Chapter 7 - The Enemy Calls for HelpAdrian Voss had spent seven years trying to control my life.
I stared at my father.
“Say that again.”
He looked sick.
“Rachel is not your biological sister.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“Evelyn—”
“Who is she?”
Rebecca kept both hands on the wheel.
Blackwood looked away.
My father finally answered.
“Rachel is Adrian Voss’s daughter.”
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because my mind refused to accept the sentence.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“My mother gave birth to her.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re saying—”
“Your mother wasn’t involved with Voss.”
I stopped.
“Then how?”
My father took a long breath.
“Rachel’s biological mother was an intelligence officer named Claire Voss.”
“Adrian’s wife?”
“Sister.”
The boat seemed suddenly too small.
“Claire was killed when Rachel was six weeks old.”
“By Monarch?”
“Yes.”
“Why did Mom raise her?”
“Because Claire asked us to.”
My memories shifted violently.
Rachel’s darker hair.
Our different eyes.
How my mother always said family was made by the people who stayed.
Things I had never questioned now felt like hidden doors.
“Does Rachel know?”
“No.”
I stood.
“She’s thirty-two years old.”
“I know.”
“She has a son.”
“I know.”
“And nobody thought she deserved to know who her father was?”
“Voss was dangerous.”
“He still is.”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe lying to her for three decades wasn’t protection.”
My father lowered his eyes.
I looked at Rebecca.
“And you knew?”
“For two years.”
I laughed again.
“Wonderful.”
We reached a private marina north of Oceanside.
Mercer was waiting.
So were federal agents.
The moment we docked, my father was taken into protective custody.
I didn’t stop them.
Mercer approached.
“We located your sister.”
“Where?”
“Safe house near Miramar.”
“I’m seeing her.”
“We need to debrief you.”
“No.”
“Commander—”
“She was photographed by people connected to Voss, and I just learned Voss is her biological father. I’m seeing her.”
He studied me.
“Fine.”
An armored SUV took us south.
Rachel was inside a small government house surrounded by armed security.
When I entered, she ran toward me.
“What the hell is happening?”
She hugged me.
I held her too tightly.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.”
She stepped back.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
“Evelyn, soldiers grabbed me from a hospital parking lot, took my phone, and brought Noah here. Nobody will tell me anything.”
My nephew Noah sat at a table drawing helicopters.
Eleven years old.
Too observant for his own good.
He looked up.
“Aunt Evie, are bad guys after us?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Fantastic. Thanks, government.”
I crouched beside him.
“Some people are being extra careful.”
“That means yes.”
“Pretty much.”
He nodded.
“Cool.”
Rachel glared.
“Not cool.”
I almost smiled.
Then she saw my face.
“What?”
“We need to talk privately.”
We stepped into the kitchen.
I closed the door.
There was no gentle way.
So I told her.
Our father was alive.
She slapped me.
Hard.
For half a second, I simply stood there.
Apparently it was becoming a theme.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“You watched me cry at his grave every birthday.”
“I thought he was dead too.”
She covered her mouth.
Then I told her the rest.
About Voss.
About Claire.
About her adoption.
Rachel sat down.
For a long time, she said nothing.
Then:
“Was Mom my mother?”
“Yes.”
“No. Was she my mother?”
I understood.
“Yes. In every way that matters.”
Rachel nodded.
Tears ran silently down her face.
“And this Adrian Voss…”
“Biologically, he’s your father.”
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
That frightened her most.
“Why now?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Noah screamed.
We ran into the living room.
One of the security agents lay on the floor.
Unconscious.
The back door stood open.
Noah pointed outside.
“A man took Mr. Carson’s gun.”
I drew mine.
“Stay here.”
I ran through the door.
A figure moved near the fence.
I tackled him.
We hit the grass.
He twisted.
I saw his face.
Jonathan Rook.
The missing Lazarus operator.
“Get off me!”
“You broke into a safe house.”
“To save you.”
I pressed my pistol against his shoulder.
“Bad opening argument.”
He looked toward the house.
“You have six minutes before this place explodes.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Voss tracked Rachel through the hospital transfer.”
“How?”
“Her son’s insulin monitor.”
Noah had Type 1 diabetes.
Connected medical device.
Of course.
I dragged Rook inside.
“Evacuate!”
Security scrambled.
Rachel grabbed Noah.
We moved toward armored vehicles.
Rook pointed toward a storm drain.
“Not the cars!”
“Why?”
“Secondary devices.”
We ran on foot.
Four minutes later, the house exploded.
The blast shattered windows across the block.
Noah screamed.
Rachel pulled him down.
I stared at Rook.
“You knew.”
“I’ve been following Voss for eleven years.”
“Then why did you disappear?”
“Because Daniel Cross ordered my death.”
I looked toward my father’s absent seat as though he might somehow be there.
Rook laughed bitterly.
“Your father isn’t the man you think he is.”
“I’ve figured that out.”
“No. You haven’t.”
He reached inside his shirt.
Security aimed weapons.
Rook slowly removed another black coin.
Then snapped it in half.
Inside was a micro-storage wafer.
He handed it to me.
“This contains Nightglass transmission logs from the night your team was ambushed.”
My pulse increased.
“Why give it to me?”
“Because I’m dying.”
Only then did I notice the blood soaking his side.
He lifted his jacket.
Gunshot wound.
Old enough to have been bleeding for hours.
Rachel, a nurse, rushed forward.
“We need pressure.”
Rook caught my wrist.
“No hospital.”
“You need surgery.”
“I need two minutes.”
Rachel pushed gauze into the wound.
Rook grimaced.
“Your father authorized the mission.”
“I know.”
“He also authorized the extraction.”
“What extraction?”
Rook’s eyes locked on mine.
“Not yours.”
Rebecca had gone still.
I turned toward her.
Rook continued.
“There was an aircraft five miles away during the ambush.”
“For who?”
“For the cargo.”
“What cargo?”
“Monarch’s original ledger.”
I stared.
“You said the key is inside me.”
“The key, yes.”
He coughed blood.
“The ledger itself was removed before your team was abandoned.”
“By whom?”
Rook looked at Rebecca.
“Ask her.”
I turned.
Rebecca whispered, “Evelyn…”
“Again?”
“I was ordered—”
“Stop saying you were ordered.”
Rook grabbed my sleeve.
“She left with the ledger.”
My eyes filled with disbelief.
“You told me you came back for me.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“After I delivered it.”
I stepped away.
Every truth came with another lie inside it.
Rook laughed weakly.
“That’s Nightglass.”
Then he pressed the broken coin into my palm.
“Trust nobody who survived Kandahar.”
His eyes moved toward me.
“Including yourself.”
His body went slack.
Rachel checked his pulse.
Her expression told me before she spoke.
“He’s gone.”
Sirens screamed in the distance.
I stood over the body of another officially dead man.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Adrian Voss.
“Hello, Evelyn.”
I said nothing.
He continued.
“I assume Rachel knows now.”
I looked at my sister.
“What do you want?”
“My daughter.”
“She isn’t yours.”
A pause.
Then Voss laughed softly.
“That’s exactly what Daniel said thirty-two years ago.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“You come near her, I kill you.”
“I believe you.”
“Then stay away.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
His voice changed.
For the first time, fear entered it.
“Because Monarch is no longer under my control.”
I said nothing.
May you like
Voss continued.
“And if we don’t work together, your sister will be dead before sunrise.”
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