formal, stylized, historical attire, but then slowly transformed to black in white photos of men still richly dressed, and then finally to color. It wasn't until she reached the clothing styles of the sixties and seventies that images of women started to appear in the timeline on the wall. They were few and far between, but they were there.

Underneath each image was a name and two dates. Rachel assumed they were birth and death dates. The sight was sobering.

Eventually, she found herself in front of names she recognized: Mitch, Tony, Grace, Jacob, Marcel, Eric, Karl, Durant, Joseph, Peter, Teo, Blaine.

The London dead.

Rachel wiped a tear away as she contemplated Grace's smile.

A hand touched her back lightly, and she turned her gaze to Anton. "Each death had a purpose," Anton said quietly. "Each one of the newly fallen was like my own children. Losing them cuts deep."

This hidden pain could be her fate. A memorial service. A photo on the wall. A date of death. Another life cut short way too soon.

"Can't you make it stop?" Rachel asked, thinking of Grace and her confession about not wanting to date or fall in love and about Adam's pending petition to _Antipolemarchos_ Valis so that they could be together. "Can't you change it? Keep them from dying? You said you had some authority."

"We are trying, Rachel. But as long as those artifacts exist in this world, then the Order cannot rest in our fight to keep humanity safe. Regretfully, the cost of that freedom is high, and sometimes the life of our _Hashashin_ are cut short. Were it different, I'd be a landscape artist."

"Landscape artist?"

Anton's smile was sad as he nodded.

Rachel sighed and turned her attention to Grace's photograph. She lightly touched the frame. "Grace didn't want to have a boyfriend because she didn't want her loved one to go through this pain if they lost her. I-I don't know if I can do this. You know. With Adam."

"I understand. The decision is difficult for all of us, and we must each make our own choice. I cannot help you with this."

"Did you do it? Did you petition for someone's hand?" It felt so archaic for Rachel to ask that.

"Yes. But neither of my loves was interested in becoming a formal couple with me."

Rachel wanted to know more, but before she could ask for any type of clarification, a woman stepped up to Anton's side.

The woman's face held tear tracks, but she held herself up, proud. When she spoke, her voice only held the barest of a waiver, "They are ready for us, _Antipolemarchos_ Valis."

"Thank you, Mrs. Voll-Hurston."

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis?! Rachel gaped. _Oh, no_. She could feel a blush bloom across her cheeks, and she wondered if she should apologize for referring to _Antipolemarchos_ by his first name, even though he had asked it of her. She had a sinking feeling it just wasn't done.

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis smiled at her. "You are still permitted to call me Anton," he said, almost as if he'd read her thoughts. "But I can already see that you will not. Can we at least drop the honorific? I'm not strong on them, and they make me feel like an old man." Rachel nodded. "Good," he said as he touched her elbow and Mrs. Voll-Hurston's back, turning them both, "Shall we go in?"

"Yes, _Antipolemarchos_."

Rachel thought she heard him sigh as he guided them toward the door at the end of the hall, where Rachel noticed several people congregating. Before they could enter, Rachel blurted, "I, er... my condolences, Mrs. Voll-Hurston."

"Thank you," Mrs. Voll-Hurston said with a sad smile. "But the last name is honorary. We weren't married yet."

"Oh. Um," Rachel hedged, unsure how to respond.

"Mrs. Voll-Hurston," Anton interrupted. "Your partnership was confirmed. To the Order, you were married. It is only your church which had yet to honor your union."

"Of course, I knew the risks going in," Mrs. Voll-Hurston continued as if she had not heard _Antipolemarchos_ Valis. "but I didn't think Mitch would die quite so... abruptly. We'd waited until he was out of the field and into a more secure position before we made it official, but, I guess, as long as an _Hashashin_ holds secrets, he is still in constant danger." The woman took a long, shaky breath, clearly tearing up, and Rachel's own throat felt too tight.

"Mitch was a venerable man," Valis said. "The Order lost a valuable son when the Org took him from us."

"Thank you, _Antipolemarchos_."

"Now, come. We have friends to greet and a man to honor."

#  Chapter 17

As Rachel, Mrs. Voll-Hurston, and _Antipolemarchos_ Valis approached the group of agents congregating in the hall, Rachel recognized a few of them: Ella, Adam, and Simon, for starters, but a few of the people she knew were conspicuously absent.

As she drew near, she joined Adam and whispered, "Isn't Darius coming?"

"Not _Hashashin_."

Rachel's eyes widened. "Not Hash... But he was, once."

"Yes, but not now."

That answer did not make sense. "But Ella's here. She's _Lokhagos_ now and not _Hashashin_."

"Yes."

Sometimes his non-answers drove her nuts. "How? Why?"

"Why?"

"Oh, for the love of Pete, yes! Why?"

He gave her a tight smile. "Darius and Isaac are now _Stratigos_. They left the _Hashashin_ branch of the Order. And with that separation, they forfeited their right to attend all _Hashashin_ memorials except for immediate family."

Rachel swallowed, knowing he meant his inevitable death. Something he'd come to grips with even if she hadn't.

Someone touched her back. Rachel turned to find Valis. "This is more... manageable. Otherwise, the entire Order would attend, and although the Fortress is immense, it cannot encompass us all, hence the strict enforcement of this rule."

"It seems cruel," Rachel whispered back.

"A lot of what we do here is considered cruel," Valis answered. "If it makes you feel better, Mrs. Voll-Hurston and the Hurston family held an open funeral. Many who are not permitted admittance today, went then."

Well, she conceded, that knowledge did help a little, but it still seemed rude to exclude anyone who may have wanted to come.

By this time, the three of them were at the door, and as they entered the room, Rachel glanced around. It matched her expectations for vibrant décor. At the far end of the room was a podium with Hurston's image in a frame leaning against it.

Rachel and Adam found a seat while Valis and Mrs. Voll-Hurston went to the front.

Taking the podium, Valis began, "Mitch Hurston. A cherished son. He grew from an exuberant child to a studious teen, and then a dedicated _Hashashin_ , and finally, a courteous and caring _Lokhagos_. His passing is a darkening on the horizon of our long history." The group murmured their assent. And as Valis spoke, Rachel's mind wandered to the injustice of what the _Hashashin_ families accepted. Could she, in good consciousness, encourage her child—should she ever have one—to follow that path? Worry daily about her spouse and child dying?

Mrs. Voll-Hurston took Valis's place. "I remember being excited about his promotion," she said, emotion filling her voice. "Finally, Mitch was clear. He would never be hurt again. His only lasting injury from his time as _Hashashin_ would be the loss of an eye, and I thanked my God..." Was Rachel seeing her future standing in front of her? A way-too-young widow grieving a man she never had time to love? Rachel wasn't sure she wanted that, but what she did know was, she was already in love with Adam.

Valis had said his loves had declined the petition. Could she refuse and still be with Adam? Rachel doubted it, Valis didn't look like he was with either of his, but maybe there could be an exception. She could ask.

When the memorial ended, some members moved to the front to speak with Mrs. Voll-Hurston, but Adam, at her side, made no move to join them. Rachel leaned over and twitched her head toward the podium. He shook his head. After a while, the crowd dispersed, and some came back to their seats while others left. Rachel stayed put, curious as to what would happen next. The answer to her question came a few minutes later when an agent removed Hurston's photo, and a new smiling face took his place.

Adam whispered in her ear, "We hold three memorials a day. Any more than that and our sense of loss dulls. That isn't fair to the families left behind."

Rachel nodded.

Valis once again stepped behind the podium, and the room quieted. Beginning, he said, "Blaine Carpenter was a kind man. I still remember the time when he found a kitten, lost and abandoned..."

***

After they finished the day's memorials, Rachel and Adam were out in the hall, heading back to her room. "If you had a child," Rachel asked, her cheeks reddened, but she forged on, "—hypothetically—would you want them to become a _Hashashin_?"

Without hesitation, Adam replied, "Yes. If he was qualified."

"A daughter?"

"Yes." After a pause, Adam added, "It's an honorable position, Rachel."

"I know that," she snapped. "It's just that... It's so brutal."

"It can be. But it can be gratifying as well."

"I guess," she said, and their conversation lapsed, whether it was due to her perpetual doubt or the somberness of the day, Rachel couldn't be sure. In any event, they didn't speak until they reached her door.

"Do you want me to come to get you for dinner?"

Rachel nodded. She didn't want a repeat of earlier where she became lost trying to find her way there.

Adam gave her a small smile, leaned in, and brushed his lips to hers. The kiss lingered on her lips long after he drew away and left her for tasks unknown.

***

_Innocent_.

Rachel poked it.

_Little_.

Why couldn't she look? She had the time.

_Brown_.

She sighed.

_Silver letters_.

Rachel returned her hand to her lap.

_Hard plastic_.

The thought of plugging it in made her sick.

Rachel stood and gave the USB drive a dirty look. She'd had the thing for weeks, now, and not once had she opened it to find out what it contained.

And now?

Well, now, a sense of dread filled her when she thought about peeking at the drive's contents. What if there were pictures of dead bodies? Horrible medical experiments? What if it gave her PC a virus? Or what if it downloaded a key-logger of some sort? If it did, could the device give away the fortress's coordinates? But the question which plagued Rachel the most was, what would happen to her if she handed it over now? Rachel no longer felt a burning desire to find out.

"Ta-hell-with-it," she muttered, pocketing the drive. She'd dump it at her first opportunity.

There was a knock at her door.

She popped her knuckles when she jerked her hand from her pocket and away from the evidence it concealed.

"Ju-Just a minute," she called out, as she checked the bedside clock: nine am. She wasn't sure what the hearing in front of the Order leaders would entail, but she'd barely been able to sleep last night for worrying.

Another series of knocks followed, more impatient than the first. "Rachel, are you there? Are you okay?" Adam called.

She hurried to the door and yanked it open just as Adam was about to knock again.

"Here," she said, feeling her stomach already starting to twist into knots, and she wasn't even the one on trial. Adam, on the other hand, didn't seem affected at all by his upcoming hearing. He looked rested and calm, completely unflappable. The only thing different about him was his clothes. Instead of his usual sweatshirt and sneakers, he wore a white linen shirt and dark gray blazer, paired with dark slacks and actual leather dress shoes.

Rachel raked him with an appreciative glance. He should dress this way more often, she thought. "You clean up good," she joked.

Adam gave her one of his most charming grins. "And so do you," he said, indicating her drab grey sweats and t-shirt. She tugged at the hem of the Tee, embarrassed to be dressed so informally.

"And you are way too calm. How can you be so nonchalant about your hearing?"

"Who says I am?" Adam replied as they walked down the hall. "At this point, there is nothing I can do about it. Grandmaster Valis and _Polemarchos_ will decide on an appropriate punishment for my transgression. They are good men; I trust they will come to a fair ruling."

They were interrupted by a deep chuckle coming from their right. Rachel turned her head and caught sight of Darius leaving his room. As he joined them, he said, "To hear you speak, I could almost believe you've grown up, Mr. Black."

Adam snorted.

"What do I say?" she interrupted, undeterred by their ease at the situation. "Do I need to tell them everything?" The flirting, the kissing, the time they almost had sex? These were deeply personal things to be talking about with old conservative men, even if she did know one of them, and she felt like some parts of her life were none of their business.

"Be truthful and answer them to the best of your knowledge," Darius replied, his tone serious. "Now isn't the time to keep things for yourself"— _Like that disk_ , she thought, wavering again on her decision to look at it or throw it away—"It won't help."

Rachel nodded, clasping her hands to her churning gut.

"Don't worry, you'll do fine," Darius added.

His assurances didn't help.

As they walked, they passed a door where two men were exiting. The older of the two supported, the younger, who seemed no older than Zach. The young man didn't appear to be able to stand on his own. He sported deep shadows under his eyes, and his features were drawn and sickly as if he'd spent too much time in his mother's basement, avoiding the sun.

Adam and Darius stopped and bowed to the newcomers. She looked from one to the other and frowned, confused. As they stood, she whispered, "What's going on?" It seemed impolite to speak louder.

Darius waited for the newcomers to leave their corridor before he answered. "A new _Hashashin_ confirm."

"Why did he look so sick?"

"He just finished his required prayers," Adam answered.

_Huh_? That meant absolutely nothing to her. Why would prayers make him look so shitty?

Darius must have noticed her confusion, for he explained further, "Every new _Hashashin_ , on their last night as a novice, will spend their time fasting in the ceremonial room"— _Only one night made him look that bad!? What do they have in that room? Lead wallpaper_? Rachel thought, aghast.—"praying for strength, of strong will—"

"Or long life," Adam cut in.

"—before their confirmation into their new role. The acceptance ceremony for the young man you saw will happen later today, probably after Adam's hearing, and is open to the public, should you wish to attend."

"Fasting did all that?" she asked, unconvinced. "He looks like he's been on the losing end of a vampire bite."

"Aren't all victims of a vampire bite on the losing end?" Adam asked.

"Shush," she growled. "You know what I meant."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Darius replied. "but I can't say any more about the ritual. There are things the _Hashashin_ don't share with outsiders."

There were a lot of things the _Hashashin_ didn't share with outsiders.

She sighed. Rachel knew a dismissal when she heard one. Still, she asked Adam directly, "Was it like that for you too?"

"I think I managed to walk out on my own."

"Hmm, that's not what I remember," Darius countered. "I distinctly remember your requiring a bucket."

Adam gave him an annoyed glare, but before he could say more, they stopped in front of two ornate wooden doors. Standing at attention on either side of the door frame were two older looking _Hashashin_.

The one on the left—the oldest looking of the two—nodded at them in place of a greeting.

"Please tell Grandmaster Valis and _Polemarchos_ we are here," Darius said.

The younger man bowed stiffly and slipped through the doors. A moment later, the doors opened, revealing the younger guard again. He bowed respectfully and invited them in. "Have a seat. The Exalted will see you soon."

Rachel gulped.

"Ladies first," Adam whispered in her ear.

"Nuh-uh," Rachel retorted. "You're the one in trouble. You can go first."

Adam snorted. "It's okay, Rachel. It's only the waiting room."

Rachel stepped forward tentatively. Sure enough, all she saw inside were a handful of carved wooden chairs with thick upholstered cushions, an empty desk, and a set of doors similar to the two they had just used. Rachel surmised that they must lead into the _Polemarchos_ office—or would it be more like a courtroom?—directly.

Moving with jerky steps, Rachel made her way to a chair with shades of purple in the upholstery, and sank into it gratefully. It was silly, she knew, but sitting in a chair with her favorite color calmed her nerves.

Adam plopped down next to her and clasped her hand in his. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Tell the truth, and you will be fine. They know everything already."

Rachel gripped his hand tight in hers and willed her heart to slow.

#  Chapter 18

Before she'd even had a chance to calm her breathing, the inner doors opened, revealing a woman who reminded Rachel of a bitter overworked school teacher.

"Ms. Munro?" she called as if there were several other women here, waiting to present testimony to save their boyfriends' careers.

"Here," Rachel answered and stood.

The woman beckoned her closer with a wave of her hand. "Come along, dear. They are waiting for you." Rachel swallowed her grimace at the endearment. 'Dear' always rubbed her the wrong way. It was worse than 'Missy'—not that she wanted to be called that either. Once a rival at her old job had not-so-affectionately called her that during a board meeting. The subsequent argument between the two had been epic.

"Take a seat," the woman advised Rachel as she entered the room.

The trial chamber was small. At the far end of the room, there was a dais. Sitting behind a large desk on the raised platform were three men. Each one wore a different set of elaborate robes. In the center, sat _Antipolemarchos_ Valis. To his right sat a stern-looking older man with a beard and light brown skin, much like all the other middle eastern men she'd seen so far in Istanbul. On the other side of Valis was a thin black man with a bland expression. She wondered which of the two in front of her were Sadik.

On shaky legs, she walked to the single free chair in the room and sat.

"Ms. Munro," the first man greeted.

Regardless of not being the praying sort, Rachel still sent a silent plea to God to help her get through this hearing without throwing up.

"Ms. Munro?"

_Oh, God, Rach, acknowledge him, you dumbass_. "Sir," Rachel replied, afraid to use any other honorific. She didn't want to insult him. He might be the _Polemarchos_.

"You are here to give a private—and preferably unbiased—testimony against _Hashashin_ Black's actions on the first night in June. Please note, your recounting of the events in question are strictly confidential. Your presence here without the perpetrator"— _Perpetrator_?—"of the crime present, is to assure you of this fact and to alleviate any pressure"— _Pressure_?—"you may experience which would prevent you from telling us the full, unvarnished, truth. Now, Ms. Munro, proceed in retelling the events of that night from your point of view," the man commanded.

"Um..." Rachel hesitated.

"If I may interrupt, Supreme Commander," Valis interjected.

"Granted."

"I believe an introduction is in order," Valis said with a kindly smile in Rachel's direction.

_Yeah_ , Rachel thought but felt unable to voice.

"Proceed," the _Polemarchos_ agreed.

"Rachel," he said, extending his hand toward her and then indicating the man on his right. "Meet the Supreme Commander to the Order."

"Sir," she acknowledged, to which he nodded.

"And _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti," Valis continued with a wave of his arm to the black man on his left.

"Hi." Rachel nodded to him as well.

"Rachel," Valis said, "please tell us the sequence of events for that night, and be sure to leave nothing out." His tone was softer, and his familiarity settled her nerves somewhat.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." After a shaky breath, Rachel began, "I was a student at Adam's Parkour studio in St. Louis," she trailed off. "Wait," she added a moment later, "can I go back further than that night?"

"No. Concern yourself only with the night in question," the Supreme Commander said.

Rachel gulped. "I," she started, trying to find her voice. Rachel honestly needed to go back further to prove Adam's actions weren't wrong in any way. She didn't know how else to explain that their attraction had slipped from his control if she didn't talk about that first kiss. "May I do so anyway? Please? It will help me in the retelling."

Valis gave the Commander a look Rachel couldn't quite decipher.

"If it helps, please continue," Valis said.

"Okay. Yeah. Sure," Rachel fumbled, as she found her place in her retelling. "About two weeks before the attack at Adam's loft, I had left something—a shopping bag with new"— _Redundant, dipshit_ —"shoes in it—at his studio. He drove the bag to my house that night to return it. I invited him in." Rachel felt her cheeks warm. "I, uh... I wanted him to stay, so I asked him to watch a DVD with me." By now, her palms, which had been clammy earlier, practically dripped with sweat.

She scrubbed them on her knee. Embarrassment rose in her anew. She had asked Adam to watch Assassin's Creed! _How could I have been so stupid! Assassin's Creed? No wonder he'd been uncomfortable_.

"Rachel," Valis called.

Rachel jerked. "Sorry, Valis, Sir. _Antipolemarchos_ , sir. After the movie— we ah— he ah— kissed me. It grew heated and..." Rachel's gaze turned skyward. Maybe she shouldn't have insisted on telling this part. "When I tried to take it further, he jumped away as if I burned him and left with hasty excuses about permissions."

_There, that helped, right? Adam being virtuous_?

Valis gave her a tight nod. Rachel didn't know if he meant it as encouragement or agreement to Adam's actions. She sighed. It didn't matter.

Continuing, "I was embarrassed at the rejection. I avoided Adam for nearly two weeks." Rachel's gaze fell to her knees. A loose thread on her right one caught her attention, and she picked at it. "On the night of the hit, I'd stayed after class to talk to him. Demand answers. Why be passionate only to turn cold a second later? Why lead me on?"

The thread snapped, and she returned her attention to the men at the table. "Lead me on... Ha! Isn't that the guy's complaint? I'm sorry, officer. She led me on—"

"Rachel," Valis's tone held a note of censure in it.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay." Returning to her retelling, "He invited me upstairs—oh, wait, um. He offered to take me out to dinner to talk first, but before we left, he kissed me. He was all passionate again."

She closed her eyes. Rachel could feel his lips on her, kissing his way up her neck. She shivered.

"What happened then, Rachel?" Valis prompted when she was quiet for too long.

"Do I have to? It's kind of embarrassing."

"Yes."

_Gah_!

"Okay," Rachel responded. "We never made it out the door."

Again, she paused. It was so hard to form the words!

"Ms. Munro," a different voice prompted. Must be Zanetti, she thought, since he hadn't sounded like Valis or Sadik. "What happened next?"

_Jeez, can't you people read between the lines_?

"Fine," she practically growled. Her cheeks were on fire; she feared they were bright enough to light the world. "Next thing I know, I'm on his bed—clothing flying. And, then those assholes barged in! I hid in the closet—half-naked and scared to death about who I was with and what was happening. I didn't want to die."

"Then?" Valis prompted.

Now that they were no longer talking about sex, her voice grew firm. She finished telling them about the chase, the sedation, and waking up in the compound. "I didn't know what to think when I woke up on that cot. I'd just seen Adam kill so many people. I thought he'd kill me too."

"Thank you, Ms. Munro. Your testimony is helpful. You are dismissed."

Rachel nodded, and as calmly as she could, she ran from the room.

***

Adam felt bad for Rachel. Her cheeks were bright pink, and she practically fled the waiting room after her testimony. It was clear the trial had embarrassed her, but he hoped she'd told them everything. And, he did mean everything. Lying to the three men inside the judgment room would have been disastrous. Especially since they'd know. Contrary to their motto of not utilizing alien tech, the Order did employ a few things, and the tech in that room acted as a lie detector.

" _Hashashin_ Black? _Stratigos_ Darius?" Beatrice, the Supreme Commander's assistant, called in Rachel's wake.

Adam and Darius stood. Adam took the lead and walked into the room, where Valis studied his notes with Zanetti reading them over Valis's shoulder. The Supreme Commander's gaze pierced Adam's mental armor, and Adam flinched.

He couldn't help it.

Sadik was pissed.

Adam stopped dead center of the room and stood at attention. Darius joined him a second later.

_Siktir_! He hated trials.

" _Stratigos_ Darius," the Supreme Commander said, calling the trial to order. "Please come forward."

Darius stepped toward them and nodded politely to each man on the panel, " _Polemarchos_. _Antipolemarchos_. _Antiploiarchos_."

"Are you here as a witness or superior?"

"Superior," Darius replied.

"Noted," the Supreme Commander acknowledged. " _Hashashin_ Black, be seated." After Adam sat, the Supreme Commander continued, " _Stratigos_ Darius, Were you aware of the situation between the civilian, Ms. Munro, and _Hashashin_ Black?"

"I was."

"And you did nothing?" Valis queried.

"Quite the opposite. I gave a direct order to _Hashashin_ Black to not get involved with the civilian. I gave it, knowing the provability of my orders being ignored."

"If you were sure of the status of the order, why try?" Valis asked.

"Mr. Black has a history of dismissing orders which do not suit his personal needs."

Adam flinched internally. The admission—although already well known to everyone in the room—hurt to hear.

"And yet you gave him this order."

"Yes," Darius continued, "I issued my first formal command regarding Ms. Munro to _Hashashin_ Black, at the time of Ms. Munro's mugging, November of last year, and the other was when Ms. Munro first joined his class the following January."

"Was this when you involved _Protostratigos_ Hui-Darius?"

"No," Darius replied.

Adam hid his surprise through years of practice. Why would Valis ask about Darius's wife? Darius would have approached his superior _Protostratigos_ Ister about Adam and not Lin-ru. The question didn't make sense.

"I then acted without _Hashashin_ Black's knowledge or consent. I contacted _Protostratigos_ Ister for a recruitment invite. As you know, _Protostratigos_ Ister rejected this request. I then contacted _Protostratigos_ Hui-Darius. We both petitioned _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti."

_Really_?

"This is a lot of effort for one civilian," Valis interjected. Adam agreed. He'd known Darius had lobbied for him but didn't realize to what extent.

Darius nodded. "It is. _But_ , it was clear from the beginning that deterring _Hashashin_ Black would not happen. It was in the way he answered questions about the young woman during his debriefings, even while denying the attraction." Darius paused.

" _Polemarchos_ , _Antipolemarchos_ , _Antiploiarchos_ ," he said, addressing each. "I have known _Hashashin_ Black for a long time. Admittedly, he does not always follow the rules, but the ones he breaks are always related to a mission's success. He has never placed a civilian in jeopardy before. So, for _Hashashin_ Black to intentionally breach protocol for this civilian was telling. I _had_ to take notice. I highlighted this fact to Zanetti when _Protostratigos_ Hui-Darius and I plead _Hashashin_ Black's case in person."

Darius glanced back at Adam. His gaze was warmer than Adam had seen since the initial meeting with Rachel. Darius turned back to the judges and jury of Adam's trial. "I had intended to watch the situation and intervene before things became critical. The successful attack by the Organization on June first prevented me from providing Ms. Munro an elegant invitation. _Hashashin_ Black and I discussed Ms. Munro several times before that night, and each time the blatant disregard for the rules regarding her proved not to be a deliberate rule-breaking for personal gain, but instead, an inability to see a bigger picture."

"And hormones," Valis added.

"And hormones," Darius agreed. He addressed Zanetti, "You are no stranger to that. Didn't you have a _Hashashin_ do the same to you while you were a _Lokhagos_?"

Zanetti smile faintly in agreement.

Valis interrupted, "We have all experienced similar at one time or another. It is rare but not unheard of for our men in the field to find someone on lonely nights." After a pause, Valis added, "Do you have anything else to say in _Hashashin_ Black's defense?"

"No, sir, I do not."

"Thank you, _Stratigos_ Darius."

With a slight wave of his hand, Valis indicated Adam should stand and come forward.

When Adam was in position, the Supreme Commander spoke, " _Hashashin_ Black, I charge you with endangering and causing irreparable harm to a civilian. How do you plead?"

"Guilty under duress," Adam spoke loudly and clearly.

"You understand this hearing is only a formality and that our sentencing has already documented?"

"No, sir, I did not."

"Against my wishes," the Supreme Commander said. "you are receiving a formal reprimanded and a black mark against your name. This should provide a bit of incentive toward prudence in the future, should it not?"

"Yes, sir," Adam replied, swallowing hard, torn between disappointment at letting his family down and absolute relief. He was still a _Hashashin_. The black mark against his family name was upsetting, for it would follow his lineage forever and was the first in all his family's history. Isaac would be pissed. Adam held back his sigh at the thought of his brother's reaction. It wasn't as if he was one hundred percent free of wrongdoing, either. Isaac's trial was tomorrow.

But, the Supreme Commander was still speaking, "You will be permitted to stay on active duty. It is unfortunate events happened the way that they did. Please extend a warm welcome to Ms. Munro on my behalf. I will greet her formally as soon as I am able."

"Yes, Sir."

"And _Hashashin_ Black?" the Commander said.

"Yes, Sir?"

"I called for your expulsion. Do not make me regret my leniency, understand?"

Adam gulped. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

***

It was subtle.

Her glass of water had moved, no longer centered on its napkin coaster on her bedside table.

The bottom dresser drawer was ajar.

Her bathroom door was almost closed instead of wide open.

Rachel didn't know why or who, but someone had been in her room looking through her things. And it hadn't been the first time, either.

Her hand twitched toward her pocket, but then she thought better of it. What if security had done it? Maybe they'd seen the USB. Or they were watching her right now. She didn't want them to see her with it.

Stepping into the room entirely, she turned and closed the door behind her. The hairs on her arms stood tall with goosebumps, and she half expected someone like Simon to jump out at her. When nothing happened, she pivoted to face the room, expecting evil to be looming above her.

No one was there.

Nothing.

Silence.

The air felt thick and sinister. The sensation reminded Rachel of that night in college when a man had followed her on the path home from her best friend Sarah's apartment. He'd creeped her out, and she had changed course, aiming for Sarah's boyfriend's dorm instead of her own.

It had worked.

The man was gone when she left the men's dorm half an hour later.

Didn't change the fact that she now always looked over her shoulder at night.

She shuddered.

Rachel didn't want to stay in the room any longer, but she didn't see any other options.

God! What was happening to her? Aside from that one incident last autumn with the failed mugging, she'd never been this fragile, this needy for a man's protection, but now?

Now she wanted Adam.

_It is the Order's fault_ , she thought. She new Aikido for Christ's sake. Surely a person in her room when Rachel hadn't been there shouldn't spook her so much.

But it did.

It did.

#  Chapter 19

"Do you have anything to say before we start the proceedings, _Stratigos_ Haddad?"

"No, sir, I do not."

Rachel bit her bottom lip and glanced at Zach. He smiled faintly, in a weak show of support. It didn't help.

And if it didn't help her?

She glanced at Adam. He gazed stonily forward, giving the _Polemarchos_ , _Antipolemarchos_ , and _Antiploiarchos_ behind their desk, an icy glare. Had he looked so stern yesterday? Rachel couldn't remember. Adam must have noticed her watching him for he turned to look at her. He gave her a tight smile and then returned his attention to his older brother standing at attention in the center of the room.

"How do you plead?"

"Guilty, Sir. On all accounts."

Adam sucked in a breath through his teeth.

_Guilty on all accounts_? That sounded? Bad. How many counts were there?

"Very well, _Stratigos_ Haddad. You have pleaded guilty to the following: willful exposure of classified information, violation of confidentiality, deliberate withholding of intelligence, falsified records, disregard for the established chain of command, purposeful investigative misdirection, and a failure to act in a manner fit for your office."

_Damn_ , Rachel thought. That was a long list of counts.

The _Polemarchos_ paused, his expression fierce. He pointed at Isaac and then Adam and said, "I am appalled on a personal level. Your father, _Hashashin_ Saif Haddad—May Allah protect his soul—would be sick with this disgrace. Both of you have behaved abysmally in his absence." Rachel spied Adam's fist as it clenched in his lap, but otherwise, he did not react to the scathing remark by the _Polemarchos_. "What in the name of Allah were you thinking?"

"Sir—" Isaac began.

The _Polemarchos_ cut him off with a chopping motion of his hand. "I don't want to hear it!" The _Polemarchos_ glanced down, shifted a few papers, and then looked up again. Continuing in a calmer tone, he said, " _Stratigos_ Haddad, in the name of _Hashashin_ Saif Haddad and with the weight of my office as _Polemarchos_ , I hereby strip you of your status as _Stratigos_ and removed from the _Polemarchos_ and _Antipolemarchos_ branches of governance. You will be reassigned to an internal staff position once one becomes free for you. I guarantee it will be the humblest option I can find."

The _Polemarchos_ paused again. "This is a permanent reassignment," he said, "and the position will not have access to the outside world. You will be assigned a room here at the Fortress as your permanent residence. Get comfortable, Isaac Haddad. You won't be leaving.

"Additionally, and I hope _Hashashin_ Saif Haddad will forgive me, I will be adding another a black mark"— _Black mark_?—" to the Haddad name in the formal registry." Adam made a pained noise in the back of his throat, and his fingers tightened. Rachel took his hand in hers, straightening it, so they rested palm to palm. "You will be permitted personal leave," the _Polemarchos_ continued, "to visit Cassandra Haddad-Davis in the city once a month. I suggest you avail yourself of her services."

_Avail her of her services_? That's his sister, right? Rachel glanced at Adam for an explanation, but he shook his head no.

"You are dismissed, Isaac Haddad," the _Polemarchos_ said. "And I hope I do not see you for the rest of my days."

"Yes, Sir," Isaac replied, his tone thick and devoid of his usual arrogance.

And when he filed out of the room, Rachel, Zach, and Adam followed.

***

Abhay drummed his fingers on the table in front of him as he listened to the feed from Simon's phone as he rifled through Rachel's things.

It quickly became apparent to Abhay that the USB he sought wasn't there.

"Bollocks," Abhay muttered to himself. "Where is she keeping it?"

"What's-that-mate?" the man sitting on a barstool next to Abhay asked with a drunken slur.

"Talking to myself," Abhay replied as he waved his hand dismissively.

The man nodded, returning to his tonic and gin.

Now, what would Abhay do?

***

At the hallway's corner, right outside the trial chambers, Darius said, "Ms. Munro, may I speak with you a moment." When Zach and Adam stopped alongside Rachel, Darius stressed, "Alone." To Adam, he added, "I will make sure she arrives at her room safely."

"Never doubted you," Adam replied, and with a twitch of his head, he prompted Zach to move.

"What's up?" Rachel asked as they left, but Darius placed a finger to his lips, urging silence.

When the two men were around the corner, and Rachel presumed a safe distance away, Darius resumed speaking, "I have a mission for you."

"A mission?" _Wow_!

"It's not something we usually offer to first years—"

"You mean dubious recruits?" Rachel interjected. Bitter.

Darius shrugged but otherwise ignored her statement. "But _Antipolemarchos_ Valis has given me special dispensation in this case."

"Oh?" Rachel inquired, curiosity piqued.

Darius fished something out of his pocket. It was a tiny slip of paper. "I have a small tech team back in St. Louis dedicated to this task. You now report to this team." Darius handed her the paper. It was a URL which linked back to a cloud service. "On the back is a list of the team's secured communication channels. Please contact Paulette, the team's lead, at your earliest convenience."

"Okay. Yeah. Sure," Rachel replied, studying the string of characters which made up part of the website's address. It looked like an encryption key in a GET variable. But that was stupid and easily hackable. So, why was it there? What was it? She put it in her pocket next to her USB key. "What has the team discovered about it?" she asked as they began walking.

"Nothing," Darius answered. "The link takes them to a login screen, and they have yet to determine a valid password."

"Did they build a brute force algorithm?"

"Please ask Paulette for details of what they have tried or have not tried."

"Yeah. Sure. Sorry. Why are you putting me on this mission?"

Darius halted her with a touch of his hand to her forearm. Rachel looked at him, expectantly. "This," Darius said as he handed her a folded piece of paper. Rachel unfolded it to find an image of a brittle, yellowed, piece of stationary. "is of the highest level of clearance. Only you, _Antipolemarchos_ , _Polemarchos_ , and I know of this letter."

Rachel returned her gaze to the paper and read.

December 1, 1942

Stratigos Darius,

My name is ZT, and you do not know me—yet—but you will. I'll arrive at your headquarters in 2014 with my mentor Hashashin Black.

Rachel paused in her reading. A task made difficult due to her shaking hands. "Is this from Zach? Our Zach?"

"Please continue reading, Ms. Munro."

We will be coming from Istanbul. Me, fresh from my recent recruitment into the Order, and Black, with an injury from a London mission which went badly.

I wish I could explain in-depth, but I do not have the time. I am shipping out to Akyab Island today. The Order found a new cache, and I'm going to help secure it. I'm also hoping to find answers to what has happened to me.

Happened to him?

But I digress.

In the event I don't make it back from the front-lines, or I get bounced again, I am sending you this USB through Margaret, the love of my life.

I have no idea what is inside—technology here isn't quite the same as 2017—but apparently it is "Important" and is related to the attack on Black.

Attack on Adam?

Sincerely,

Zachary Tremblay

PS. Do not show this to anyone other than the acting Polemarchos and Antipolemarchos.

You have a mole.

PPS. Make sure Rach—Black's girlfriend—sees this.

She's the one who figures out what is on the drive.

PPPS. And don't tell future—past?—me.

I think that might break a time continuum or something.

A future Zach?

Did the Order know of time travel tech? Did the Org?

"Please keep this to yourself," Darius repeated. "We don't know what this means, but, regardless, no one else has clearance to know about this."

"With my name on it... Why didn't you show this to me sooner?"

"We thought it was an elaborate hoax."

"Okay. Yeah. Sure."

"Until two months ago," Darius said.

Rachel glanced at the ceiling, trying to recall what had happened two months ago.

"It was the night Hurston died," Darius volunteered. "It was also the night that link went from 404 to resolving."

"Understood," Rachel replied, swallowing hard.

"Contact Paulette," Darius said. "Find out where she needs you to start. Get to the bottom of this."

"I will, Darius. You can bet on it."

***

Rachel stood in the small entryway of her suite after Darius left. Her hand on the doorknob as she contemplated her surroundings.

While she'd been at Isaac's trial and talking to Darius, someone had been in here.

Again.

She felt violated, and a little bit guilty, like an errant child, her hand deep in the cookie jar, keeping watch over her shoulder, listening for an adult.

What was the searcher trying to find in her room?

The USB?

Her hand slipped into her sweatpants' pocket to grasp the drive. She couldn't lie to herself any longer. There was no other reason for her to have unclassified room inspections.

Releasing the USB, she stepped deeper into her room.

Edgy.

Hastily, she grabbed her things, shoved them in a bag, and left her room. Maybe Adam would let her stay with him, or barring that, perhaps he could help her get her a new room assignment.

Exiting the room, Rachel forced her pace to stay slow and steady. She couldn't wait to ask Adam if room searching was a regular occurrence, and if not, how to go about reporting the intrusions.

#  Chapter 20

"Rach?" Zach's voice pulled Rachel from her light doze.

She straightened, feeling the kink in her neck tighten. How long had she slept?

Squatting down, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I—" she yawned. "I was waiting for Adam to get back."

"No, I mean, asleep, here, on the floor with your luggage. What's going on?"

"Oh, I," she trailed off. Rallying, she finished, "Someone's been in my room, searching through my things, and I couldn't stay there anymore."

Zach's eyes widened. "Are you okay? Did they take anything? Do you need help?"

Rachel waved her hands dismissively. "I don't think so. I wasn't there when it happened. Yes, I'm fine, and no, I don't need help—as in—I don't think you can do anything about it."

"Rach, you need to tell security immediately. They can scan the video surveillance to see who did it."

"I—" That sounded perfect. Rachel and Zach could find out who went into her room, and then Rachel could avoid that person at all costs. But a more profound thought made her pause. What if security knew already, and had sanctioned the search? What if her tattling got back to the person who did it and set them off? What if she caused yet another person to get in trouble? Or, what if the culprit hadn't gone through her things so much as cleaned up after her? It _could_ have been housekeeping. A place this big would have a staff dedicated to keeping the rooms tidy, right? What if they'd been doing their job and along comes panicky Rachel, throwing accusations of personal violation? "Never mind," she said. "It's okay, Zach."

Zach's brow lifted.

"Forget I mentioned it."

Grabbing her backpack, she fished around in the front pocket. Pulling out a pack of cards, she asked, "Golf?"

Zach grinned and dropped to the ground beside her. "Thought you'd never ask!"

***

Maybe it was because of her earlier scare, but Rachel's shoulders felt tight, and the skin at her nape tingled as if someone watched her.

Rachel glanced at Zach as she played her next card. Barely opening her mouth to speak, she whispered, "Do you feel like someone is watching us?"

"You mean by Adam?" Zach clarified at a regular volume, and Rachel whipped around to find Adam leaning against the wall. Adam smiled and waggled his fingers in a goofy wave. Zach continued, "He's been behind you for at least five minutes." As Zach spoke, Adam pushed away from the wall and came toward them. He looked a bit more rumpled than he had in the morning, but his white shirt and dark gray blazer still looked sharp on him.

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, then asked, "Why are you two playing cards in the hallway outside my door?"

"Oh, that..." Rachel hedged, standing. She felt silly now that she'd decided she'd been overreacting, and began fabricating a story to explain away her backpack. At one point, she had to elbow Zach to get him to keep quiet when he'd tried to blurt the truth.

At the end of her spiel, Adam's scarred eyebrow lifted in apparent disbelief.

Rachel shrugged. "So, can I? You know, go sightseeing?"

"Well, it isn't 'sightseeing' per se, but Cass _has_ invited us to dinner at her house tonight. Want to go?"

For the first time in several days, excitement fluttered in Rachel's belly. Here Adam offered an activity that didn't involve sitting around, defending herself, or being scared out of her mind. "Really?"

Adam smiled. "Really. Really."

"Yeah. Sure. When are we leaving?"

"As soon as I can get us all to the car."

With Adam in his suit jacket and Zach in nice jeans, Rachel paused. Insecurity stole in around the edges of her mood. "Do I look all right? Should I go change? Dress nicely like you too?"

"Na, no need. You already look good enough to eat."

"Hey, Black," Zach chirped from beside her. "Nice way with words. And here I thought I was the only cunning linguist."

Rachel rolled her eyes, amused and aggrieved in turns. "Yes, Zach, you are!"

Adam smirked, and Rachel revisited her prior statement. "Oh my God, that's not... I mean..." Her cheeks were flushing bright red when she realized what she'd implied. "I... Um... Linguist..." She pressed her palm to her forehead. "You know what I meant."

Zach and Adam both burst into laughter.

"Come on," Adam said, relieving her of the burden of self-recovery. "The car should be here by now, and I want to leave while it is still daylight."

"Where does Cass live?"

"The actual location is classified," Adam offered her his hand as he answered her question. "But my sister lives far enough away that you should get to see some of the city while we are in transit."

Smiling, Rachel tucked her hand in his.

This outing sounded perfect.

At least until she spied Isaac waiting at the underground parking lot, he looked as sour as usual, and she groaned internally.

"I thought it would be here by now," Adam said as he broke away from her and strode toward Isaac. "ETA on the car?"

"Unknown."

Rachel and Zach came to a stop a few feet from the brothers.

"You requested one, right?"

"Of course," Isaac replied, proud as ever.

"I'll talk to Bart," Adam said, veering off to head between an archway across the parking lot.

Isaac gave his back a scathing glare.

The wait and Isaac's angry silence made the time drag, and it felt like ages before Adam reappeared. "Apologies from Bart. _Antipolemarchos_ had him on an errand, and he couldn't get to our request right away. He's calling for a car now."

Barely any time passed between Adam's statement and the distinctive squeal of tires on the polished stone before a long black limousine pulled to a stop in front of them. Adam hustled forward, opening the door, he said to Rachel, "After you."

Rachel hopped in, followed by Zach, then Adam and Isaac. When they were all in, Isaac handed out blindfolds for everyone. "Put these on." Rachel mentally balked but complied without a fuss. A few moments later, static buzzed in their cabin, and a disembodied voice asked, "Masked?" When everyone replied in the affirmative, the car began to move. "Sit back and relax. We'll be at Mrs. Haddad-Davis's home in little over an hour."

Rachel barely had time to reflect on the commute when she felt sunshine through the window. That had been fast. Much faster than her trip in, and she wondered why. Pushing time continuum curiosity aside, Rachel mentally practiced the Turkish greeting Valis taught her.

She wanted to make a good impression.

Speaker static, and then the voice, "Ten minutes and we'll be clear of the Fortress protection perimeter."

"Thank you, Matthew," Adam said.

A few minutes later, Matthew announced they could remove their blindfolds. Rachel whipped hers off in record time and turned her attention to the surrounding city. It was glorious— _and_ looked exactly like a city, with everything that word implied.

Adam laced his fingers in hers. "You'll like Cass," he said.

"Everyone likes Cass," Zach said, earning a harrumph from Isaac.

"What's she like?"

"Warm. Friendly," Zach answered for Adam. "Curious."

_Merhaba_ , Rachel thought for practice. God, she was nervous.

While Zach rattled on about Cass's virtues, Rachel snuck a peek at Isaac. His frown hadn't changed. She quickly looked away, opting instead to stare out her window. She couldn't see anything, but after a few short minutes, Matthew once again ordered them to put on their blindfolds.

Rachel growled, giving in to her frustration.

"You will obey," Isaac said, his tone clipped. "Mrs. Haddad-Davis is a former _Hashashin_ and a current psychiatrist and psychologist within the order."

"In other words," Zach said, interrupting Isaac to which he garnered a glare worthy of starting the next ice age. "She knows a lot of secrets and has to be protected."

"But she lives away from the fortress," Rachel argued. "Shouldn't she live inside it if she's so important?"

_Merhaba_.

"Yes, but she was a _Hashashin_ first," Zach answered.

"Okay," Rachel said, still not understanding.

Zach pointed to both Isaac and Adam, but before he could elaborate, Adam intervened, "What Zach is trying, yet, failing to say, is our sister can take care of herself and her family. She has our skills and training, even if she no longer is in the field."

"Oh," Rachel said, embarrassed.

"Put on your blindfold," Isaac barked.

"Yes, Dad," Rachel said, unable to bite her tongue. Zach snickered, but Adam put a restraining hand on her arm, and Rachel managed to swallow back the rest of her annoyed retort.

Several turns later, the car came to a stop.

"Can I take off the blindfold," Rachel inquired, eager once again.

"Not yet," Adam answered as the door opened.

"Mr. Haddad, you first," Matthew said, and Rachel felt Isaac move passed her. A minute later, Matthew was back. This time Adam left. Eventually, it was her turn, and Matthew helped her out. "Step forward, Ms. Munro." Rachel followed his instructions, her hand tight on his forearm. "A step up," he said, to which she obeyed with the required action. Matthew released her, and Rachel came to a halt. "Good day," he said. "And don't forget to take off your shoes." And with those parting words, the door closed, and the perceived light from outside world winked out.

_Merhaba_.

#  Chapter 21

Once everyone was inside the new location, Isaac cleared them for taking off their blindfolds. As Rachel pulled it off her head, she spied a little boy, barreling down a staircase, screaming something. Adam caught and lifted the boy. "Ooof, you are getting big!"

As the child hugged Adam, he spoke rapidly, and in a language Rachel didn't understand, to which Adam chided, "Please speak English for our guests, yes?"

"Sorry, Uncle Adam," the kid immediately said in English.

Patting the youngster on the back, Adam turned for the stairs.

The group followed Adam and the child up and into the home proper. At the landing, Rachel found herself in a foyer of sorts with an archway to her left, leading to a living room, and at the far end of the foyer's hall was a kitchen. Inside stood a barefooted woman, presumably Cass, with long black hair, a black skirt, and a light blue blouse. She stirred something at the stove, and Rachel's belly growled at the delicious smell.

Merhaba.

"I'll be there in a moment," the woman called over her shoulder.

"Take your time, sis," Adam replied, which cleared up any of Rachel's remaining doubt.

Finally, Cass dried her hands on a towel walked toward them. "Come here, you big trouble maker." Rachel side-eyed Adam, figuring she meant the boy in his arms, but Adam's stage whispered to the child, "Is she talking to you or me?"

"You, Uncle Adam!"

"Me?!"

"Uh-huh! You're the one always getting sent to _Antipolemarchos_ 's office," the little boy exclaimed, causing Zach to snicker and Isaac to harrumph. Rachel smiled tentatively, not quite able to relax. The joke hit a little too close to home this time.

Cass grabbed Adam and envelop him in an embrace. Leaning back and looking up, she said, "My God, Adam! Don't you ever stop growing?"

Zach laughed harder, and Adam squirmed in Cass's grip. The little boy bounced back and forth with Adam's effort, shrieking in glee, and hurting Rachel's ears.

"Cass, let go. Zach! Rachel! Get her off me before she starts pinching my cheeks!" The little boy in Adam's arms continued to squeal in delight and grabbing his face to pinch Adam's lips together as Zach jumped into the fray. Rachel hung back, unsure of her place in the domestic scene, and after a glance around, she noted Isaac's absence. Returning her attention to the battle unfolding before her, she witnessed a couple of mock punches, several legitimate tickles, and a more than a few evasive maneuvers, but, eventually, Cass acquiesced, releasing Adam with a pout. "Fine. You win."

Finally free, Adam asked, panting, "Cass, you remember Zach, right?"

"Of course!" Cass said, turning her exuberant hugging to Zach, who obliged her with a grunt as Cass presumably squeezed all the air out of him.

_Merhaba_ , Rachel mentally said again, preparing.

As Cass hugged Zach, Adam finished his introduction, "And this is Rachel."

Cass released Zach with a flourish, and Rachel braced herself for her turn with a vigorous greeting, but instead, Cass collected her gently in her arms and gave her the barest of hugs. "Welcome to my home, Rachel."

As Cass released her, Rachel voiced the word she'd been mentally chanting to herself since leaving the compound, earning a broad smile from both Adam and Cass.

"Don't strain yourself," Isaac interjected, surprising Rachel with his reappearance.

She frowned at his words. She was only trying to be friendly, to show respect.

Ice clinked in his glass. "Where's Geoff?"

Rachel presumed Geoff was Cass's husband.

"I see you found the liquor, Isaac—"

"Back off, Cassandra."

"—Didn't take you long, did it," Cass remarked dryly, then answering the question Isaac had asked, she said, "He went to the corner market for some more raki. He'll be right back." Waving them all into the first room, Cass said, "Please sit, make yourselves at home as Isaac already has. Rachel? Zach? Can I get you anything?"

"Water," Rachel replied at the same time Zach did, "Jinx," she said and grinned at him. Zach—as melodramatic as ever—clutched his heart and staggered. "You wound me, Rach. Jinx? How could you?" he added, then fell.

The little boy must have thoroughly enjoyed Zach's play-acting, for he screamed out a laugh, and yelled, "Again! Zach! Again!"

"Maybe next time, Caleb," Adam said, putting Caleb down. "Would you like you to meet my girlfriend, Ms. Munro?"

Caleb nodded as ice clinked.

A stolen glance, found Isaac glaring at her as he sipped of his beverage.

"Hi," Caleb said, commanding her attention. She found his hand extended for a handshake. Taking a deep breath, he added, "Mom said she couldn't wait to meet to you. See if you were a good fit—"

"Caleb!" another little voice barked from the hallway. "Enough."

Caleb's hand dropped to his side. "Yes, Ean."

Ice settled.

Rachel peeked at Adam, but he shook his head. Thankfully, Cassandra reappeared to save them all. As she handed out the beverages, she apologized, "Caleb is at that perfect age where he repeats anything you say. I apologize if he embarrassed you as he embarrassed me." These last words were said with a touch of motherly venom and a quick stare down from Cass to Caleb.

The little boy's shoulders drooped further. "Sorry, mother. Sorry, Ms. Munro."

New ice sounds came from Isaac's direction. Rachel refused to look.

"Don't worry about it," Rachel said, dismissing the apology. It wasn't as if she didn't already know she was the talk of the Order.

More infernal ice clanking together. Isaac had to be doing that on purpose.

Squaring her shoulders, Rachel endeavored to rise above the frostiness from the patriarch of the Haddad family and to continue with the arduous task of small talk with her newly met, potential in-law. "I understand," Rachel said. "If I had a sibling, I would probably do the same."

Cass sighed, added, "Fair warning, Caleb will talk your ear off if you let him. I remember Ean did too, but since he started training, he's been more reserved. I didn't realize how much the tutors curbed the 'speaking out of turn' part of childhood until Ean stopped doing it."

"How long has he been in training?" Rachel asked.

Clank. Clink. Settle. Rachel tensed. She wanted to shake Isaac to get him to stop.

"Only a year now in the _Hashashin_ training." Cass rolled her eyes. "Caleb idolizes Ean and can't wait to join him at the Fortress. I'm not looking forward to it. Between the physical training and his tutors, I hardly see Ean. It seems silly now—I should have let you bring him from the compound—but he asked to come home early yesterday, and I couldn't resist him." Cass shrugged. "Mother's prerogative, I guess."

"Is he doing well?" Adam asked.

Cass nodded. "Shows an aptitude for it, yes. It's still too early to tell if he'll be good though to become _Hashashin_."

"He comes from a strong line. I think he will be fine."

Ice shifted in a glass.

Rachel's eyelid twitched, and she feared that the noise of ice in a whiskey glass would create a future PTSD reaction if Isaac didn't stop it soon.

"That's what I am afraid of," Cass said as if the noise didn't bother her. But then, Rachel figured it might not. It was only her perception which attributed his actions as aggressive to her. Rachel vowed not to read any more into it. Seeming as if she heard Rachel's thoughts, Cass changed the subject, "Anyway, Rachel, how did you meet my illustrious brother here."

"You already know the story, Cass—" Adam interrupted. At the same time, Zach quipped, quoting his favorite movie _Titanic_ , "With a lucky hand at poker."

Isaac harrumphed.

"Isaac! Enough," Cass barked. "You've made your point, now let it go."

Isaac tossed back the contents of his drink, finishing it, then turned on his heel and left the foyer.

Addressing Adam, Cass snipped, "Yes, I heard everything from you, but now, I want to hear her side."

"Cass—"

"Not much to tell really," Rachel interjected, hoping to derail the looming family fight. "I was nearly mugged last November, jogged to Gateway studio where Adam graciously let me take refuge, found out about his Parkour classes, and signed up. That's it. End of story."

"That can't be it—"

"Cass," Adam warned. Rachel stopped him with her hand to his forearm. She appreciated his effort to shield her, but it wasn't needed.

Maybe it was Rachel's touch to Adam, or perhaps it had been his objection, but Cass appeared content to let the subject drop. Turning to Zach, she asked, "How much longer do you have in training, slugger?"

Zach glanced at Adam before answering. "Well, it _was_ about eight more months, but now that I have this," Zach indicated his healing shoulder, "I've got a bit of a setback."

"That's not always the case—" A loud buzzer sounded in the kitchen, and Cassandra pivoted on her heel and hustled toward the kitchen, "Please excuse me. I have to get the lamb before it burns."

"Sure," Zack replied.

"Of course," said Adam.

"Lamb?" Rachel was curious. Lamb seemed a bit fancy for a family dinner.

"We're celebrating and mourning," Adam whispered. "And lamb is the traditional meat for both in our family."

_Ahh_ , Rachel thought. "Wait, what are we celebrating?"

"You, silly," Zach replied as he brushed past her to enter the living room.

Rachel followed and looked around the comfortable room. Along one wall was a dining table already set with flatware and plates. Separating it from the entertainment area, was a couch and love seat poised on the other side of an accent table which happened to be as tall as the back of the couch and extremely narrow—maybe six inches wide. It had several doilies and decorations on its surface. Besides the oriental-styled rug and traditional end tables, there was a baby grand piano with pictures on the thin strip of wood not being used for its traditional purpose. Finishing off the room were the photos on the wall. Curious, she walked over to the pictures sitting on the top of the piano. Spotting a picture of a boy who had a strong family resemblance to Cass's kids, but obviously wasn't one of them, Rachel asked, "Is this a cousin?"

Adam joined her. "Which picture?"

"This one, with the slightly chubby kid," Rachel said, pointing.

"That was me," Adam answered. "Before _Hashashin_ training."

_Whoops_!

Zach laughed. "Chubby kid! I didn't know that."

"Sorry," she apologized, feeling herself blush. "I didn't mean to offend."

"It's fine," Adam replied. "I had a lot of baby fat."

Moving on, Rachel continued to look at pictures until she came to one that was surrounded by several more recent family pictures, such as Adam, Isaac, and the two boys. Yet this photo was yellow by age and protected by a simple frame. In it were two men, one had a bracer, and the other didn't. The vambrace free man was the older of the two and had an arm around the shoulders of the younger. The older man had sandy brown hair and looked familiar. The younger, on the other hand, had the same thick black hair as Adam. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought the man in the photo was Adam in a few years. The likeness was uncanny. "Who are they?" she asked, although she could already guess the answer for at least one of the two men.

Adam came up behind her, put his arms around her waist, and pulled her back against his chest. "That man there," he said, indicating the dark-haired man, "is my father, Saif. We don't know the man with him. The initials ZT"— _ZT! That's Zach. Zachary Tremblay! Holy shit_! Rachel's gaze snapped away from Adam's dad and back to the other man in the photo. Now she knew why he looked familiar. Rachel swallowed hard. She couldn't say anything! God, she hoped Adam couldn't feel her heart racing.—"are on the back of the photo, but that's it. Mother never told us his name. All we know is he was good with languages and became friends with father only a few months before they were both killed in action."

_Killed_?! Rachel glanced at Zach over her shoulder and caught his perplexed expression as he watched them.

"And you never knew him," she stated, turning back to the photos and speaking of Saif.

"Correct," Adam responded, "Only the stories mother was willing to tell, which weren't many. Isaac doesn't speak of him at all, and Cass was too young to remember him."

"Ean's named after him. Saif Ean Davis." Rachel glanced down and found Caleb looking up at her with earnest eyes.

Ean's voice came from the hall, "We are both named after our grandparents. His is from our grandmother's side. Mother felt it was important to honor them." He paused, "Come, Caleb. Mother needs our help in the kitchen." Rachel watched Ean leave. Beyond him stood Isaac, his expression unreadable. He had a fresh glass of something in his hand. After a moment, he too turned and followed the kids down the hall.

#  Chapter 22

Rachel needed a distraction, something, anything, to help her get her mind off Zach's future death and the proof of his time-traveling abilities. When she heard Ean in the kitchen say, "Here, Mother, let me help," she latched on to it. "Why do y'all call your moms, 'mother' instead of 'mom' or 'ma'?" Rachel asked.

"It's polite. Formal," Adam answered.

"But why does that matter? She doesn't look like she requires formalities," Rachel said and slipped from Adam's embrace to join Zach on the couch. Adam took the armchair across from her.

"It's related to the military," Zach supplied. "Like showing honor to your superiors. There are a few who don't use their titles, but the higher you go, the harder it is to think of them as equals. They command too much respect."

"Do the higher-ups use their names with each other?"

"I'm sure the Supreme Commander and the Grand Master do when not in the company of others. They are contemporaries. But never in front of anyone," Zach replied.

"Not even then," Adam said. " _Antipolemarchos_ Valis would never address the _Polemarchos_ by anything other than his title. It simply isn't done."

They fell quiet, the only disruption being the occasional words coming from the kitchen.

But, then, Cass burst into laughter, "Isaac... Stop it!" Rachel turned towards the sound, curious to what was going on, but a wall blocked her sightline.

"Hello, Geoff," Adam said, and a moment later, a heavy-set man, who looked about the same age as Isaac, walked in.

Taking off his hat and putting it on a hook on the hall tree in the foyer, Geoff said, "Never could sneak up on you kid."

"Maybe eventually," Adam replied, his tone light, teasing. "When I'm old and grey like you."

"Dad!" Caleb called. "Come help Mom. Uncle Isaac's eating all the food!"

Geoff responded over his shoulder, "I'll be right there." He removed his jacket and added it to the peg with the hat before walking into the living room. Adam, Rachel, and Zach stood to greet him. Adam clasped his hand, pulled him close, and pounded him on the back in a typical 'man' hug, "Good to see you again, Geoff." Stepping back, Adam indicated Zach and Rachel with a wave of his arm. "And these are my trainees, Rachel and Zach."

"Good to meet you, Rachel. Zach," he said and shook their hands.

Loudly, from the kitchen, came Cass's exasperated voice, "Isaac, don't you eat at the compound? Leave the tabbouleh alone. Geoff! Come get this brute out of my kitchen!"

Isaac responded, "No need," and a few seconds later entered the living room with a self-satisfied smirk tugging his lips. It morphed to his usual scowl as he found Rachel watching him. In a perplexing turn of events, Rachel found herself wishing Isaac smiled more. He looked handsome when he did.

"Geoff," Isaac nodded in greeting and moved to an armchair in the farthest corner of the room. After sitting, he turned his apprising eyes to her.

Rachel fidgeted under his scrutiny as Geoff sat in the other armchair, leaving the couch to Rachel, Adam, and Zach. Adam pulled her hand to his knee, and after placing it there, he covered her hand in his. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Geoff, what is your job in the Order?"

"I educate our recruits on the history of the Order," Geoff said.

Rachel wondered if speaking to Geoff was how Zach knew all those details about the Order, but before she could clarify, Cass said, "Come eat. Geoff, can you grab the olive oil from the counter while I finish the table? I forgot it."

"Of course," Geoff responded and stood to retrieve the item from the kitchen.

"Isaac?" Cass called. "Do you mind sitting next to Ean, at the end? I want to separate the boys, or they will fight at the table."

Rachel glanced at Isaac for his answer. Isaac had an eyebrow raised in question. Like the smirk earlier, it reminded her of Adam, and she suppressed a bemused smile. _Remember, he's still an asshole_.

Cass continued, "The training's curbed much of Ean's dinnertime trouble-making, but Caleb's still quite proficient at tormenting his brother."

Geoff entered the dining room and said, "I think you're trying to separate more than the boys."

An unabashed grin spread across Cass's face. "I'm sure I don't know what you're referring too." She winked at Rachel. "Besides, it's always the younger ones causing trouble, _never_ the older ones. They're saints!"

Adam stood. "I'm not that bad—anymore."

"Anymore? Please!" Cass said, chuckling and turned her attention back to Rachel. "Do you mind sitting here?" she asked, indicating a spot next to a solemn Ean.

"I don't mind," Rachel replied and moved to the chair Cass indicated.

"Geoff, you're here, next to me. Zach and Adam can take that end," Cass directed and pointed to the farthest seats at the table. She looked at Rachel. "We'll be islands of calm in this sea of testosterone."

Once everyone was seated, Cass said, "We're informal at dinner, but if you wished to say something before we eat, feel free."

Rachel blushed. "Like what? A prayer?"

Cass nodded.

Rachel shook her head. She couldn't remember the last time she said grace at the table. "That's okay, but thank you."

Cass acknowledged her response with a perfunctory nod and began passing dishes around, and within a few minutes, everyone was served and was eating.

"Cass! This"—Adam pointed to the lamb—"is delicious. Is it Mother's recipe?"

Rachel had to admit it was tasty, along with all the other items on the table.

"Yes."

"I thought that recipe was lost," Adam responded, surprised but delighted.

"It was until Geoff found it tucked in between some pages of my cookbook. I must have stuck it there for safekeeping when we moved and then forgot about it."

"That's unlike you."

"Yes, but we _were_ moving, and I _was_ pregnant at the time," she responded to Adam's dig before taking a bite of her dinner.

The clink of a bottle against a glass had her looking in Isaac's direction. Rachel couldn't help but notice how full Isaac's whiskey glass was and bit her lip. He seemed to be imbibing more than would be prudent, even given his size.

"So, Rachel, what did you do before the Order?"

"Hmm..." Rachel said, her ponderings pulled from Isaac's new habit of alcoholism to Cass across from her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"What did you do before the Order?"

"Oh, um," she hedged. Was she allowed to answer with the truth? Cass _was_ an Order member.

"She wrote software," Adam supplied for her, and Rachel gave him a grateful smile.

"I built vertical vectors for big data matrixes and machine-learned analytics of consumer trends in the client's target market."

Cass blinked.

Rachel gave her a wry, half-smile. "I wrote applications for corporations to perfect their marketing efforts, worked out, and bought lots of shoes."

Cass chuckled. "Ah, we have something in common then."

Rachel wondered if that connection were the shoes or the working out, neither would surprise her.

"Uncle Adam," Caleb interjected.

"Yes?"

"Will you tell us the dodgeball story?"

Rachel leaned forward, attentive. _Dodgeball story_?

"We've heard this one before, Caleb," Ean replied.

"I know, but it's my favorite."

"Ean," Geoff said in rebuke.

Rachel was astounded at the effect one word from his dad had on the little boy. His shoulders drooped, and he bowed his head. "Sorry, father. Sorry, Caleb. Sorry, Uncle Adam. I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me."

"You are forgiven, Ean," Adam said and then began, "Hmm. The dodgeball story," Adam paused for dramatic effect. "There I am, in the bleachers with the rest of my class, witnessing one of the many dodgeball tournaments—" As an aside to Caleb, Adam said, "It promotes reflexes and competitiveness—you understand?" Caleb nodded and beamed. Addressing the group, Adam continued, "Where was I, oh yes. These required tournaments are strictly for the novice, but I got it into my head to challenge them."

Isaac snorted and clinked the ice in his glass before taking a drink.

"How old were you again?" Zach asked before Adam could continue.

"Seventeen," Adam answered. "Anyway, there I was on the sidelines, cheering on my sister—as only a younger brother can—when I decide to distract her from the tournament. It worked. She got beaned by a ball and was out." Adam paused, a hint of glee glinted in his eye, and Rachel knew deep to her soul that he was teasing Cass again. "What did I yell to you, Cass?"

"Cassandra likes to psychoanalyze _Hashashin_ farts," Cass replied dryly.

Adam smiled, and Caleb guffawed at the potty humor. A surreptitious glance from Rachel to Ean, found him with lips pinched tight, presumably in an effort not to smile. Boys were such simple creatures, she thought.

"Then what happened, Uncle Adam?"

"Well, your mother stormed over to chew me out, but that breaks several tournament rules and a few _Hashashin_ ones as well."

"She got in trouble, didn't she," Ean asked.

"Yes," Cass replied. "Outbursts like that are strictly forbidden. Control your mind and your body at all times."

"Yes, Mother," both boys chimed.

"Punishment goes both ways, as I recall," Geoff said.

Cass and Adam nodded.

"My team and his were pitted against each other in a tournament. I learned later, the elders expected annihilation of the trainees by the novices, and the novices would be similarly humiliated when they had to play a team of trainees. No one expected us to win."

"If I remember right, Bart bet against you," Cass said.

"He did," Geoff replied.

"And you did too," Adam added.

"Had to," Geoff said. "Statistically, those third years should have wiped the floor with you. Your grade was outnumbered by—How many? Five or six?"

"At least," Adam said, laughing.

"Your Mother's novice year was a big one. There were about fifteen of them." Leaning toward Rachel, Geoff added, "Must have been something in the water." Sitting back, he continued. "Anyway, no one thought that a bunch of trainees would succeed against novices—especially not that many of them. And at first, they didn't." Rachel looked at Adam. His expression gave nothing away, but his cheeks were a bit flushed, and Rachel wondered if he were blushing.

"Vincent, or maybe Noah, threw the ball at Uncle Adam," Cass said, directing her comment to Caleb. "It's heading straight for Uncle Adam, and instead of being hit, he jumps, does a fancy barrel roll in the air, and in mid flip, plucks the ball out of the air from under him. He lands, and without missing a beat, pegs the novice who threw the ball. That single action was as if Uncle Adam had proven to his brethren that it was possible to win. After that move, the tournament turned into an all-out melee of trainee-on-novice violence." Cass looked around the table. "Competitive, not malicious," she added. "No, harm came to any trainee or novice."

"It took my team, maybe five minutes before we were thereby declared the winners of the tournament," Adam said.

Rachel glanced at Caleb, noting how his eyes shown with excitement.

"I've never seen that happen—the tournament win nor that fancy move—before or since," Geoff added.

"Geoff, would you please pass the tabbouleh?" Isaac called, disrupting them, and Rachel's heart zinged with a flash of sadness. Isaac's request—and the subsequent passing—broke the tension of the story and the flow of conversation.

Many helpings later, the meal winded down, and in a lull of conversation at her end of the table, Rachel heard Isaac, "And, there they were, before the grace of God and Allah, beautiful, muscled thighs, glistening with oil." Rachel's head swung around, and her eyelids widened. _Oiled thighs_? What in God's green Earth were they talking about at that end of the table?

Cass groaned. "Not this story again? How many drinks have you had, Isaac?"

When he replied, his words were crisp, "Not enough by half." He stood, staring at his nearly empty glass, he said, "In fact, I need more. Excuse me." For a second, Isaac wobbled in place like one of those 1980's Weeble Wobble toys Rachel's mother had saved from her childhood for Rachel to play with, before growing steady again. Once he'd found his balance, he left the table and marched out the archway.

Geoff and Cass shared a look, and then Cass stood and hustled after Isaac.

What came next was quiet but intense bickering, then a glass rattling as it hit a hard surface. "Goddammit, Cassandra,"—came Isaac's raised voice—"If I want to get trolleyed to within an inch of my life tonight, I will. Now, leave me alone!" After an exasperated sigh from someone in the kitchen, soft steps could be heard in the hall coming toward them. Isaac—and not Cass, as Rachel had expected—turned the corner and plunked down in his seat. Moments later, Cass followed with a half-full bottle of liquor. She handed it to Isaac and returned to her place at the table.

"His thighs, coated in oil," Isaac continued as if he'd never been interrupted at all. "and bent to distribute his weight evenly"—With a glance to the boys, Rachel found herself hoping this story was family friendly.—"Waiting. The starting bell chimes, and he and his opponent clash. Neither able to find purchase. They grapple for nearly fifteen minutes before the first knocks the second to the ground. It was an unprecedented win"—Isaac glances down the table with a glare firmly in place—"much like his"— Isaac's tone and accusatory pointing conveyed his scorn—"at that tournament."

He gulped his alcoholic beverage and then refilled his glass. "It was a sound investment, though. Quadrupled my wealth with that win." Isaac paused, refilled his drink, and took a long swig. "I wonder where I'd be now if I had taken those winnings and retired." He gulped down more liquor before resuming, "Definitely not sitting here with the trollup, who ensnared my head-strong, brash, infuriating, little brother, pretending everything is fine, and ignoring the fact we have a disgraced family tree. I do give him credit, though," Isaac said with a fresh set of finger-pointing, "she does have a plump arse and fuckable quim."

Simultaneously: Cass exclaimed, "Isaac!", Caleb asked, "What's a quim?", Adam growled, "Enough!", and Geoff barked, "That was uncalled for, Isaac!" Geoff grabbed for the bottle in front of Isaac and missed when Isaac snatched it first.

Through it all, Rachel sat. Her disbelief grew until it burst into agonizingly sharp white fury. "Oh, for the love of Pete!" Rachel exclaimed, coming to her feet quickly. The chair's feet caught in the rug fibers, and if it weren't for Adam's quick reflexes, the chair would have clattered to the ground.

Isaac focused his startlingly clear, dark brown eyes to her. His eyebrow quirked up in challenge. Amazingly, his gaze seemed free of any alcohol-induced poor judgment, unlike his word choice.

"Prove my brother did not act rashly when he chased after you. Both times," Isaac said, stressing the last two words. "You have absolutely no redeeming qualities."

"I get it!" Rachel screamed, hot tears of anger streaming from her eyes. "I'm the bane of your existence! I should never have been born. I should have had the good grace to have never meet Adam! God, forbid I contaminate your brother by accidentally liking him and him me."

She dashed tears from her cheeks and tried to meet Isaac's glare with one of her own. "We certainly wouldn't want to ruin _your_ life, now would we?" Her voice hitched at the memories of all that she lost.

"Wouldn't want to have you declared dead in a car accident, leaving behind everything and everyone you ever knew only to be caught up in something you don't understand and can't help with because no one trusts you!"

"But you did ruin my life," Isaac countered, sneering. "Your very existence within the Order is to blame."

"Isaac," Adam warned. "You are out of line."

Isaac pointed his finger at her. "My life is ruined because of you. If you'd never sunk your gold-digging claws into him, then I wouldn't be here today!"

_Gold digging? Gold digging_? Rachel ached to punch him, to rear back and pop him in the eye, or break his nose. She saw similar expressions on Cass and Geoff's face, but it was Adam's expression that truly scared her.

Once again, she felt a need to defuse the situation, except she wanted to continue the fight. Swallowing back her genuine hatred for Isaac, Rachel took a deep breath and slowly dropped her challenging gaze. In all fairness, he had lost everything he ever stood for, but that didn't excuse his behavior or erase the fact it wasn't her fault he was no longer _Stratigos_. That was all him and his decisions to hide facts from his boss.

"I'm not a villain from a Disney movie, Isaac. My arrival in Adam's life wasn't a calculated act, wasn't planned, and I sure didn't fall in love with him to spite you. And as you say, I may not have any redeeming qualities, but that didn't force you to lie to your superiors or to falsify records or whatever else the _Polemarchos_ listed. You did that yourself. You sabotaged your success. Not me. I didn't do it. So, stop blaming me for your actions."

Isaac bowed his head, his pointed finger coming to a rest on the tablecloth. "you ruined my life," Isaac repeated, his voice wavered. He shook his head from side to side, once, twice, a third time. Lifting his head high and placing a steadying hand to the table, Isaac said, "Forgive me for my outburst. Now, if you will excuse me." He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he navigated around the table and walked toward the hall, his back firm and step unwavering.

The five remaining adults all shared a look, but it was Adam who broke the standoff. He tossed his napkin to the table. "I'll go talk to him."

Rachel doubted any "talking" would happen.

Cass and Geoff both nodded as the whole family watched Adam leave.

Cass straightened, visibly shaking off her anger and hurt, and faced Rachel. "Pie? It's chocolate."

#  Chapter 23

Adam finally stepped out of the bathroom, leaving Isaac to tend to his overindulgence alone. As he walked back to the living room, he passed the guest room door where he and Rachel would be sleeping. The closed door prevented him from looking inside, and Adam hoped she was doing okay. He hadn't had a chance to talk with her about the ugly scene at dinner, yet. He stepped past on his way back to the living room.

Beyond the guest room was Ean and Caleb's room. The door was ajar, and when Adam reached it, he peeked inside. Sitting on a cot, next to the boys' bunk beds, was Zach. Ean and Caleb sat on either side of him. Looking up, Zach gave Adam a bemused smile before returning to Caleb's conversation. Adam nodded to himself and continued silently past the kitchen where Cass and Geoff were cleaning up from dinner, and then into the empty living room. There, he stopped in front of the last known picture of his father.

Saif Haddad. A blazing star amongst stars. He would never have fallen so low. Wouldn't have fallen for a civilian. Wouldn't have hidden his errors behind a title. Saif's shining example of an exemplative _Hashashin_ made Adam and Isaac's transgressions a betrayal of his legacy and name.

Two black marks.

Adam hung his head. When had it all gone sideways? He rubbed his eyebrow scar. Probably long before Rachel or the attack on Isaac's _Hashashin_ force. Probably closer to when Adam had accepted his place with the _Hashashin_.

_Bold_.

_Impulsive_.

_Imprudent_.

So caught up in his thoughts, he didn't know Cass was near until she put her arms around him. He clasped her hands in his and held them against his chest.

"Are you all right," she whispered.

He nodded though he felt far from it.

"Isaac?"

Adam shrugged. "He's going to be in there awhile. I think I saw something he ate from two years ago."

He felt her shake her head and the moisture of her tears through his shirt. He turned and took her in his arms. Adam didn't know how long they stood there. Long enough for Geoff to come and go, and long enough for his thoughts to swirl downward again.

He was near tears himself, when Cass said, "Rachel is pretty. Courageous and bright too. I can see why you like her."

Adam smiled ruefully and released Cass. He spied the raki bottle on the table where presumably Isaac had left it—though, hadn't he been drinking whiskey?—and walked over to grab it. He took a swig.

"It's strange," Adam said quietly after a second large sip. "I always expected to eschew love like Isaac did. The thought of being with someone, and having someone else worry about me never appealed. But now? When Mark captured her, and I thought he would kill her, I..." Cass sat on the couch, and he joined her. He took another gulp from the bottle. "I guess that's why Isaac is so bitter about Rachel. I stopped at nothing to get her back and ignored every order that was counter to my goal."

"No," Cass said and pulled the raki from Adam's hand and set it on the accent table behind them. "Rachel's an easy scapegoat. What he is bitter about is he made several bad decisions and is now paying for them. He's probably been doing similar 'white-lies' and blatant misdirection for years now and expected this one to follow its predecessors into obscurity via regular statute of limitations."

Adam sighed. He didn't like thinking his brother was a liar or a cheat. "Why?"

Cass shrugged. "I don't know his motives. Probably competing with you to be the most successful of the family."

"But why? And at the expense of our line?"

"You did it as well."

_True_. Adam looked to his hands in his lap. His eyes traced the contours of his vambrace. The physical symbol of his prestigious lineage. What had he done? What legacy would he leave for his kids? His nephews? "What about your kids."

"We will survive," Cass said abruptly, defensively.

Adam turned toward her. "Two black marks—"

Cass clasped his hand in hers. "Yes. Two black marks. But you know who else has two black marks to their tree?" He shook his head. "Waller, Sevens, Hakimi, Qureshi, Boutros—"

"I get it," he said, cutting her off. "We're not the only ones." Regretfully, he had no idea there were that many _Hashashin_ families with black marks, let alone how many other names Cass was able to rattle off.

"My point is, it's not career ending... For you or the boys."

They were quiet for several beats before Adam spoke again. "You know, Darius knew Rachel, and I were a couple long before I did." Adam chuckled ruefully. "I'm no stranger to breaking the rules, but this—a relationship with a civilian?—this was so far out there even for me." Adam looked Cass in the eye. "How had he known? I never saw it coming, Cass, never."

"Darius has always been good at reading people. It's one of his greatest strengths. And then, he knows you well."

"You're right, of course." Adam sighed, slipping from her grasp to reach behind him for the raki bottle. He brought it to his lips and took a strong pull. His head felt calm, not yet fuzzy. He would need to stop drinking soon unless he wanted to join Isaac in praying to the porcelain god. "I only regret putting Rachel in danger."

"Adam, you have so much heart buried under all that bravado." Cass gave him a smile tinged with sadness. "I'm sure father would have wanted you to find that special someone. I know he loved Mother, and they were happy together despite the dangers. He'd want you to have the same." She looked him straight in the eyes and added, "But, I hope for both your sakes that you know what you're doing. Being with an _Hashashin_ is hard, living in fear of your partner dying at any point in time." She paused and grimaced. Adam knew she was thinking of their mother and the spiral of depression that consumed her after their father's death. It was one of the reasons why she'd quit being a _Hashashin_ after marrying Geoff. "Isaac thinks no woman should live with that fear. That you can't have both love and a career in the force. He might be right."

"I have no intention of dying anytime soon."

Cass laughed harshly. "I'm sure father didn't plan on dying either. Yet, he did. _Hashashin_ are a relic of the past, and we get outgunned a little more each year. The Order should find another way. But then, you know my position on the matter."

He took another sip and returned the bottle to the table behind him. "I do. I think you're wrong."

"Maybe."

"Let Ean and Caleb decide their own fate. Let them go through the training. I've talked to Geoff before. He knows the risks, the rewards, the pride in our history. Hell, he married you before you quit." He paused to gather his thoughts. "All I ask is to let the boys at least get through the basics. You said, Ean's doing well. Let him keep going."

"It's so dangerous, and they're so young; all they see is the glamour of the job, not its drawbacks."

"Yes." Adam reflected on his childhood memories. "But, if you decide for them, they will resent you later. I know I would have."

"I just... I want to protect them. If one of them died, I'm not sure I would—" Cass gritted her teeth.

Adam nodded. "I understand. I still wouldn't keep them away from their heritage, but it's not my decision. You know I'll back you whatever you decide."

"Thank you, Adam."

Adam stood, grabbed the bottle, tipped it back, and drank one last shot. It was late, and he should go to bed.

_Bed_.

His gaze strayed the direction of the guest room.

Rachel was there waiting for him. Adam smiled softly, wondering if she'd be receptive to some foreplay. They hadn't been together since the night of the hit—Not even for an innocent nap—and he missed the closeness.

He handed Cass the bottle of raki. "You want me to help you get Isaac to the couch?"

Cass chuckled and drank from the bottle. "No, let him sleep in the bathroom. He may find the proximity useful again before morning." Her statement ended in a big yawn.

"Okay. If you're sure."

"I am. He's fine in there."

"Good night, sis."

"Good night Adam," Cass said and stood up. She stopped him before he'd gone very far, "Oh, and Adam?"

"Yes?" He asked, turning towards her.

She tossed him a little box that he caught reflexively.

She smiled, "Be safe."

He looked down at the item in his hands. It was a box of condoms. "What are you saying, Cass? A minute ago—"

"I'm saying that you're better safe than sorry, little brother _and_ that I know you well."

***

Rachel lay under the covers of Cass and Geoff's guest bed. Her hands tucked up under her cheek as she stared at the door, wishing Adam would come in.

She checked the time on her cell phone. More than an hour had passed since Isaac's harsh words and hasty retreat to the bathroom. Fresh tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. He'd been so cruel, and the worst part was knowing he hadn't sugar-coated his feelings in any way. That knowledge bruised her heart unexpectedly, and she wondered if maybe she should have taken the "elimination" path with the order despite her strong desire to live.

Muffled sounds of footsteps in the hall reminded Rachel of how close her room was to all the others, and she brushed the wetness from her cheeks. If someone knocked, she didn't want to show how much she still hurt from earlier.

The door opened a crack. A familiar shadow slinked into the room, closed the door, and paused.

"It's okay," Rachel whispered. "I'm still awake."

"I'm sorry," Adam responded.

"It's okay," Rachel repeated.

"May I turn on a light for a moment?"

"Yeah. Sure."

The light flicked on and then off again.

Rachel then heard sounds of movement near their overnight bags. "You can leave the light on longer if you need too," she said, knowing how hard it is to find things in the dark.

"No need," he replied. "I'm done."

Rachel chuckled. "Already? What are you doing? Sleeping nude?"

"Didn't know that was an option." The bed dipped, and Adam slid under the covers next to her. She rolled over to face him, and he touched her cheek with his fingertips. "I'm sorry."

She supposed he'd felt her tears. "You said that already."

"I know, but it is true."

Rachel scooted forward to bury her face in his chest. He wrapped his arm around her back, pulling her tight to him. The position was a bit awkward, but Rachel didn't care. She needed his touch. They cuddled like that for many minutes until Rachel's arm began to go numb and shifted out of his embrace. When she leaned in to kiss him goodnight, she smelled alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" she asked, and immediately chastised herself. It wasn't her business to ask if Adam had gotten smashed like Isaac.

But before she could apologize, Adam replied, "Possibly, but not as deeply as Isaac."

He sounded forlorn.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "He might be an asshole to me, but he's still your brother."

"The position of _Stratigos_ comes with great responsibility. He failed to protect his men, failed to act in time, and he has to take responsibility. We all carry our failures with us."

He sighed deeply. "That doesn't excuse how he treated you."

Adam's hand slid down her side and stopped at her hip. He massaged her there. She felt torn. Rachel knew she should stop him—there were kids in the next room!—but she couldn't summon the will to do so. She'd been craving him for weeks now. His lips brushed hers, and when she responded, he deepened their kiss for a moment before retreating.

"Good night, Rachel."

"Good night."

#  Chapter 24

Rachel woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee.

_I smell pancakes_!

Her stomach growled in anticipation. "I hope they're chocolate," she murmured and rolled over to see if her statement had woken Adam, but he wasn't there. With a yawn and a stretch, Rachel got out of bed.

After changing, she plucked the USB drive from last night's pants' pocket.

She stared at it. Either shit or get off the pot, she chastised herself. It was beyond time for her to either turn it in or learn it's secrets. Closing her fingers around it, she shoved it into her pocket and left her room to find Cass. Maybe she had a PC Rachel could use. Rachel had to know what the drive contained. Something super important if it was capable of driving an Order agent to search her room, repeatedly, to find it. Once she knew, she could hand it over.

Stepping into the kitchen, she spied Adam by the stove. His back was to her as he tended to the cooking. Rachel stared at his backside clad in tight jeans, and at that exact moment, he glanced at her over his shoulder. She felt a blush forming on her cheeks. He smiled and used his spatula to point to something behind her. Turning in that direction, Rachel spied a small kitchen table and Cass sitting there with a mug poised in front of her.

Cass's eyebrow quirked, and Rachel quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught ogling Adam's rear end. She stepped closer to Adam and checked out what he was cooking. Her nose hadn't failed her. He was babysitting a griddle with several pancakes and strips of bacon on it.

"Chocolate?" she asked.

Adam bent to kiss her on the cheek. "You know it," he replied with a wink. "Now, go sit."

"Yeah. Sure. Okay," Rachel said and headed to the table.

"Morning, Rachel."

"Morning, Cass." After several beats of awkward silence, Rachel said, "Thanks for inviting me to dinner and making me feel welcomed."

"It was our pleasure. Did you sleep well?" Cass asked with a twitch of her lips.

"Cass," Adam cautioned, and Rachel cocked her head to the side, confused, and missing a subtext to the conversation.

"Yes," Rachel replied.

Cass's smile grew. "Good."

A plate appeared under Rachel's nose. She shot Adam a grateful smile as she took it from him. "Thanks."

"Enjoy," he said, and pointing to Cass with the flipper, he said, "Behave."

"Of course, little brother."

Adam huffed and left the table.

Cass turned her attention to Rachel. "How are you holding up—I mean, really?"

Rachel wiped her mouth and swallowed quickly. "I'm better now. The Fortress is beautiful, and Valis has been wonderful at helping me feel at home."

"He has?"

"Yes," Rachel said, at the same time as Adam also supplied, "He's even given her two tours and invited her to Hurston's memorial."

Cass's eyebrows rose.

"Is that unusual," Rachel inquired, concerned. It would be her luck to get special treatment when all she wanted was to lay low.

"No..." Cass replied, trailing off as her attention diverted to Adam behind Rachel. "You think it's because of the _offer_?"

"Thought crossed my mind," Adam answered.

"What offer?" Rachel asked as Adam added, "I haven't told her yet."

"Tell me what?" Rachel tried again.

"He's been offered the _Antipolemarchos_ position," Zach answered as he came in from the hall.

Cass and Adam both yelled, "Zach!" in unison.

"What? You were waiting for a better time?" he asked as he sat next to Rachel.

Rachel set down her fork and slowly turned to face Adam as Zach snagged a syrup covered pancake from her plate and shoved it in his mouth.

"Mmm. Good," Zach muttered around the food. "I love pancakes."

"Is this that promotion you were discussing on the way to the airport?" Rachel inquired.

Adam's shoulder's tensed as Zach said, "Yup."

"I haven't accepted yet," Adam said to the stove.

From behind her, Isaac muttered, "You'd be a bloody fool not to." Then he added, "I'm heading back to the Fortress. Want me to take Ean?"

Cass nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

"Anything to not share a car with this pillock. Ean!" He called, his voice barely above indoor volume.

"Yes, Uncle Isaac?"

"Pack up. The car will be here in ten."

"Yes, Uncle Isaac."

"I'll wait downstairs," Isaac said. "Good day, Cassandra."

Cass sighed. "You too, Isaac."

And then he was gone.

Rachel strained to hear his steps but tracked nothing. It didn't seem to matter, though, she still seemed to know the moment he exited. When she turned her attention back to Adam, she noticed his relaxed posture.

"He's not always that bad," Cass said, drawing Rachel's attention once again.

"Yes, he is," Adam countered, behind her.

"For you... maybe," Cass replied.

"Will Isaac be all right?" Zach asked.

"I don't know," Adam replied, arriving at their side with more pancakes. "Between bouts of"—Adam glanced at Rachel, then to her plate, then to Zach eating another of her pancakes—"When he was in the bathroom last night, he congratulated me on being the only true _Hashashin_ in the family." Cass shook her head. Adam continued, "I told him to get over himself. That a _Hashashin_ turned _Stratigos_ should have more pride."

"And," Cass prompted.

"Well, we paused a moment for him to—ah—take care of business, but then he said, 'He was a lousy field agent and an even lousier manager'. I tried to remind him he was the rock to which Mother leaned on, but he wouldn't listen." Adam paused, "Did you know there has been an attempt on the Supreme Commander's life?"

Rachel gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "An attempt on his life?"

Cass nodded. "I'd heard."

"All because of me..." Rachel said, sadness making her chest tight.

Cass patted her hand. "You couldn't do anything about it."

The reassurance didn't help Rachel feel any better.

Everyone was quiet for several beats. The only sound was the sizzle of bacon as it cooked. Finally, Rachel couldn't stand it any longer. She had to know more about the other bombshell of the morning. "What happens to you if you accept this promotion?"

Adam returned to her side. "I'll stay a _Hashashin_ until a _Lokhagos_ position at the Fortress opens up. Then, after a while, I'll move into a _Protolokhagos_ position. After that, I will apprentice with _Antipolemarchos_ Valis until fully trained to take on his roles."

"Is it as dangerous of a job?" Rachel asked, thinking of Adam's several assignments since she met him, and the news of the attempt on the Supreme Commander's life.

"Not normally," Zach answered, then amended after a quelling glance from Cass, "Well, sometimes."

"Okay," Rachel prompted.

"If the field is understaffed, or the mission is delicate, the _Antipolemarchos_ has the option to do the mission instead of assigning it," Adam answered.

"Does that happen normally?"

Cass shook her head. "I've only known of a few instances in our history where this was the case."

"Most of the time, the _Antipolemarchos_ rules from the safety of the Fortress," Zach added.

Rachel nodded once. Not sure how she felt about it. On the one hand, the reduced danger to Adam appealed, but on the other, she doubted he could stay away from that life.

"Zach!" Caleb yelled, bounding into the room. "Come play!"

Geoff materialized in the kitchen behind Caleb. "Sorry," he said. "Caleb's been wanting a video game playmate for weeks now that Ean no longer has time to indulge."

Zach smiled, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood. "That's okay, Geoff. I don't mind playing."

Caleb grabbed Zach's hand and pulled him from the room. "Dad—I mean, Father—set up the Xbox! We can play..."

But Rachel failed to hear the last of the child's statement because Adam said, "I'm sorry, Rachel. I meant to talk to you sooner. Only, we never seemed to have time."

Rachel waved her hand dismissively. "That's okay," she said, surprised to realize she meant it. Any other time, the revelation would have made her angry since he'd kept it from her, but then, she'd kept things from him too. Rachel's hand involuntarily slipped to her lap to pat the drive in her pocket.

_Still there_.

"Hey, Cass," she said, inadvertently interrupting a conversation between Cass and Geoff.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a PC I could borrow for a little while?"

Cass smiled. "Of course. What for?"

"Oh, um," Rachel hedged. "Dr. Campbell encouraged me to keep a journal while in isolation," she said, making up the story on the spot. "I've continued it since I've been out."

"And you wish to take a few minutes to write in it," Cass said, clearly drawing her own conclusion as to why Rache would ask, precisely as Rachel had wished. With a warm smile, she stood and said, "Follow me."

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." Rachel stood and followed Cass down the hall to the master suite.

After confirming the door to Cass and Geoff's bedroom was locked, Rachel sat at their PC. Her fingers shook as last-minute jitters threatened her resolve.

She uncapped the USB.

Rachel took a deep breath, pushed aside all her old reasons why she shouldn't find out what was on this drive, and proceeded with her should.

She plugged the USB into the appropriate slot, and while the PC did its thing, Rachel tried to slow her pounding heart.

A few seconds later, the PC prompted her to open the mounted drive.

Inside the directory was a single text file.

She double-clicked it.

Once it loaded, Rachel swallowed hard.

The file contained a single line of text, a line of text she recognized.

It was the same link Darius had given her yesterday.

Rachel glanced at Cass's door again. She had no idea how long she sat there at the desk, staring at the screen, but Rachel figured she didn't have much time left before someone came to investigate her journaling progress. She needed to finish with this USB.

Leaning back in the chair, she contemplated the known data points.

_Zach gets this disk at a future date, or the data on it, at least, or he wouldn't have forwarded it to Darius. That means, whoever was to get this disk, will be expecting that link, so I can't change the text, but..._ Rachel snapped her fingers. She knew what she could do. Rachel could change the document from a text file to one with a proprietary extension. From there, she knew what to do. There was one tiny catch, though. What if she no longer had access to her old website domains? The Order might have closed all her accounts when she died. Good thing confirming this type of detail was easy to do.

Clicking on the shortcut for the internet browser, Rachel navigated to one of her coding practice websites. "Hot damn," she murmured when her sandbox domain loaded. "Nobody closed it." Switching to the administration section of her website, she created a new file and opened it for editing. It would be simple from here on out. She'd create a redirect with a small, auto-generated email, which would send her a notification anytime someone accessed the link found on the drive. Then her program would forward the viewer to the original link's location.

A few minutes later, she finished building the web file, and Rachel moved on to the next step. Launching the document editor on Cass's PC, Rachel then copied the original link's text and pasted it into her new file. For the second step, she highlighted the text and changed the actual link to the one she controlled. The beauty of this plan was how she obscured the real URL from the user, and unless they went digging for it, they would never notice the difference.

After saving her work, she pulled the USB drive from its port—paused, then reinserted it.

What if the recipient only copied down the link and never clicked on it from her file? What then? After a moment of thought, the solution came to her. She'd add a macro to the file. It would send her a message if the file launched.

Diving back into the file, she added the relevant code, did a quick internet search to make sure she could have her macro load silently, and then saved her new program.

Satisfied, she logged out of the PC and left the room.

Voices on the other side of the apartment drew Rachel forward, and she found everyone in the main living room. Adam stood in the archway. His shoulder was resting against the wall. She sidled up to him, and Adam tucked her under his arm. With her body perpendicular to his side, she found a natural resting spot for her hands on his taut stomach. Heat flared in her heart, and the desire to rub her fingers over his abdominal muscles was nearly impossible to ignore.

Adam chuckled, and at first, she thought he'd read her mind, but a glance to his eyes, proved his attention elsewhere. Rachel followed his gaze to the TV, where he, Cass, and Geoff were watching Zach play the latest stealthy assassin game. Caleb was leaning on Zach's non-broken arm, bouncing in exuberance. "Sneak attack, Zach! Do the sneak attack!"

"All right. All right," Zach said as he obliged the boy. The on-screen protagonist leapt from a cliff to land on a figure below.

"Is it anything like that," Rachel asked, quietly, remembering their flight across rooftops and his next jump from a second-story window.

Adam's lips pinched together as if he were trying not to laugh. "No. Doing it that way," he said with a pointed finger, "is flashy. It's guaranteed to result in a mistake, but it does make for impressive game mechanics." After a beat, he added, "The developers did get one thing right." His thumb brushed along her shoulder. "The hidden blade was straight from the Order's history books, but that weapon is firmly retired now." He glanced at her and smiled. "A device which practically guaranteed you'd lose a finger? Well, it doesn't have much success as a useful weapon, regardless of if you are in the Order, an Org agent, part of the Illuminati, or a Templar." He flexed his hand. "Deformities—even one as small as a lost finger—tended to make a person stand out." Adam signed and rubbed his brow. "And standing out is dangerous." He grew quiet again, and they watched Zach's game reload after one too many failed attempts to kill the target.

#  Chapter 25

It was shortly after noon when Cass's phone buzzed, and as she checked it, she groaned

"What is it?" Geoff asked.

"I forgot about a meeting I have this afternoon," she answered. Turning to Adam and Rachel, she said, "You're free to stay here, but I need to call for a car and go to the office."

"We'll come with you," Adam replied, and Rachel nodded. The whole point of their visit was to see her.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh," he said, standing. "I'll go pack up our things."

Rachel stood. "Need me?"

Adam shook his head. "Zach?"

Zach closed the game without a second's hesitation. "On it."

Adam, Zach, and Cass left the room, leaving Rachel with Geoff. For a few moments, she stood, indecisive. Should she follow? But after a moment or two of awkward silence, Rachel sat instead. "Geoff?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sure everyone here knows this already, but why the hard to pronounce titles, like, _Antipolemarchos_ , or _Lokhagos_ , or _Hashashin_? Why not use something easier to say? I've heard the Grand Master and Supreme Commander used sometimes."

"By 'easy' do you mean the anglicize version? Because for some, the anglicized words are harder to say."

Rachel flushed. Up until Geoff's clarifying question, she'd never thought about how ethnocentric and downright dismissive she'd sounded.

Geoff continued, "The titles go back to the founding of the Order. The Byzantine Empire was thriving at the time. A rich and powerful empire. Crusaders had to ally themselves to survive. As they grew, they mixed with the culture and military structure of the old Empire and its Greek ancestry, giving us the military titles we use for our leaders.

"As for the _Hashashin_... The _Hashashin_ themselves are—were—Muslim. A religious and political group of Ismaili faith, a branch of Shia Islam that did not mesh with the Christian world. Technically they still don't."

Geoff smiled. " _Hashashin_ made for good mercenaries when came the time to silently eliminate an enemy, and as the news of God's Library traveled, more and more people became interested in possessing those relics. Until, finally, _the Order of the Guardians of God_ tasked themselves with protecting them."

Adam spoke from the doorway, "Of course, the Order historians today don't like to admit it; it wasn't very honorable, being a religious order and all, but that's still what happened. When you think about it, the _Hashashin_ should never have gotten in league with, what was at the time, a crazy Christian religious sect. But, they did, and here we are."

"Yes. But the _Hashashin_ weren't an elite group of soldiers for few more centuries," Geoff clarified.

"What do you mean?" Rachel queried.

Zach quipped, "In 1256 when the Mongols destroyed the _Hashashin_ stronghold, the survivors fled to Constantinople and asked the _Polemarchos_ of the time for protection."

"The Grand Master didn't have much bargaining power and had to be absorbed into the Order to survive. They've been our 'special forces' so to speak ever since, ready to kill to protect the content of that cave, and later, the other caches we've discovered."

"How many caches are there," Rachel asked. "Does anyone know?"

"We have seven under our control, but the Org has their own," Geoff answered.

"Distressingly," Cass added. "There have been several attempts at stealing it back and securing it, but with each attempt, the Org. gets craftier at protecting it, and we've yet to succeed."

"The last attempt was in the nineteen-eighties," Zach tacked on.

"Isn't that when Grandpa Haddad died?" Caleb asked.

Cass, Adam, and Geoff nodded.

"He went into the cave with ZT and a few others. He and ZT never returned," Geoff answered.

Rachel couldn't help it; her gaze sought Zach's. He looked to the floor, his brows furrowed. _Does he know? Impossible_ , she negated. As far as she knew, he'd yet to time travel.

Cass's phone chirped. "They'll be here in thirty minutes," she said, after reading the text.

Rachel wondered what the Order did to secure their messages. She once had a friend who worked for the NSA. The friend's job had been to study the data packets at the transfer protocol level. _Not much job portability in that skill_ , Rachel thought with a twinge of sadness at the reminder of another lost friendship. She sighed. She didn't have any real friends here in the Order. Zach was great, but he wasn't Mindy, Shay, or Sarah—her friend since elementary school.

When Rachel tuned back into the conversation, she found everyone had moved on to a new topic.

"Have you decided?" Cass was asking.

"No, Cass!" Adam sounded exasperated. "Give it a rest."

"Give what a rest," Rachel asked, embarrassed to admit she hadn't been listening.

"The promotion," Zach quipped.

"Oh," Rachel remarked and turned a hopeful gaze to Adam. "Why?"

"Why what, Rachel," Adam asked, his tone fatigued.

A zing snapped in her heart at his tone. She hadn't meant to annoy him. "Why haven't you decided? It sounds like a good deal. Even Isaac said, 'you'd be a damn fool' not to take it. What's keeping you from marching down to _Antipolemarchos_ 's desk when we get back and telling him yes?"

Adam sighed. "You."

"Me?" Rachel asked. "What about me?"

"We haven't had a chance to discuss it. I won't accept the offer 'til we do."

"Oh. Um. That's..." Rachel stammered. It was sweet, honorable, polite, and most of all, respectful of him to abide by their deal to discuss everything before making any decisions, but he needn't have worried. She knew her answer, so there was no need to debate it further—That is, of course, if he wanted it. "I think if you want it, you should do it."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, if I take the position, I'll never transfer away from the Fortress."

"I know."

"That means if you are with me—if our petition is accepted,"—At those words, Cass and Geoff clasped hands, and Geoff gave Cass a look of love. Rachel wanted that with a ferocity that bordered on a pain in her chest.—"and you agree—you'll never leave either."

She gulped. "I know." She did know that, but hearing it out loud was sobering.

Yet, what did she have to go back to in the United States? She could never live in St. Louis again, and there was nowhere else in the States which appealed. It was then, her memories of intricate mosaics, bright sun through open skylights, and the presence of improvable butterflies flitting around alcove flowers, replayed in her mind, giving her warm fuzzies about Istanbul. Besides, if they stayed here, then she'd be able to see Zach. Having at least one friend besides Adam, and maybe Cass, was a massive pro in favor of the Fortress.

He quirked an eyebrow and restated his question, "And you're okay with staying? Without discussing this more?"

Rachel shrugged. "I'm good."

Adam smiled. It was his genuine one, the one that made his eyebrow scar show white as his muscles pulled at his brow. He gathered her into an embrace. "Are you sure, Rachel? Completely? I'll walk away if you don't want it. No hesitation. No regrets."

"No," she said. "This is the right choice. Take the job, Adam."

He kissed her, much to her dismay, and the jubilant whoops and hollers of Adam's family. "I'll tell the _Antipolemarchos_ when we get back."

"Great," Rachel said.

Adam nodded. "But first, we have to get back." He glanced at Cass, "The car's here."

"Yes."

Adam released her, and after a few quick goodbyes, the four adults were heading downstairs with their blindfolds.

***

"You all right?" Adam asked her for the hundredth time as they entered his room after arriving back at the fortress from Cass's house. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet."

"I'm fine. All's good."

Did her voice just squeak?

Adam raised his eyebrow. "Are you changing your mind?"

"No! No," she said again, quieter.

He was quiet for a few moments, before finally saying, "I'm going to shower before speaking with _Antipolemarchos_. Want to join me?"

She smiled but shook her head. "You go ahead. I'm going to head back to my room." _...the room that's probably been searched again_.

"I meant in the shower."

Rachel shook her head in dismay. The last thing she wanted to do was an activity that could get Adam—or herself—into any more trouble, especially since they hadn't received permission about making their relationship formal, yet. "No! I'll shower in my room."

Adam shrugged, grabbed the neckline of his shirt with one hand, and stripped it off.

Rachel's mouth dried and her steps faltered.

The cocky jerk seemed please with the effect he had on her, and when his hand dropped to his waistband, Rachel whirled around and yanked open the door.

Standing right outside, with his hand poised to knock, was Darius. "Ms. Munro?"

Rachel opened and closed her mouth a few times. What rotten luck! Here she was, in Adam's room, blushing to beat the band, with her new mentor looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She didn't know what to say.

Was there anything she could say?

Woo-boy were they in trouble!

"Hello, Darius," Adam said, from behind her as he slid his arms around her waist. Rachel turned her head to look at Adam's profile, as he inquired, "Need something?"

_Did he just wink at Darius_?

Darius glanced at the ceiling as if for inspiration—or maybe patience. "Ms. Munro, please tell me he is wearing something. Anything."

"Er," Rachel sputtered, feeling a very free-swinging part of Adam's anatomy pushed up against her backside. She blushed harder.

Darius sighed. "Black, go put some pants on, there's a mission for you. Report to _Antipolemarchos_ for details."

"You got it," he replied and disappeared.

"And Ms. Munro," Darius said.

"Yes?"

"We have some things to discuss with you. Please follow me."

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." Over her shoulder, she added, "I'll catch up to you later."

"Understood," came Adam's muffled reply.

Exiting his room, Rachel joined Darius in the hall. As they walked, she asked, "So, what's up?"

"Paulette is available now to speak with you. I wished to be there to make the introductions."

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed as she pulled the USB from her pocket. No reason not to tell Darius about it now that she'd confirmed it held the same information he'd already given her.

Darius stopped cold, his hand grasping her forearm tightly. "Where did you get that?"

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, guilt rearing its ugly head once again at his tone. "I know I should have told the Order about this a long time ago—"

"Ms. Munro—" he interjected.

"—I found this USB in Mark's lab when Adam and I searched it," she continued without pausing, afraid if she stopped, he'd start yelling. "I meant to hand it over to Adam when we left the labs, but then I was in isolation. Then free. Then here. Then the trials. Before I knew it, so much time passed—"

"Ms. Munro—" he interrupted again.

"—Then I was too afraid to hand it over because I'd held onto it for too long," she rushed. "But yesterday, I got up the nerve to looked at it on Cass's computer. Darius! It has the same link you gave me!"

"I know," he replied and paused. After a deep breath, he said, "That's the drive that was in the package from ZT."

"It was?!"

"You say you took it from Mark's lab?"

Rachel nodded.

Darius studied her for a moment, and she squirmed.

"I'm sorry I kept it from the Order," Rachel added, contrite.

Darius waved his hand dismissively. "I understand why you did, but now I'm in a unique position." Darius resumed walking.

Rachel followed. "Uh, how so?"

"If that's the drive our future Mr. Alexander sends us, and I confiscate it from you now as protocol demands, then how does it get to him?"

"I... uh..." she stalled. That was a good question.

"I could assume my actions bring it to his attention, but this feels wrong—or more accurately—incomplete, but if I do not report it and turn it in, then I am in serious violation." Darius was quiet for several beats, and Rachel wondered what he was thinking. Eventually, he added, "Keep it for now. I don't know how, when, or why, but that drive will get into our Mr. Alexander's hands, and we need that event to happen. You read the letter. Adam's life depends on it."

"But what about your superiors? I don't think I could handle it if a third person gets into trouble with the Order because of me."

Darius patted her on the shoulder. "Do not worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll speak to _Antipolemarchos_ and _Polemarchos_ immediately. They will understand the implications and my choice."

"Yeah. Okay. Sure," Rachel said, unsure, and they completed their journey to a conference room, in silence.

#  Chapter 26

Adam strode down the hall, a happy bounce to his step. He hadn't realized until the moment Rachel said go for it, how much his decision to take the promotion depended on her acceptance of its limitations. Now that he had her approval, he could tell the _Antipolemarchos_.

Entering the anterior room to _Antipolemarchos_ Valis's office, Adam came to a stop and waited for Bart to look up. When he did, Adam greeted with a drawled, "Bartholomew."

Bart glared, and Adam grinned.

Pointing a pen at him, Bart said, "Ha, Ha. Now knock it off."

Adam dropped the overly-happy grin. "Is _Antipolemarchos_ ready to see me?"

"Sure is," Bart replied. "Go on in."

Adam gave Bart a quick nod before stepping into the _Antipolemarchos_ office. It was as opulent as the _Polemarchos_ 's chambers, and as Adam glanced around, he noted the decor with more awareness than he'd usually show for a room.

To think. This office might be Adam's someday.

The thought was humbling.

And exciting.

There was always a chance he wouldn't live to see it, but if he did get here, then it would make his Mother and Father very happy.

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis smiled and indicated Adam should sit. "I have a mission for you," he began.

Leaning forward, Adam said, "Oh?"

"It is a little different from what you would normally handle, but I feel you are up to the task." _Antipolemarchos_ Valis tapped a file with his fingertip. "It has come to our attention, a man named Abhay Kulkarni is selling weapons to the Organization."

"What kind of weapons?"

"God's Library ones."

Adam frowned. "How? Why? Isn't he's an Org. member?"

"Indeed, he is. A low member in the hierarchy, and until recently, he showed no interest in gaining prestige. Reports from our informant have led us to believe that Abhay has no aspirations to climb the social ladder within the Org. at all, aside from periodic monetary gain."

Adam indicated his agreement to _Antipolemarchos_ Valis's last statement with a twitch of his eyebrow and a roll of his eyes. Selling anything to the Org. would be an excellent way to make a quick buck, assuming, of course, you had the goods. _Wait_? "Why is the Org buying from him? They could just demand he hand it over."

"He is hiding his dealings through layers of deceit and plying his wares through dark channels. I do not believe the Org. knows who they are buying their weapons from."

Adam huffed a laugh. "So, the Org. doesn't even know they're buying their own shit from their own members? How have they survived this long?"

"Perplexing, I agree."

"Who's the informant?"

"Not for you to know," _Antipolemarchos_ Valis replied.

Adam nodded and sat back, unbothered. All his missions were on a need to know basis, so not knowing the informant wasn't out of the ordinary. "What would you like me to do?"

"Your mission is to find Abhay Kulkarni and bring him back to the Fortress for questioning. You are to treat him with the utmost care and finesse. Do your best to keep him hale, but not at the expense of your own life."

"Understood," Adam said.

"He may be the one behind the recent attack on the _Polemarchos_."

"Really?" Adam said as he leaned forward and pulled the file across the desk. He flipped it open, noting the details quickly. "This is an impressive list of aliases. Is there anyone else assigned to this mission?" Adam asked.

"A few," _Antipolemarchos_ Valis answered. "I have a small group researching the names provided by our contact and following any leads those names may generate. After we finish here, I will take you to meet them."

Adam grunted his agreement as he continued to peruse the file. At the end of the first page, he said, "This is going to take a while."

"Understood. And although you do not have a deadline—"

Adam's head snapped up in surprise. "No deadline?"

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis smiled. "—I trust you will be prompt." After Adam made a small noise of agreement, _Antipolemarchos_ Valis added, "Now, tell me. What else did you need to talk about."

It took a moment for the question to register and make sense before Adam could respond. "My family and I agree to your offer of promotion."

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis sat back, steepled his fingers, and tapped his lips.

"And Ms. Munro?"

Adam shrugged. "She was the final deciding factor."

"I suspected as much."

"I don't know if she fully grasps that the danger won't be gone, but she does wish to make a home here."

"Excellent. I had hoped you both would agree." He pointed to the file in Adam's hands. "Shall we meet the other members of your team?"

"My team?"

"Yes," _Antipolemarchos_ Valis said as he stood. "You didn't think the researchers would report to me, did you?" He gave Adam a self-deprecating smile, before adding, "I'm not the one chasing a man with hundreds of aliases, am I?"

"Point made."

In a chipper tone, _Antipolemarchos_ Valis said, "Then let us adjourn here, and move our meeting to conference room 217."

"All right," Adam agreed, joining _Antipolemarchos_ Valis as he left the office. Both men nodded goodbye to Bart as they walked out.

"Is Kulkarni is stealing from his own cache, ours, or someone else's?" Adam asked as he resumed reading Kulkarni's file.

"I don't know. It is possible—though, highly unlikely—Abhay has found his own secret store of tech, but I suspect he has been using items he's secured in his black-market dealings. I have full confidence he is not getting his product from our controlled caches. This question is only one of many that we need answered." After a minor pause, _Antipolemarchos_ Valis added, "I will include you on the interrogation team."

"Understood," Adam replied right as a familiar—yet, matured—voice yelled, "Adam! Adam!" Adam turned to the speaker. "Adam!" Zach yelled as he ran toward them. Adam's eyebrow quirked. Something was different about Zach. For one, his hair was longer, not by much, but Adam noticed since they'd both gone to the resident barber yesterday for a haircut. Two, Zach had a watch, which he was checking. Adam and his trainees never wore watches. Three, there were faint scars on Zach's ears as if he'd stretched them with gauges at one time, but then had the holes surgically closed.

Adam shook his head. _Gauges_? Zach would never have done something that stupid, but the evidence was there. Sadly, the scarring and watch weren't the worst of Zach's new little oddities.

No...

The worst was Zach looked older, filled out, and haggard as if he'd served time in prison or on a military front line. But how could that be? It was less than an hour ago when they'd parted ways after leaving Cass's house.

Zach finally skidded to a halt in front of Adam, gave a sharp nod to _Antipolemarchos_ , and said, " _Antipolemarchos_." Then to Adam, he said, "Has Rachel deciphered the drive yet? Has she?"

"ZT?" _Antipolemarchos_ Valis inquired. His tone confused. Surprised. "Zachary?"

Zach waved his hand, ignoring the ranking man.

Irritation flared in Adam. "Be respectful, Zach. The _Antipolemarchos_ is speaking with you."

"Adam!" Zach yelled, ignoring him and grabbing Adam by the arms.

Shock rippled through Adam. Zach would never have dared touch Adam in such a familiar way. He was about to chastise Zach again when a jewel at Zach's collar caught Adam's eye.

It was a family crest pin.

His family's crest pin.

But disturbingly, his crest was surrounded by the standard additions and adornments declaring his line as one of the _Antipolemarchos_.

Adam glanced at _Antipolemarchos_ Valis's pin, then back to Zach. Adam didn't know how or why, but he was looking at a physical declaration that the Black—not Haddad—family had achieved the rank of _Antipolemarchos_ before he'd even begun training for it. His eyebrow lifted, and he muttered, "huh."

"Has Rachel figured out what's on that drive yet? The one you took from her? The one from Mark's lab?" Zach asked, interrupting his thoughts. "It's important."

"Drive?" Adam asked. His confusion and anger grew. A drive? From Mark's lab? Had Rachel hid something from him?

Exasperated, Zach added a shake to Adam's shoulders as he yelled, "Has she deciphered it?!"

"What drive?"

Zach groaned and yanked at his hair, and as an aside, he said, "She has to figure it out! Soon!" He glanced at his watch again. "It's any day now... _Madre_ , it's tomorrow!" Addressing Adam, Zach asked, "Where is she now? I need to speak to her. I need to tell her what to look for."

"I don't know," Adam replied. "She left with Darius a few minutes after we returned."

"Her mission. Right," Zach nodded. " _Antipolemarchos_ , where were they meeting?"

"Conference room, 237."

Zach turned, muttering, "Good, I'll—"

But Zach never finished his sentence.

He disappeared.

Poof.

Gone.

As in "Not fucking there anymore".

" _Siciym Ya_!"

"My thoughts exactly," _Antipolemarchos_ agreed.

Adam barely heard him, pivoting, he walked briskly to the conference room. He'd focus on the magical disappearing act in a minute. First, he had to discover if what Zach had said was true. Was Rachel lying to him?!

Repeatedly.

It was one thing when her lies were about her feelings. Adam could forgive and ignore those to let her save face. It was another entirely when it was about evidence, evidence he had an obligation to turn in due to his status as her mentor and trainer.

This could get them both into so much trouble.

On the way to the conference room, he spied Rachel coming down the hall toward him. She smiled and waved.

"Where's the disk?" he barked as he drew near.

Rachel flinched, removing all doubt about her deception.

She _had_ lied to him.

"Disk?" Rachel asked, flicking her gaze to _Antipolemarchos_ behind Adam.

_Siktir_!

"Hand, it over," Adam commanded. "Now."

She dipped her hand into her pocket, her fingers fisted, closing over something. Her motion sparked a memory, several, in fact. Adam replayed each one. He'd seen her do the same action countless times since her rescue.

_Double fuck_!

He couldn't believe it. The evidence had been in front of his eyes all along, and he'd ignored it!

Rachel held out the device. It was a USB stick precisely, as Zach had said.

"You've been hiding this from me?" Adam bit out, incredulous.

"Adam—"

He made a violent chopping motion with his hand to cut her off.

His trainee had lied to him.

His!

For months!

They were going to be in so much trouble!

"I'm—," she said at the same time as _Antipolemarchos_ said, "It's the—"

"Dammit, Rachel!" he grabbed it from her.

Spinning around, Adam stepped toward the office wing, but as he did so, his gaze clashed with Simon's. Simon broke eye contact to look at Adam's hand. His eyes widened. Adam's fist tightened on the drive, and he bared his teeth at the other _Hashashin_ in anger, daring Simon to start a fight, to remark on Adam's newest disgrace, or, frankly, to comment on anything at all. "I'm taking this to the _Polemarchos_ ," he forced passed clenched teeth. "Now. Hopefully, you haven't gotten me fired over this."

"Good luck," Simon said with a soft chortle.

"Don't start with me," Adam growled as he barreled past. "Just. Don't start with me."

***

Rachel's hands shook, and she shoved them into her pockets. "I'm sorry, _Antipolemarchos_. I meant to hand it over sooner. I did. It's just—"

"I know, child," _Antipolemarchos_ Valis said. "Speak nothing more on it for now. It is still classified."

Rachel nodded, her eyes drawn to Simon, who'd turned to face her.

She didn't like what she saw in his expression.

Eagerness. Excitement. Glee. Satisfaction.

"I knew you were trouble from the first moment I saw you," Simon said with a smirk. "Now you've proven it. I hope he's kicked out of the Order. It would serve him right."

"Enough, Fitzgerald," _Antipolemarchos_ ordered.

"Sir," Simon said, snapping his mouth shut. He spun on his heel and left in the same direction Adam had gone.

Rachel twisted back to _Antipolemarchos_. "I didn't get him kicked out, did I?" God, she hoped not. It would kill her if he lost his position and chance at promotion because of her actions.

_Antipolemarchos_ held out his hands, and Rachel placed hers in his. _Antipolemarchos_ closed his warm fingers on them. "He won't be removed from his office for this. I promise."

"Okay," she whispered, trusting him, her gaze straying to the end of the hall where Adam had disappeared. "Okay."

***

Abhay grinned, as Simon said, "You were right. It was that slag, Rachel, all along. She had it in her pocket."

"Good." The news wasn't new. Abhay had heard the whole exchange through Simon's phone as it had unfolded, but it was nice for the _Hashashin_ to confirm it. "Did he touch it directly? The drive?"

"Yes. He grabbed it from her and palmed it fully."

Abhay bit his cheek to hide his excitement. He wouldn't even have to try to get a sample from Adam for the FGRT. The man had provided it already by merely touching the drive. This task couldn't have gone any better if Abhay had planned it. "Retrieve the USB, but _do not_ touch it under any circumstances."

"Why?"

Ignoring the question, Abhay continued, "And if the data is good, I will log your payment as received in full."

"Then, you'll do it? You'll kill him?"

"Yes."

Simon chuckled, but after a moment he sobered, "How are you going to do it? I won't sneak you in here."

"Let me worry about that," Abhay deflected. "You get me that USB and leave everything else up to me."

***

Adam barged into the _Polemarchos_ 's office, but neither he nor his assistant, Beatrice, were there.

_Siciym Ya_!

Adam licked his lips and tapped his fist against his mouth. The press of plastic warned him of his fidgeting, and he lowered his hand. _Now what_?

Adam dithered but finally decided on leaving the drive on the _Polemarchos_ 's desk with a note explaining what it was and why Adam had left it for him. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep Adam and Rachel from further repercussions.

He sighed.

After completing his task, he left, closing the door tight behind him. In the hallway, he encountered Simon loitering nearby. "What do you want?" Adam demanded. "To gloat? Rub my nose in it? Sing 'naa-nannie-boo-boo'?"

Simon shook his head. "Nope. Needed to see the Polemarchos. Dr. Haddad-Davis's orders."

Adam harrumphed. "He's not here."

Simon shrugged and pushed away from the wall. "Thanks," he said. "I'll try back later."

Adam nodded once, then turned, leaving Simon in the hall as he marched toward the gym. His hands balled into fists. This newest mistake could be his family's third black mark. If it were, it would put him too close to the maximum allowed.

He clenched his teeth. Adam was so angry that he needed to punch something. He would go to the training room. It would be the perfect place.

***

"You think he's coming?" Rachel asked Zach several hours later as they sat at the dinner table, eating their meal.

"I don't know, Rach," Zach replied. "I don't know."

#  Chapter 27

"A room for the night, please," Abhay requested.

"For the two of you?" the clerk confirmed.

"Yes," Abhay replied absent-mindedly, uncaring of how it might look to the clerk for two men to be checking into a hotel room together. The room was a decoy, after all—a ruse for their more immediate task of the deal's closing. Abhay had to confirm the data on the USB drive was legitimate before finalizing the _Hashashin_ 's purchase. Abhay didn't like working this way—rushed, and without his usual digital forensic tools—but he'd let it go this time.

"Smoking?" the clerk asked, and as the man and Abhay exchanged information for the room rental, Abhay studied the drive in his hand. Such a small, unassuming device. If everything went according to plan, it held the link to the schematics he needed.

"Your room, sir," the clerk said as he handed over a key.

"Thank you," Abhay said as he took it into his gloved hand. "Oh, I forgot to ask, do you have a PC I could use?"

"Of course, sir. The room is down the hall and to the left. Bring your key, or you will be unable to enter the room."

"Thank you," Abhay said, nodding his understanding. To Simon, he added, "Come along, dear."

Simon growled at him, and Abhay snickered.

At the end of the hall, Abhay and Simon turned left and found the PC room exactly where the clerk said it would be. Swiping his card, Abhay entered it. Turning, he bared Simon's entry. "One moment," he said, and before the _Hashashin_ could react, Abhay closed the door. He waited for the satisfactory click of the lock engaging before sighing a deep breath of relief. He'd had doubts about his speed at locking the _Hashashin_ out, but he'd managed to surprise him enough to succeed.

Abhay held his finger up to the window to give Simon a "one-moment" indicator, then moved to the first PC, which did not have the monitor facing the windowed wall. Sitting down, he flashed Simon a quick smile and earned a frown in response. Abhay swallowed back his chuckle.

Moving the mouse, he confirmed the PC was on.

Carefully, Abhay maneuvered the USB drive to the top of the plastic bag. Sliding it above the bag's opening, he then gently uncapped the USB with his other gloved hand, and using the bag as an additional barrier between his potential DNA imprint and the device, he plugged it in.

Once the PC registered his disk, he opened the directory and clicked the file icon. A generic "do you wish to open this file from an unidentified source" prompt popped, asking him to choose yes or no. Abhay clicked yes, uncaring if there were viruses or trojans embedded in the drive he was using. If the PC became corrupt or otherwise unusable after this visit, it didn't matter. As for the USB? Well, he only needed the data today. If the data self-destructed after this use, it was okay. The next time he would use the disk, it would be in the FGRT. After that, he would destroy it.

Turning his attention back to the PC, he noted the link displayed as text on the page. Opening his phone's browser, he typed in the URL and hit go. After a second, the web page loaded, and Abhay entered the password given to him by Jorge. When the credentials worked, he snorted. The password was laughably easy if you knew Jorge at all.

Why was it that even the smartest scientists tended to be the dumbest at creating secure passwords? Abhay shook his head. It was a marvel of the modern world. One Abhay would have to ponder on another day.

Perusing the files quickly, he confirmed everything looked to be in order per his agreement with the deceased man. Abhay yanked the drive from the PC and sealed the plastic bag before pocketing it. Rejoining Simon in the hall, he said, "Everything is as expected." Walking back toward the clerk, he added, "You will have your results sometime tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes," Abhay replied as he dropped the hotel key back on the clerk's desk with a wink.

"You better follow through—"

"Or what?" Abhay said, cutting him off.

They were silent until they left the hotel. Resuming the conversation, Abhay asked, "You are not the only dangerous man I deal with inside the Order or out of it." After a pause, he added, "Really Fitzgerald, do you think, for one second, if I didn't deliver on my promises that I would still be here?" When Simon didn't reply, Abhay continued, "I didn't think so. Now, good day, and may I never see you again."

And with that, they went their separate ways.

***

Looking over his shoulder, Abhay confirmed no one followed, and he fished his burner phone out of his pocket. He dialed the correct dealer's number. When the woman answered, he said, "Inform the buyer that I have their schematics. Then coordinate a time when the handoff can be processed."

"Yes, sir," the woman said.

"I will contact you when I get back to London."

"Understood," she replied and hung up.

Abhay smiled, erased the call history, and chucked the phone across the street. _Let some poor schmuck find it and use it_. Pulling out his real mobile, Abhay placed a call to his airline of choice. Tomorrow he would go home, collect on his four million pounds in newly acquired funds, and enjoy several days of well-earned rest.

***

The next morning, dawned clear and bright. Abhay took out his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. The early morning sunlight was intense, and Abhay—overdressed for the day's heat—baked where he stood, but it would be fine. In a few short hours, he would be on a plane and back in London where he belonged.

Whistling, Abhay hailed a cab, and when one stopped in front of him, he got in.

"Airport," he requested and took the FGRT out of his bag. He popped the USB into the appropriate slot, looked out the window to sight the ruins of the Fortress, and pulled the trigger. Nothing appeared to happen, but he supposed he should have expected that. He'd find out if it worked as soon as he listened to Simon's phone feed.

Shoving the FGRT back into his bag, Abhay sat back, content to daydream about his next paycheck and how to get rid of Mark now that Abhay no longer needed him.

#  Chapter 28

Yawning wide, Rachel covered her mouth. "Sorry," she murmured to the image of Paulette. The video conferencing software glitched, freezing the frame and giving Paulette a wiggly lined face for a moment. Rachel waited for the image to unlock before Rachel added, "You mind if we break? I need some coffee before debugging that section."

"Not a problem," Paulette replied, her voice sounded tinny through the laptop's sub-par speakers. "In fact, why don't we knock off for the day."

Rachel yawned again. "Sounds good," she said, and even though it was only a half-hour after seven in the morning, she'd been up since five am working with Paulette on their brute-force algorithm.

"Talk to you later," Paulette said.

"Yeah," Rachel said, rubbing her eyes with one hand and hung up the conference call with the other. Once disconnected, she hibernated her machine, tucked it under her arm, and left her room for the cafeteria.

A few minutes later, when she found the room without mishap, she said a quiet "Hurrah" and entered. Across the room, she spied Zach. He was in line for breakfast. When he saw her, he waved her over. Joining him, she asked, "Did he ever come back to his room?"

"No," Zach replied. "Or if he did, I never heard him."

She sighed. Rachel sincerely hoped Adam wasn't giving her the silent treatment. He never had before, but there was always a first time. "I'm sorry, what did you ask me?"

"Did you ever report those room searches of yours?"

"No," Rachel said, yawning again. "I forgot about it yesterday." What with Adam's anger and all, she'd been to worried about whether her room had been searched or not.

"I think you should mention it," Zach urged as they inched forward, grabbing items for himself.

Rachel gave him a non-committal grunt as she plunked some oatmeal onto her tray.

When they finished the line, Zach said, "I'm going to go get orange juice. Want anything?"

"Nah," Rachel answered. "I'll grab us a table."

"In the corner," they both said in unison, then "Jinx!" a second later and at the same time.

They laughed.

"Go get your juice."

"You got it."

Setting down her tray, Rachel jumped when Zach touched her back, leaning in to whisper, "Have you figured out what is on the drive, yet?"

"How did you... That's classified—"

"I know, but did you?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Adam took the drive from me yesterday, but—"

"Damn, you need to get it back," Zach murmured, cutting her off, and glanced at his watch.

_When did he get a watch_? Rachel wondered.

He whipped around to face the archway door. " _Merde_ , it's now!"

"Huh?" she asked, but before the question had entirely left her, there was a faint scream from the hallway. It drew her gaze, and when she looked for Zach, he was no longer next to her ear. She found him standing next to the juices across the room. _How did he get over there so fast_? Their gazes caught, but then he glanced at the door before heading her way.

"What was that about?" she asked.

Zach glanced at the ground. "Dunno," he replied. "Training exercise, maybe? Fire drill in one of the wings?"

Rachel shook her head. The scream had been odd, but not what she'd meant. "No, Zach, I meant the bit about the drive and Adam taking it from me. Why did you want to know?"

"I, uh, Rach," he said, frowning. "What are you talking about? What drive?"

"But, you were..." Rachel trailed off, eyeing him, but now that she thought about it, the Zach who'd asked about the drive didn't look like the Zach holding his juice. No, the 'Drive' Zach had earlobes with visible stitches, wore a watch, and had a navy colored sweater on, but 'Juice' Zach in front of her, wore a blue T-shirt and grey sweats, had perfectly fine ears without a single suture to be found.

Had she been speaking with the future ZT?

She looked at the door and then back to Zach.

"Rach?"

She glanced at the door again. What had ZT said? Something about it being now— "Oh, God," she whispered. The scream! "Adam?"

Rachel stood, took two faltering steps toward the door—unsure of where to go, of where he was—when a young woman ran in.

" _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti? I need _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti? Has anyone seen him?!"

A chorus of "no" and "what happened" filled the air.

"There's been an attack on the Fortress! I think the _Hashashin_ Black and the _Polemarchos_ are dead!"

***

Adam's whole body hurt, from his eyes to his ears to his toenails. Hell, even his asshole ached. What the fuck had happened? He tried to remember. Eventually, some of the earlier events came to him. He'd been speaking with the _Polemarchos_ about the USB when— _Polemarchos_ Sadik?!

Was the older man okay? Adam needed to find out, but when he tried to move his arms agony ripped through him, leaving him breathless, exactly like when he'd been shot by Mark's guards three odd years ago.

He'd been able to drag himself to safety that day despite the pain. He could do that again today. But when he tried to move, he nearly blacked out from the pain.

Everything felt on fire, yet cold, and numb.

Shock. He was in shock. And if he was this deep into shock, then he had moments left.

_Rachel_.

He remembered how her red-brown hair felt between his fingers, how her lips were soft against his, how her breasts felt in his hand, but most importantly, he longed to hear her sweet canary-song of a voice one last time.

_Rachel_.

_Fuck this_ , he growled, disturbed when he felt the sound in his throat but couldn't hear it. He was not going to die on the floor of the _Polemarchos_ 's office. He would overcome this setback, secure the _Polemarchos_ , and find help.

But first, he had to locate the _Polemarchos_.

He forced his hand to move, but it still wouldn't respond to his efforts.

_Okay_ , he thought. If he couldn't touch his elder, then he needed to try verbal communication.

" _Polemarchos_? _Polemarchos_?" he called but didn't hear a response. Even more concerning, he didn't hear his own voice. " _Polemarchos_? _Polemarchos_?" he called, hoping to hear something. Anything.

Nothing.

He would try a visual confirmation of the man's status.

Adam blinked.

He knew his eyes were open, but he saw nothing, not even the blur of blood on lashes.

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't Adam move? See? Hear?

" _Polemarchos_? _Polemarchos_ , sir?" he tried once more but heard nothing. Groaning, he thought, if only his ears would stop ringing, then maybe he could hear the _Polemarchos_ 's response, to know if he was okay. " _Polemarchos_?" he tried again, but the word had barely left his lips when he lost consciousness again.

***

"No," Rachel repeatedly murmured as men and women of the Order ran past her. "No!"

Her knees were locked, and her back spasmed as she held herself rigid at the young woman's news. "I need more time! Adam! Adam!"

"Come on," Zach commanded, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward the cafeteria door, following the other Order members.

As Rachel stumbled along behind him, her stiff muscles slowly unlocked, and eventually, she was able to run after the others without Zach's help.

Finally, they reached the correct hall, and everyone slammed to a halt, bumping and jostling to get a view of what was going on.

Rachel jumped up and down, trying to see passed all the heads in her way.

"Let us through, dammit," Zach growled, grabbing her hand and shoving people aside. " _Hashashin_ Black's promised is here!"

Murmurs greeted his words, and people parted to let them through.

In the inner sanctuary, Rachel spied _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti kneeling next to _Polemarchos_ , his fingers at the prone man's throat. Blood coated Zanetti's fingers. God, there was so much blood. Blood leaked from the _Polemarchos_ 's eye sockets, his mouth, and his nose. Hell, it even looked as if his pores were leaking.

She couldn't find Adam. " _Antiploiarchos_?!" she cried. "Where's Adam?!"

_Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti thumbed behind him.

Craning her neck, Rachel found Adam on the ground. He lay in a pool of blood.

"No," she whispered. "No." _He can't be dead. Can't! Future Zach never said Adam died, only that an attack happened_. Yet future Zach hadn't told her about the attack on the _Polemarchos_ , either, but he had so Adam could be— No! She wouldn't complete that thought.

Rachel ran around _Antiploiarchos_ and dropped to her knees next to an agent who held his fingers to Adam's throat. "Is he dead?" she asked, adding her voice to the din of others requesting variations of the same thing.

The man shook his head. "No. He's alive."

"Oh, thank God!" Rachel exclaimed tears blurred her vision, and snot clogged her nose. She wiped it on her sleeve.

"We need to get him to the infirmary," the agent said. "You," he commanded, pointing to someone behind her, "and you—"

"The _Polemarchos_ is dead!" another agent yelled, catching everyone's attention.

Turning, Rachel found a middle-aged man kneeling in front of _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti. He grabbed _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti's bloodied hand, isolated his ring finger, and crammed a ring onto it. "Long live the _Polemarchos_!" he cried.

"Long live the _Polemarchos_!" a chorus of other voices rose in repetition.

"Long live the _Polemarchos_ ," Rachel muttered with everyone else, unsure what was happening. Her gaze returned to Adam. "He needs the hospital," Rachel said to the agent next to her.

He grunted and turned his attention back to Adam. "Lux," he demanded again. "get a move on it. The _Hashashin_ needs a stretcher."

All activity resumed as _Polemarchos_ Zanetti took over began barking orders. Within moments, Rachel had to hurry out of the way to make room for the men lifting Adam onto a medical gurney. Then they were on the move, carrying Adam out the door and down the hall to the hospital wing with Rachel and Zach hot on their heels.

***

The sensation of movement woke Adam, and he groaned. His skin said he was on a bed and that it was rolling, but his eyes didn't work, and he couldn't hear anything other than the infernal ringing.

The bed hit a bump, and he screamed. "Be careful!" _Siciym Ya_! He hurt. The pain was in every joint, in every orifice, in every fiber of his being. It clouded his thoughts and made him regret his newly acquired awareness, but one thought managed to coalesce out of the fog of pain and ringing in his ears.

Rachel.

He wanted Rachel.

***

"Rachel?" Adam called.

One of the agents looked for her, and when he found her, he waved her forward. She jogged alongside the moving gurney and grasped Adam's hand. "Yes?" she asked as she squeezed.

"He's out again," the agent barked to someone.

"But he spoke," she said. "That has to mean something, right?" It _had_ to!

"No comment," the agent replied as they turned the corner.

"No comment?"

Zach jogged next to her. "He'll be all right, Rach. I know it."

She had to do a double-take to make sure it was her Zach and not ZT, though she supposed, she knew Adam would pull through. Surely, ZT would have said something to her if Adam died. But maybe she needed some extra insurance. "In the future," she said, "if he dies, you'll tell me, right?"

"Rach?"

"You! Tell! Me!"

He nodded. His lips pinched tight—confusion clouding his expression.

Several turns later, the agents pushed Adam's gurney through the infirmary's swinging doors, and several burgundy coated doctors swarmed around Adam's unconscious form.

Rachel backed away and sobbed harder. Zach pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. "It's all right, Rach. Shh."

She watched with burry, tear-streaked, vision as the doctors moved about purposefully. They reminded her of every medical drama she'd ever watched on TV or in the movies. Their commands were barked with calm efficiency while staff followed through on those demanded actions.

"Ms. Munro?" a voice murmured at her side.

"Yes?" she answered, unable to tear her gaze from Adam.

"I need you to come with me."

That got her attention, and she glanced at the speaker. Rachel jerked in surprise to find _Antipolemarchos_ Valis standing next to her.

"He's ready!" someone yelled behind her, but before she could turn and look, _Antipolemarchos_ Valis caught her under the chin with his finger.

She brushed him aside roughly.

"No, Ms. Munro."

"But Adam!?"

"He is under the care of the _Polemarchos_ 's physician."

"I need to—"

_Antipolemarchos_ Valis pulled her around, so her back was to the main room. "Do you ever wonder why emergency rooms send the family to the waiting room for any procedure done in a life or death situation?"

She shook her head.

"Doctors must do many things which look detrimental to a loved one's health." He glanced over her shoulder and grimaced before returning his attention to her. "They cannot afford a distraction from a distraught lover," _Antipolemarchos_ Valis said. "I need you to leave."

"No."

"Yes, Ms. Munro. Adam is already undergoing surgery, and shouldn't see it. The doctors will keep you informed of his status. Mr. Alexander?"

"Yes?" Zach responded; his voice sounded thick.

"Please escort Ms. Munro to my office and keep her there."

"Yes, sir," Zach replied.

"By any means necessary."

"Yes, sir."

"I will join you shortly."

"Yes, sir."

And despite her pleas or token struggles to the contrary, Rachel was picked up by Zach and forcibly removed from the room.

#  Chapter 29

Abhay stepped off the plane and breathed deep. The air flooding the offramp was sweet, cool, and familiar.

_Home_ , he thought, as he joined the other passengers in the queue for customs. He adjusted his tie, confirming it lay straight and snug against his throat. In a little more than three hours, he should be home, his real one, not the one where he'd stashed Mark for safekeeping.

The desire to call and confirm Mark's presence at his decoy flat was strong. Abhay shook his head. It was unnecessary. Where would Mark go? If he even set foot outside that flat, the Order would find him, and if not them, then the Org for sure. The man was well and truly stuck, completely at Abhay's mercy.

Checkmate.

Abhay sighed, and as he waited his turn with the customs agent, he planned his next steps. He still had the FGRT, and he had plenty of Mark's DNA. So, removing the man wouldn't be hard, that left only one question. When should he do it?

_Not right away_ , he decided. Now that he was back, Mark would be expecting some sort of action. No, Abhay would wait a week or two, then collect his necessary sample, and then do the deed. But where? Somewhere public?

Abhay shook his head. The thought of blood didn't bother him, but that wasn't the case for most people, and he didn't want to scare anyone, especially not a child. He didn't like kids much, but he wasn't a cold bastard.

He tapped his finger against his lip and handed over his passport.

No, he'd bring Mark to the river and leave him there. Once sufficiently far enough away, he'd deploy the FGRT, and after Mark was out of the way, Abhay would list the weapon for sale. No reason to keep the evidence, he thought, smirking, and retrieved his passport from the agent. He tucked the document into his suit pocket, hiked his briefcase bag back to his shoulder, and left the airport.

No, he reiterated, no reason to keep the evidence. Not when he could get more than four million pounds for the physical device. He might even be able to get ten-million.

He laughed out loud, and the woman in front of him hopped to the side in a startled jerk.

"Ma'am," he said, as a way of apology. Lifting his arm, he hailed a taxi. When one pulled to a stop, he got in and gave the address of his downtown home. First, he'd go there, shed the infernal suit, and take a nice long shower. The stench of travel clung to him, and he hated it.

An hour later, he arrived at his residence, paid the driver. He made sure to tip the man well, but not too well. Too generous of a tip and a man became memorable, too stingy, and the same result applied. Abhay strove to be "Goldilocks" at every opportunity, never too hot or too cold. Always just right.

Entering his home, he confirmed he was alone, did all the things he'd dreamed of doing, called a new cab, and left for his decoy residence. It was time to check on Mark.

The moment he stepped from the cab, Abhay knew something was wrong. He glanced all around. Nothing seemed out of place, yet the hairs on his arms stood straight.

He looked up.

No _Hashashin_.

Abhay punched in the code to his building and made his way to the flat. Entering, he immediately knew what was wrong. The air smelled flat. "No," he murmured, heading deeper into the flat. He checked the bathroom and the bedroom, finding the bed made and the tub dry. No one had been in the flat for days.

"Damn," he ground out. "That pillock! Where did he go?" It was clear—no blood or smell of decay—that neither the Order nor the Organization had found him, which meant one thing. Mark and his daughter Liz had left of their own volition.

_He is gone into hiding, no doubt_.

Abhay sighed and sat on the lumpy couch. Now he'd have to expend resources he didn't wish to use on finding Mark. Abhay couldn't let him live. Not with what he knew about Abhay.

He could use the FGRT, but according to the schematics, it wouldn't work unless he was within a mile of the man, something he couldn't confirm until he found him.

Abhay sat back and laced his fingers behind his head.

Mark wasn't a creative man, so where did he go?

He pulled his laptop from his bag. He might as well begin his search online. As soon as the PC loaded, Abhay received an alert. Simon's phone had sent him a message.

"No, Fitzgerald," a man said. "Your orders are to remain here. _Lokhagos_ Mori and Dr. Haddad-Davis agree. You are not ready to return to service."

"But sir," Simon said.

"Continue your sessions with—"

The man's voice stopped abruptly when a young woman screamed.

Sound of an abrupt movement was heard—muted due to Abhay's programming, but distinct, nonetheless.

"What's going on? Can you see," Simon muttered, but the words were hard to hear over the cacophony of other voices. Abhay wondered where Simon stood. It sounded as if he'd walked into a panicked crowd, and Abhay wondered if this recording was when he had pressed the FGRT's button. "Jesus," Simon muttered. "Is he dead?" he asked, fear suffused his voice. Abhay smiled. Yes, this was the recording of Adam's demise. Abhay had to hand it to him. Simon was a good actor.

"No, not yet," the man replied, then a second later, "Check Black."

_Wait_? Hadn't the voices been talking about Adam?

Movement. Kneeling to check a pulse, perhaps? Simon answered, "He's alive."

"Good," the other man said. "We didn't lose both. Find _Antiploiarchos_ Zanetti. I will alert the infirmary to the _Hashashin_ Black's condition."

"Yes, sir," Simon ground out.

More movement.

Abhay knew when Simon cleared the other man's hearing, for he muttered, "Mutherfucker. Sadik's dead"— _Sadik_?—"and Black isn't." Simon snorted. It was an angry sound. "That arsehole, Abhay killed the wrong man."

The blood drained from Abhay's head, leaving him feeling faint. The _Polemarchos_ was dead, but the _Hashashin_ wasn't? How in the hell had that happened?

Last night, at the hotel, Abhay had confirmed with Simon that Adam and only Adam had touched the drive. By all intents and purposes, that should have been enough. Of course, if he were honest, and with his line of work he had to be, he'd expected Rachel to have died as well. And maybe she had. She had held the drive for many weeks, contaminating it with her constant touch, but that didn't explain how the _Polemarchos_ had become involved. The FGRT never made mistakes, especially not when supplied with DNA.

He pondered the turn of events for a moment. For the first time in his life, he'd not followed through with delivery on a purchased product.

He had failed.

Abhay swallowed hard, stood, and shuffled over to his desk. He pulled open a drawer.

He had failed.

No prepackaged phone.

He had failed.

Abhay's fingers shook as he dug his mobile out of his pocket and dialed. "I need a ticket to America, please. Earliest departure." He paused as the agent asked him about his destination. "I don't care where I land, only that I leave within the next three hours." He paused again. "New York. Yes, that is fine. Thank you." He finished the sale and hung up. He pulled the SIM from his phone and dropped it to the desk. Pocketing his phone, he scooped up his laptop and shoved it back into his bag. He had less than an hour to transfer his monies from his London bank accounts to new accounts not closely associated with his usual aliases, grab some clothes, and get on his plane. With luck, he'd be in the air before Simon could return to London to search for him.

#  Chapter 30

Rachel sat in the antechamber of _Antipolemarchos_ 's office. Her fingers were stiff and cold, and her eyes were gritty with tears and unseeing.

Adam was hurt. Adam might die.

She snorted in disgust. Not even two weeks post the memorials where she watched lovers and family give homage to their lost, and here she sat, potentially mourning the death of her would-be boyfriend.

When had her life become an Alanis Morissette song?

Rachel didn't even _like_ Alanis Morissette.

She sighed.

A warm hand plucked her hands up from her lap and grasped them tight. "Are you all right? Need anything?" a woman asked. Rachel blinked and turned to the speaker. _Mrs. Voll-Hurston_? When Rachel shook her head, Mrs. Voll-Hurston said, "I remember this stage. The numb disbelief. The gut-wrenching fear. The roiling stomach." She paused and squeezed Rachel's hand. "I think _Hashashin_ Black will pull through, and in the meantime, I'm here... If you need me."

"Adam," Rachel murmured.

Mrs. Voll-Hurston made an affirmative noise in the back of her throat. "I never got a chance to meet Adam while Mitch was alive." She took a deep breath, and Rachel mimicked her. "I knew _of_ him—everyone does—but he'd transferred away from London a week or two before I arrived." Mrs. Voll-Hurston was quiet for a few moments. "You see? Mitch was going to become a _Lokhagos_ , and we could finally be together." Mrs. Voll-Hurston sighed. "I'd waited many years for him and was nearly giddy with anticipation that we could finally marry." Mrs. Voll-Hurston fell silent. When she spoke again, Rachel jerked in surprise. She'd forgotten the woman sat next to her, clutching her hand. "I hope Adam pulls through. If not for the Order's sake, then for yours. Becoming a widow, this young, is so hard."

"Mrs. Voll-Hurston?" Zach asked, drawing Rachel's gaze.

He held out a steaming mug. Rachel couldn't remember him leaving.

"Please call me Susan."

Zach cleared his throat. "Would you like a coffee, Rachel?" he asked as he offered her the second mug.

Rachel took the offered cup and sniffed, surprised to find that she did want coffee. She sipped it. The thick warm brew coated her tongue and slid down her throat. A moment later, her stomach made an ominous gurgle, and Rachel felt a little sick. Maybe the coffee wasn't such a good idea. She set the cup aside.

"If you're not going to drink it," Zach said, "then may I have it?"

Rachel nodded and fixed her gaze on the far fall. Was Adam better? Did they stop the bleeding? Why wouldn't anyone give her an update?

Sometime later, another person arrived, and after they greeted her, they sat out of her line of sight where Rachel promptly forgot about them.

She didn't know how long she sat there stunned, but finally, Rachel noticed Susan and Zach were talking. "My family came from Rome. Vatican defectors." Susan's smile was self-deprecating. "We petitioned the _Polemarchos_ and _Antipolemarchos_ of the time for inclusion into the Order. We received permission to join, as long as we applied ourselves to the small but dedicated fighting force currently residing here in the Fortress. The _Hashashin_ needed bodies. Lots of bodies. My ancestors said 'yes' and—"

"You're a career _Hashashin_?" Rachel interjected, glancing at Susan's forearm to see if she wore a vambrace.

She didn't see one.

Looking up, Rachel caught Susan's head shake. "No."

Rachel studied her for a moment. Susan's answer matched Rachel's impression of her, but the woman's sad expression told of a deeper story. One, Rachel feared, she had missed while staring off into space.

"Rachel—Rach," Zach murmured, grabbing her hand. Susan gave a slight nod, and Rachel turned to Zach. "Susan was excommunicated. She is not a _Hashashin_ , and never can be."

"But..."

"When I defied my parents' orders and did not join the ranks of my fellow _Hashashin_ , they disowned me." Rachel gasped. "Neither myself nor any of my descendants can be a _Hashashin_."

"Not even if they petition again?" Rachel asked.

Susan shook her head. "The _Hashashin_ Soldati family line died with my expulsion." Susan swallowed hard, then continued, "Surprisingly, Mitch was okay with this." Susan shook her head. "He said he didn't care if any of his children were _Hashashin_ or not." Susan huffed a breath. "I think he would have changed his mind if we'd had any, but it's moot now." Susan's lips twitched as if she were trying to lighten the mood. "Regardless, I can still do a lot of good, even if only to fully stock your guest room."

"You're a housekeeper?"

Susan smiled but shook her head. "Not anymore. I'm the head supervisor of the housekeeping team." She frowned. "Or I was. Not sure how that will work with my new transfer."

"Where are you transferring to?" Rachel asked, thinking of Adam and her discussion about staying in Istanbul for his promotion, a promotion that wouldn't happen if he didn't get better. Rachel glanced at the door, her gaze clashed with Isaac's as he came in. Rachel flinched and looked back at Susan.

"I transferred here," Susan answered. "London holds too many painful memories, and I can't go back to Rome, so..."

Rachel found herself nodding. Istanbul was a decent enough place. Besides, Susan seemed interesting and approximately Rachel's age, so maybe they could be friends.

Rachel missed having friends.

"Any news?" Isaac asked.

Before Rachel, Zach, or Susan could reply, another woman answered, her throat thick with tears. "No."

Rachel shifted to see the speaker, surprised to find both Ean _and_ Cass in the room. "I..." Rachel felt like a cad for not noticing their arrival.

Cass wiped her eyes and stood to hug Isaac. " _Antipolemarchos_ has been by a few times, but he had nothing to report."

Isaac grunted. "Have you called Geoff?"

"Yes. Bart ordered them a car. They should be here soon."

Rachel stood, and as she spoke, Cass waved her over. "Cass, I'm so—" Rachel's "sorry" was smothered by Cass's hair and shoulder as she hugged Rachel tight.

"I know."

Isaac sniffed.

"Be nice," Cass chided.

"Why? She's fair-weather only—"

"Isaac!" Cass growled.

Isaac quieted and sat. "I need a drink," he muttered to the floor as he clasped his hands together tightly.

Rachel didn't know what else to say. Opting for silence, she returned to her seat, Susan and Zach took a hand of hers into theirs and held tight.

At some unremarkable point in time later, Geoff and Caleb arrived. The boy's tear-streaked face renewed Rachel's sadness, and her fragile hold on her emotions broke. Susan stood and brought her some tissues. Rachel was mid nose blow when _Antipolemarchos_ walked in. Everyone's gaze turned to him. She hastily wiped her nose.

"News?" Isaac demanded, standing.

_Antipolemarchos_ glanced around the room, appearing lost before he spoke. "Adam is out of surgery. The physicians have put him in a medically induced coma for an unknown amount of time." Rachel hiccupped a cry, and both Zach and Susan wrapped arms around her shoulders. Cass turned to bury her face in Geoff's shoulder, and Isaac straightened. "They are not positive he'll survive this."

Caleb wailed, and Rachel pressed her lips tight together. Her tears made hot streaks of pain as they spilled down her cheeks. "Do they." She hiccupped. "Do they know what happened?" she tried again.

_Antipolemarchos_ shook his head. "The 'wound' for lack of a better word is all-encompassing. Almost as if he suffered a minor earthquake inside his body. Whatever happened to him, destroyed his eardrums. The blood vessels and arteries in his eyes have hemorrhaged, and his internal organs appear—well—shaken. He has a concussion. Lost some intestine and a kidney. They do believe his liver will continue to function, and his lungs are—not fine—but intact enough to work."

"Oh God," Rachel whispered.

"It is believed by a few, that he is alive only because he is a _Hashashin_."

"The room?" everyone except Rachel asked at nearly the same time.

"The room?" Rachel asked after, but clearly for a different reason. She glanced at Zach, and he shook his head.

_Right_. Rachel would ask Zach about it later.

"And the _Polemarchos_?" Rachel asked.

"The former passed at the scene," _Antipolemarchos_ replied.

"I meant," she said with a shuddering voice, "The _Polemarchos_ wasn't a _Hashashin_?"

"Sometimes the _Polemarchos_ is a former _Hashashin_ —Zanetti is—but the position is open to all lineage families," Zach answered before anyone else could. "Shit!" he exclaimed, his gaze snapping to _Antipolemarchos_. "I'm so sorry! I forgot!"

_Forgot_? It took a moment before Rachel understood what he'd meant. No one was to know the acting _Polemarchos_ 's name. That thought perplexed her. Sadik's name had been guarded, but she'd learned about it from Isaac when he'd slipped and blurted it in front of her. How would they keep Zanetti's name secret? He had been known by many. He'd hugged and shook hands with every person who went into the memorials even though he had not attended himself, so how did that work? How did someone who had been known by all become an "unknown" entity?

"No forgiveness needed," _Antipolemarchos_ replied, then addressed the group, "Those without clearance must see Dr. Finny tonight, immediately after you leave this room." He indicated Ean and Caleb. "This includes them."

"Understood, sir," Geoff replied.

"And you," _Antipolemarchos_ said, pointing to Isaac. He then indicated Rachel and Zach. "You two are exempt." Rachel gulped and sniffed. She didn't understand why she had permission know now when Rachel was forbidden before, but she didn't care enough to pursue his reasons as to why.

"His internals appeared shaken?" Isaac asked, returning the group to the original topic.

_Antipolemarchos_ gave a small tilt of his chin. "The physician team has never seen anything like it."

"Can I see him?" Rachel asked.

"No, not yet. The physicians have him stable, but barely. They need more time before they can let family in."

"She's not family," Isaac grumbled under his breath, but no one called him on his rudeness.

"Once they clear you for visitation, there will be no restrictions on your access."

Rachel nodded.

"I—" _Antipolemarchos_ 's voice hitched. He cleared his throat. "If you will excuse me. I have work to do." He turned and left as everyone in the room murmured some form of acceptance.

Several hours later, a doctor came to the _Antipolemarchos_ 's office.

Adam could have visitors.

***

The thick American air stabbed at Abhay's lungs, and he tried not to cough. He hated it here, but his mother—God rest her soul.—had been an exchange student living in Los Angeles when she'd birthed him, and thereby granting him duel citizenship.

Not that he ever wished to live in America.

Abhay sighed and queued behind the other travelers exiting the plane. He would be safe for a while, and if Simon kept Abhay's prototype phone, he'd always know when that assassin would be after him.

He sighed again.

Staying ahead of the Organization would be harder. He'd delivered on his promises, but the council reached far and wide, and they'd know he'd landed here. Hopefully, they wouldn't pursue his reasons as to why.

Heaven help him if they got a bur in their bonnet and decided he needed to come in for questioning.

After customs, Abhay left the airport, hailed a cab, and headed into New York proper. There he would contact a few of his infrequently used contacts, put his name on one of the boards, and start his life anew.

Thank God for human greed and a plethora of cash.

Abhay smiled.

He'd be just fine.

Or at least he'd thought, right up until the fabric bag slammed down over his head.

#  Chapter 31

Days later, Rachel found herself in Adam's hospital room. Truthfully, she rarely left. Zach—the incredible enabler that he was—brought her meals and occasionally forced her to go shower whenever Rachel went to long between grooming periods. She was still by Adam's side when Valis pulled up a chair and sat next to her.

"He's still asleep," she murmured. The doctors had removed his tubes earlier that day in preparation for his return to consciousness. Valis took her hand in his.

After a few moments of silence, she glanced at him. "I know now isn't the appropriate time—"

"But?" she asked, cutting him off.

"I had the luxury of approving Adam and your petition yesterday."

"Great," she said, turning her attention back to Adam. With her free hand, she took his cold one into hers. She knew she didn't sound appreciative, but it was so damn hard to look excited when all she cared about was Adam waking up again.

"Your formal document will be issued later today or tomorrow."

"Okay. Yeah. Sure."

"Rachel?"

"Yeah?" she asked emotionless.

"I need you to go back to deciphering that drive," he said.

"Why?" she asked despondently. "What does it matter? The attack already happened."

"We need to know what it says. We know Mr. Alexander will time travel. We know that he asks for you specifically in that letter. We know that you learn its secrets."

Rachel nodded. The letter had said she deciphered the code. "Okay. Yeah. Sure." Their conversation lapsed. Valis continued to hold one of her hands as she held Adam's in the other.

Eventually, he said, "Maybe it tells you how to cure him. To repair the damages done to his body in the attack."

When she didn't respond, he freed a hand to touch her cheek. His finger sliding under her chin to turn her face toward him. "Ms. Munro?" he called.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and blazed a trail down her cheek. "Yeah?"

"I have something to tell you."

"Yeah."

"It's classified."

She huffed a laugh. "What isn't?"

The _Antipolemarchos_ ignored her joke. "On the twelfth, right before Adam took the drive from you, future Mr. Alexander visited us."

"Yeah?" Rachel asked, her interest picking up.

"He was significantly older—in fact, he looked the same as when I met him the first time many years ago."

"First time?"

"Yes, when Saif, Zahra, and I were young and full of hope," Valis paused, then continued, "I don't know which time jump Mr. Alexander had come from—he still called me _Antipolemarchos_ unlike our shared past when we were contemporaries—but he had a pin at his lapel. A pin I had found curious back in my youth, a pin which had never existed before, but now I know why."

"A pin?"

Valis pointed to his neck, where a small jewel and family crest rested in the form of a lapel pin.

"At the time, there were no 'Black' families in our history—I checked the archives—yet here was a young man—a peer—who wore a family pin with the same crest as the Haddad family, yet declared himself as Black." Valis paused. "Needless to say, it was very perplexing. Saif and I never knew ZT was a time traveler. Truthfully, we never knew his real name—though I know it now—and then Saif was gone, and I was _Antipolemarchos_ , and years of service and duty erased the memory from my mind—until one day—"

"One day?"

Valis nodded. "I received an application on my desk from an Adam A. Haddad requesting a surname change to Black. He was nineteen and nearing his _Hashashin_ graduation." Valis squeezed her fingers before letting go. "Of course, it reminded me of something, and as I thought back to that young man, ZT, and his pin and I knew ZT's pin was Adam's. I didn't know the true connection, how it happened, or why, but deep in my soul, I knew I had to approve Adam's request."

"Why did he do it? Why did he change his last name?"

Valis smiled. "Some answers are better left to the owner to tell."

Rachel nodded and glanced at Adam in the bed. Another tear tracked down her cheek. Would he ever wake up?

"So, you see, Ms. Munro, you must continue your work, you have to solve the mystery. If you don't, Mr. Black may never come back to us, may never become _Antipolemarchos_ —as my history and his future dictate—and consequently, may never adopt ZT as his blooded brother. And if those don't happen..."

Rachel nodded. No one knew—least of all her—what would happen if history—future?—events didn't happen.

A fresh thought occurred to her. She whipped to face Valis. "The drive! Adam took my drive! If I don't have it, then how can I give it to Zach in the future?"

Valis smiled. Shifting in his seat, he retrieved something from his pocket. Opening his fingers, he revealed a plastic bag with the drive in it. He handed it to her. "Keep this on you at all times."

"Yes," she said as she took it from him. "I will."

"And, Ms. Munro," Valis added.

"Um-hmm?"

"Don't voluntarily give it to young Mr. Alexander. Wait for him to ask for it again."

"Why?"

Valis winked. "A little bird told me that this is how the story unfolds."

# Epilogue

Isaac pushed his housekeeping cart down the narrow hallway in the "permanent guest" wing of the Fortress. He glared and cursed at every security camera he passed.

He made sure not to miss a single one.

Arriving at the door he needed, he stopped his cart and knocked. A muffled, "Come in," drifted through the door, and Isaac unlocked it with his card key.

Holding the door open with his rear end, he yanked his trolley inside.

"Hi!" a little blonde girl said as she bounced from one foot to the other at the doorway.

He grunted while wondering what she'd seen on the outside that was bad enough to be stuffed in the "forget-me wing" of the Fortress.

"Don't you talk? My maid at my mom's house always talked. She talked a lot! She told me about all kinds of things." The little girl frowned. "Usually, it was bad things about my dad..." The girl smiled again. "Do you know my dad?"

"No, kid, I don't," Isaac replied, grabbing his duster and attacking the flat surfaces. He couldn't wait to leave.

Isaac sneezed.

He was cleaning. Cleaning! Saif would be so pleased. Even Adam would probably get a good chortle from his plight, assuming Adam regained his health, that is.

For a second, Isaac wondered how Adam was doing. Last Isaac had seen, there had been no change in his brother's chart.

Still asleep.

Barely alive, and patched together with tubes and tape.

Of course, the bitch hadn't left his side.

He had to order her out anytime he wanted to see Adam.

Isaac harrumphed.

Rachel.

If it weren't for her, Adam would have been healthy and whole and ready to tease him at the slightest provocation.

"Well, my dad," the little girl was saying, though Isaac barely listened as he cleaned. "He was almost a council member,"—Isaac paused. _Council member_?—"but then there was an accident. He wounded."—Isaac turned to face her. She nodded vigorously.—"Someone shot him while he was at work. The bullet hit him in the chest." She pointed at her sternum, then frowned. "A bad guy with a knife did it, but then his friend saved him!"

Isaac stared at her, disbelief growing. Men were shot in the chest all the time by "bad men with knives" that didn't mean she was talking about Adam at the lab.

"We'd been living with his friend while daddy healed, but now he's better!" She looked around. "He took us to someone he called an 'order agent' back in London."

Isaac swallowed hard.

"It was nothing like where mommy and nanna work. The Order agent put us in a tiny room for hours and hours," the little girl dragged out the word hours in a blatant exaggeration.

"But then we got on a plane and came here!" She paused and pointed. "You missed a spot. Anyway," she said, resuming her tirade as Isaac once again plied his duster. "We rode in a limo from the airport. We even had to wear a blindfold! We walked forever, too, but then, they let us into this flat. It's perfect," she chirped. "I can eat all the ice cream I want, and while daddy is off talking to the agent, I can watch any show on the telly!"

She leaned in, and stage whispered. "I can even play video games!"

Righting herself, she shrugged.

Changing the subject, she asked, "Are you here for daddy?"

"No."

"Oh," she said, glancing at her shoes then danced on her feet. "You think I can get a piano? I miss my piano," she said.

From around the corner, a man called, "Liz, honey, who are you talking too?" The pitch of the man's voice grew louder as he came toward them. Isaac waited for the newcomer to appear. A moment later, the man arrived and stopped in his tracks, the towel he was using on his hair fell from his laxed fingers, and his eyelids widened to almost comical levels.

"Lizzy!" he yelled. "Get over here!"

In a flash, Isaac twisted, reaching for his knife at his side before remembering he had none. The Order had confiscated it after his sentencing.

Once Liz reached the man's side, he asked, " _Stratigos_ Haddad?"

"Not _Stratigos_ ," Isaac said with a sneer. He let his hand drop. It hung uselessly at his side. "What are you doing here, Mark?"

Mark seemed to debate his answer before finally muttering, "I sought sanctuary."

THE END

Note from the author: Hi, this is M Findley with an author request. If you enjoyed my story, please consider leaving a review with your favorite retailers. And, since all my novels are a _Pay What You Think It's Worth_ , please consider buying me a coffee at Ko-Fi/mfindley.

Thank you!

# Acknowledgments

I would like to thank Misti and Catherine for all their assistance with this book. I couldn't have done it without you.

All of my ideas for this series are my own, but I wanted to acknowledge and pay homage to Ubisoft and their Assassin's Creed game series. Here's to fellow assassins from some great video games!

Finally, I owe thanks to Najla Qamber for their perfect cover design.

If you enjoyed _Betrayal_ , please leave a review.

#  About the Author

Mana likes hopping rocks on the Black River and playing with her imaginary cats. She lives in the US and keeps herself busy with family and friends, all of whom have been supportive while making this dream come true.

#  Contact Me

If you enjoyed _Betrayal_ , please leave a review or buy me a coffee at Ko-Fi/mfindley.

Thank you, and I'd love to hear from you.

Email: mana.findley@gmail.com

Facebook: http://on.fb.me/15IArWp

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/mfindley

#  Other Works

M. Findley also writes as Samantha Nolan or Gabriella Webster.

