ARC 4 | LAST RESORT (17)

LAST RESORT

Part 17

The Aston Martin purred like a lover in climax, gliding over the asphalt a few miles outside of Point Hope, headed toward Kate’s apartment. The windows were down just enough to let the evening air inside. It was almost romantic, the way the breeze carried the scent of fog and pine, tussling a little bit of Henry’s perfect hair that only served to pronounce his good looks.

The road was mostly empty, save for the SUV in front of him, a bloated BMW X5 taking its sweet, sweet time in the left lane. It wasn’t even that slow, just slow enough to insult the vampire. He gave the driver a courtesy by waiting a minute for him to move to the adjacent lane. But the man didn’t move. He was too busy talking on the phone, which was connected to the car’s speakers, and not seeing The Aston Martin behind him at all. And the merge lane for a two-way road was fast approaching.

His name was Suraj Goyal, a big-shot lawyer from Portland on his way to a company retreat somewhere in Bend, Oregon. Point Hope was one of the main thoroughfares between the big cities and Central Oregon. Unfortunately, when driving through the mountains with more untamed lands than towns, the reception would be considerably slower.

Impatient, Henry tapped the turn signal, slid into the right lane, and passed without hesitation just before the merge.

Suraj was already annoyed when the call dropped due to the poor cell reception, and coupled with being overtaken suddenly and an ego bruised after seeing a sports car with a revving engine doing it, well, people tended to do the stupidest shit at what they perceived was a provocation: a classic case of dick-measuring contest.

A moment later, Suraj surged up and over the solid yellow-orange line, and then cut Henry off. Brake lights flared. The SUV jerked into and infront of the vampire’s lane and slammed the brakes again.

Break Check.

Henry smiled, amused.

Henry waited a beat, then lightly pressed the accelerator, grazing the man’s back bumper with a carefully calculated crunch just enough to rattle him, but not enough to deploy the airbags. Suraj couldn’t believe what just happened. He opened his window, made frantic waving motions with his hands, telling Henry to pull over. They pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. Suraj leapt out, khakis creased, shoes the color of dried blood. Mid-to-late thirties. Stocky. Balding. Face red with hyped anger.

“You hit my car, asshole!” Suraj screamed. “Do you know what car this is? You’re gonna pay for that!”

Henry opened his door and stepped out like a suave ghost. Crisp suit. Barely wind-tousled hair. Calm enough to unnerve. Of course he knew how much that cost. Suraj didn’t ignore the Aston Martin Henry drove; he smelled a big paycheck coming.

“Are you injured?” Henry asked.

The man scoffed. “You’re gonna be. I’m a lawyer. I have friends in court. The way I see it, this is an attempted murder!”

“It was really an accident. You keep breaking, and—”

“I don’t want to hear more excuses! Do you know how much this car costs?”

Henry’s smile widened, hollow and sharp. “I do,” he answered without a beat. “Can I Zelle or Venmo you seventy grand? That will already pay for the damages and more. It doesn’t look like your car is that badly damaged. It’s not totaled. Just a dent.”

That only made Suraj seethe. He pointed at his temple and then massaged the tail of his spine. Suraj kept ranting, but Henry had already tuned it out. “I am injured! See? It will cost more than that! I’m going to sue you for emotional distress and medical emergency. I have heart problems and I think you hitting me only made it fucking worse. You’ll be hearing from my firm. What’s your name again? What’s your insurance? Let me get your phone number.” Suraj fumbled to grab his phone from his pocket.

“Believe me, sir, it was a complete accident! This is not a necessary escalation.”

“Oh! I’m going to make it necessary, jackass! I have a dash cam to prove it!”

“You do?”

“Yeah! Anything you say right now will be admissible in court.”

Henry tilted his head. “Thank you. That’s good to know. I’m already running late and it makes things quicker.”

“What makes things quicker—”

Henry moved suddenly, a blur of tailored motion, and struck once just below the man’s ear. A neat, surgical blow. Suraj dropped like a felled deer, twitching. Henry looked around but the silent woods flanking the dark road was the only witness to the assault. Henry stepped over Suraj’s body and strode toward the BMW and hopped inside, grabbed the memory card from the dash cam, and broke it with his fist. He threw the bits across the shallow ditch and into the woods. He also took Suraj’s phone and snapped it into two.

Henry crouched beside the lawyer, checked for breath—still alive, good—and rolled him expertly onto his back. He ruffled through the man’s pockets and pulled out his wallet and his driver’s license.

“Suraj Goyal, is it? You’re not from Linn County. So far away from home. Does anyone even know you’re here? The valley and the mountains are such a big place its easy for a city-folk like you to go missing. Do you know that?”

Suraj groaned, but remained prone and unconscious.

“Hm. You remind me of my boss. Ex-boss. Even when I was alive, I hated cunts like you. Always pumping their chest on how tough they are. You’ll make good kibble though.”

From the Aston Martin’s trunk, he retrieved a nylon strap and duct tape. It took all of fifty seconds to bind and gag the lawyer. Another twenty to hoist him into the back and shut the trunk with a click.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the number labeled as THE PUPPIES.

Luke Sawyer answered the phone.

“What is it this time?” Luke asked, annoyed.

“Luke. My favorite werewolf. There’s a black X5 on the road. Oracle’s gonna ping the location for you. Run the plates. Bring it in to the graveyard.”

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing much. I got some jerky. Want a piece?”

“Another delver?”

“Uh-huh. He has heart problems, he says. I reckon we can fit one more.”

Luke sighed. “You know me. The more game, the better. Hey, aren’t you picking up your other human?”

“Getting there.”

“What about the game? They in the X5?”

“No. I’m bringing him as a snack on the road.”

“Well, just make sure you don’t kill them outside of the border, okay?”

“I know the rules, Wolfie. Bye-bye.”

Henry hung up.

The road was his again. Empty, quiet, the shadows from the forest lengthening like spilled ink. Henry adjusted the collar of his coat, glanced at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, and fixed a bit of his hair.

The radio played something old and jazzy as he turned back toward town.

He was going to be late picking up Kate.

But only by ten minutes.

I could tell that Kate was nervous.

Kate had applied her makeup twice. Once to look natural, and again to look naturally expensive. That’s what Henry liked, she assumed—he hadn’t said so outright, but he’d once complimented a woman’s “subtle elegance” in passing, and it had stuck in Kate’s brain like a fishhook. That was three dates ago. Now she wore a dress she could barely afford, lip gloss and lipstick and face mists with French names that she wasn’t sure how to pronounce, and an almost two hundred dollar hairstyle from the expensive salon in the mall. Half of her paycheck was gone because of this.

Maybe Sheila was right. Maybe fairytales were just that—Fairytale

s. Fancy make-believe. Maybe Henry wasn’t the Prince Charming coming to sweep her off this fucking town. Maybe she shouldn’t go broke just to be part of his world. Maybe…

Maybe…

Maybe…

Kate sighed deeply. Her sister was getting into her head.

Her hands were cold from clutching her phone. She kept opening and closing the text thread with Sheila. Was she sweating? No, she’d hate to do her makeup all over again. She couldn’t afford to be nervous and get cold feet now. Sheila and the others were now depending on her.

The screen read: We're still going through with it, right?

She never sent the message. She was tempted, but she knew she was just fishing for reassurance. Of course they were going through with it. Kevin was sure as shit wasn’t going to suddenly say “You know what, my bad. This is all a big mistake. Jail is bad. I am a good person now. I don’t want to be a criminal anymore. Being a criminal is stupid.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. They hadn’t said anything to her for hours. Just the one text in the morning telling her to be ready and charm the rich fucker. Her thumbs hovered over the button, again and again.

Send…?

No.

Don’t send it, idiot.

The apartment was chilly. Cold and quiet. She forgot to turn the thermostat up when she got back from work, but at least the cold apartment wasn’t making her sweat too much. However, the tick in her ceiling fan, the soft hum of the fridge, and the way the walls creaked from a rogue gust outside was grating at her ears. No music, no TV. Those would just annoy her even more. Just the low, scuttling hum of her guilt, circling her like a rat in a cage. She paced in front of the window, heels clicking. Henry was supposed to arrive at 6:45 PM. He’d said, “I’ll come pick you up on the dot,” with that warm, casual grin of his. Very handsome. Very Hallmark. Very A-list Movie Star.

She hated how much she liked him.

Her phone buzzed.

Henry: I’m outside.

Her stomach dropped. She grabbed her clutch and took one last look in the mirror. The face looking back at her wasn’t hers, but it was someone who’d already made a deal she couldn’t take back.

With another deep breath, she walked out the door.

Henry was in the driver’s seat of a vintage Aston Martin. Of course he was. Of course he wore navy. Of course he kissed her hand when she slid into the leather interior, smooth as melted chocolate, and told her she looked stunning.

He pulled away from the curb, one hand relaxed on the wheel, the other hand resting gently on her thigh.

“How was your day?” he asked, voice like butter.

She forced a smile. “Good. Just...long. Sorry.”

“Oh, you have nothing to be sorry about. It should be me who’s sorry. I apologize that I’m late.”

“Only for ten minutes.” Kate regretted that. It made her look like she had been looking at the clock every thirty seconds (which she was).

“I hope you still have the energy for tonight.”

“My shift was long, but I think I’ll find the energy. I’m not some wimp.” She laughed, partly to mask her nervousness.

“Well, in that case, hopefully Brighton will cure all that,” he said, eyes on the road. “We’ll have fun.”

She looked at the clock, which read 6:59 PM. “The concert starts at 7:30.”

“We’ll make it. Don’t worry. Brighton’s just a brisk shot away.”

Kate didn’t answer. She opened her phone, typed a single sentence, and hit send before Henry could see.

To Sheila: We’re on the road.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Then she put the phone face-down in her lap and tried not to think about the mansion on the cliffs, the vault, and what it would cost if Henry found out.

In the trunk, Suraj remained unconscious.

I peeled my vision out of Henry’s car and, with the help of some of Oracle’s nanites spread all over Point Hope, soared above the town like an eagle, moving further north toward the mountains.

Toward my dungeon.

Toward home.

SCENARIO 4

07:41 PM

12 Hours Until Dawn

9 Delvers Waiting…

The fog thickened as they neared the shuttered gate. The gravel crackled under tires, then boots. Kevin killed the headlights, and they all stepped out into the hush of cold air and the dark’s silence. The Last Resort stood ahead, looming through the mist like a mausoleum, tall and pale under the moonlight. Lights off. Curtains drawn.

Empty.

Waiting.

It was a full moon tonight.

The Dungeon Screen allowed me to designate the primary delvers for tonight’s scenario and I placed their names on the list. Unfortunately, anyone who accidentally stumbled upon the “feast” would automatically get added once the scenario was at full swing after the Selection Chamber.

For now, there were seven delvers:

Kevin Yates.

Xavier Yates.

Sheila Lewis.

Lope Sanchez.

Ray Klein.

Nina Travers.

Daryl Gallagher.

I couldn’t add Suraj Goyal since the System still considered him as out-of-bounds, but Henry wanted to feed him to Wendy and complete the process of becoming a vampire spawn.

If Kate Lewis also ended up at the manor after the concert, the System would include her as a delver, too.

They gathered by the rear of Daryl’s delivery truck. Nina set her Kali Linux laptop down on the tailgate and opened it, blue light cutting through the dark like a scalpel. Her fingers moved with ordered precision as the others waited patiently for the magic to happen.

“Give me ten minutes,” Nina said.

In the meantime, Kevin lit a cigarette. Lope adjusted the crowbar over his shoulder, spitting into the dirt. Ray popped a piece of gum in his mouth and chewed loud to distract himself. Sheila stood a little off to the side, arms crossed, waiting. Surprisingly, she dressed conservatively tonight with a dark gray hoodie jacket, pants, and boots. Though, she wore a bubblegum pink t-shirt hidden underneath the hoodie with the words: DADDY’S QUEEN written in the front. Meanwhile, Daryl’s still behind the wheel, eyes shut, catching a power nap before the heist.

But Xavier hadn’t moved from his spot inside the truck. Still gripping tightly at his own jacket sleeves, knuckles pale.

Kevin noticed and approached him. “You getting out, or are you waiting for me to roll out the red carpet?”

Xavier stepped down slowly with tensed shoulders. He didn’t make eye contact. “I don’t know if we should do this, uncle,” he muttered. “It feels wrong.”

“Relax, Xav. We’ll be out of here in less than an hour. Maybe two depending on how cooperative his assistant is in letting us open that vault. But after all of that is done, we’re set for life.”

“What about the guards?”

“No guards, remember? We’ve scouted the grounds for three weeks since we started working here. Have you noticed any security around the manor?”

Xavier hesitated to answer. “Um…no?”

“Exactly. He doesn’t have guards. Plus, I’ve got some ace up my sleeve. Henry’s staff were just the hired help during the day. But at night, they go home. No one’s in there but the secretary.”

“And Roy. You said he lives there now.”

“Yes, also Roy. But we won’t hurt him either, okay?”

“But…” Xavier stammered. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Kevin let out a sharp breath through his nose and stepped in close, face inches from his nephew. “You’re not gonna fuck this up, Xav. You’re not gonna fuck this up for everyone. We both know this is your only ticket out of here. You don’t even have to see my face again if that’s what you wish once you get whatever shit is in that vault. And trust me, you don’t want to miss out on that or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. You and Vivian can live anywhere else and not be judged by those motherfuckers back in town. You hearing me, boy?”

“I’m serious, Kevin. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“We are not gonna hurt anybody, okay? Jesus Christ, kid. You make me sound like I’m some psycho.” Kevin lowered his voice. “Listen to me. No one’s getting caught. You want to stay here in this fucking depressing town forever? Always waiting for someone else to fix your life? Spoiler alert, no one is coming, kid. You want to let your sister be some checkout girl at the grocery store with that brain of hers while you waste the only shot we’ve got? Man the fuck up.”

Xavier flinched at that. He looked away, lips pressed tight. “She knows I’m going up the mountain tonight,” he said quietly. “She didn’t say it out loud, but... she knows. Or at least suspects it. The way she hugged me this morning. She told me to quit working for you a few days ago. She told me twice not go to the mountains yesterday. Said she had a bad feeling, but she’d been talking to hat creepy psychic down the road from ours. I thought she meant the cabin, but…you didn’t tell her anything about this, right?”

“Duh, you think I’m stupid? You know your sister, Xav. She won’t go for it. That’s why I talked to you because I know I can trust you. I can trust you, right? Right?”

Xavier paused. “Y—yeah. Yeah. I got you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Xavier looked up at the manor again. He swallowed. “And if something goes wrong?”

Kevin blew a trail of smoke from his cigarette. “Then we fix it. We handle it. Like professionals.” He turned to Nina. “How’s it going, Nina?”

“Getting there. Don’t rush me, Kev. I hate it when you rush me,” Nina said haughtily.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Sorry, madame. I’ll leave you to your zen zone then.”

“Thanks.”

Sheila came closer to Kevin and looped her arm around his. “The woods and the fog’s creeping me the F out, baby. And its super cold.”

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll be inside in no time. Heard from Kate yet?”

“They’re at the concert hall right now. She’s very nervous I’m afraid she might blow it.”

Kevin shrugged. “She’s the same woman who kept pushing Jared away. She can handle the pressure. Your sister is one tough lady.”

“I know, I know. Hey, do you think Henry keeps expensive stuff inside his room? Like jewelry and other stuff?”

“Probably. You want to find out?”

Sheila beamed. “I think that’s the first room I’m gonna go for.”

“Okay. One at a time, babe. The vault is first priority.”

“I’m almost done,” Nina announced.

Nina was very good at what she do that even Oracle was impressed.

Two weeks before the heist, Nina had done recon on the manor. Lope snuck her inside his work van and parked her right outside the front porch for days while the boys worked at the garden. She placed a directional antenna and a Pineapple Wi-Fi auditing tool on the van so that she could sniff out the local traffic in the building. She identified the manor’s main and hidden service set identifiers, all the MAC addresses of the devices it was connected to, and router manufacturers of all the security devices. For fun, Oracle threw her a bone to chew on by giving the manor a robust setup of enterprise-grade firewall for her to crack.

Nina took that as a welcomed challenge, and she cracked through it like a child showered with candy.

By the end of the week, Nina had compiled a database of common vulnerabilities: a couple of unpatched firmware, default credentials on unused ports, and weak admin configurations. Oracle also created a remote access portal for managing the cameras for her to find. It fooled Nina into thinking it was likely used by Henry’s lazy independent security contractors at an external IP address, which was a spoofed channel that Oracle made just for this occasion. From there, she was able to confirm which ports were open and identified a weak link at an admin port that included a login page to the already spoofed security website. From there, she built a script that ran the combination of passwords against the portal and matched it within a few hours.

She was in, but to not raise any suspicions by how easy it was for her, Oracle still placed a few hurdles for her to go over.

The smart locks around the manor were Bluetooth-enabled with a backup relay. She couldn’t crack those remotely without tripping fail-safes, so she needed physical proximity by at least ten feet. Obviously, she couldn’t get out of the van and do that. So, she created portable devices as small as an Apple AirTag with a script that could emulate keystrokes, clone a device, and mimicked an “authorized user” packet within a ten-foot radius. During lunches, Kevin, Lope, Xavier, and Ray had placed half a dozen of these tags near the garage, by the front door, and any entry points that required electronic locks, including the ground-floor windows.

Tonight, at the back of Daryl’s truck, Nina connected to the manor’s network through the compromised admin portal and launched a local script to flood the camera servers, making them loop the same sixty-four-minute footage to avoid suspicion if someone reviewed it in real-time, which she highly doubted unless Henry had hired remote security detail to watch the feeds. Ever since the pandemic, “remote security guards” have become popular. She made the feeds look like they were still running, but the lag was slow. She didn’t shut the cameras off entirely; that would raise unnecessary alarms.

Not that Oracle cared. He still maintained control anyway.

“We good?” Kevin asked after five minutes of waiting.

Nina didn’t look up. “I’ve deactivated all the security. Feeds are on a sixty-four-minute loop. We can do whatever we want within that time, but after that, they’ll know someone was here if one person noticed.”If they do their jobs right, Nina thought. Based on what she’d seen behind the manor’s security system, she was confident no one would find out until the next morning.

But no one else was watching except for Oracle and me.

And the Administrators.

“You sure?” Kevin asked.

She finally looked up. “Kevin, if I wanted to walk in there right now and set the place on fire and have enough time to get off this area, I can. I’ll even have enough time to go to bed.”

“Thanks, Nina. I knew I can always count on you.”

“As long as I get paid, I don’t care.”

“Is it safe to make a move now?” Lope asked.

Kevin nodded. “And wake Daryl up, will you? Ray, jam the network.”

Ray opened the duffel bag and and pulled out a nondescript black case—the jammer—matte and boxy with six antennas like spider legs, which Lope got from a cousin in Eugene, who got it from someone in San Diego. He flipped the toggle and watched the lights blink red, then green. The jammer started to hum a low, throatless growl, casting a dead zone across the manor grounds in a three-mile radius.

“It’s on,” Ray said.

“Good. Let’s move in,” Kevin said. “Nina, open the gates.”

“Open Sesame,” Nina said, hitting the TAB button on her laptop.

The manor gates opened. Daryl drove the truck forward and parked in front of the manor. Kevin passed around the CB radios and the ski masks for everyone to put on before they move toward the front door. Only Nina and Sheila stayed inside the truck for now until the coast was clear.

“We’re by the door, Nina. Open it,” Lope said.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” Nina typed another command on her laptop and the front door clicked open.

They walked inside.

The lemon-polished air hit them first, then the visual of Roy standing by the staircase—vest crisp, posture like an exclamation point—on his way toward the sitting room. On his hand was a tray of a half-empty wine glass. His mouth opened in a perfect, shocked O-shape, pretending to be surprised by their sudden appearance.

Kevin’s forearm was already across his throat, slamming him back into the banister hard enough to rattle the wood. The tray tipped over, crashed onto the floor, broke the wine glass, and spilled red wine all over the marble floor. Roy gagged, heels skidding.

“Sorry about this,” Kevin whispered.

Xavier yanked Roy’s wrists behind him while Kevin drove a knee into his gut. The sound Roy made was wet and low. Then, Kevin’s elbow came down sharp against the side of Roy’s head, and the butler sagged, his face crumpling like paper. They lowered him onto the floor, his cheek pressed to the cold marble.

Jessica’s heels announced her before they saw her. She appeared in the doorway from the sitting room, backlit by the warm spill of the overhead lights. “Roy? What was that noise? Are you okay—?”

Her gaze swept the foyer and locked onto Roy’s crumpled body, his face slack against the floor, one sleeve twisted up his arm like laundry caught in a wringer.

“Roy—oh my God! Who are you?!” Her voice cracked in all the right places. She didn’t glance at Kevin or Xavier right away; she let her eyes skate over them like she was too shocked to see the rest of the room. Then she saw the masks. The shock sharpened into wide-eyed, movie-perfect terror. She even backed up a step, palms raised, breath quickening audibly in the cavernous foyer.

“She should be an actress,” I said to Oracle.

Oracle nodded. “If she wasn’t working here…”

“Don’t hurt me! Please!” It was the kind of line that would’ve sounded cheap from anyone else, but Jessica sold it with trembling hands and a shine of panic-sweat along her temple.

She bolted before Kevin could say a word, her heels snapping against the tile, making for the dining hall’s double doors. She screamed for help, a harrowing sound that rattled the manor.

“She’s running!” Ray barked.

“Get her!” Kevin snapped, and Lope and Daryl peeled off in pursuit.

“Get away! Get away!” Jessica screamed.

I leaned back with a smile. “Jamie Lee Curtis,” I said.

Oracle turned to me, confused.

“That scream. Jamie Lee Curtis. Halloween, 1978.” I was impressed that she mimicked her scream perfectly. “Someone’s been doing their homework.”

The chase carried into the dining hall, shadows leaping from the crystal chandelier as the three of them tore past the long table, the white tablecloth breathing with each footfall. Daryl lunged, fingers grazing her arm, but she spun, ripping one stiletto off her foot and swinging it like a blade. The heel caught him across the cheek with a dull, wet thwack, splitting skin.

Daryl swore, staggered back. “You bitch!”

“Don’t come any closer!”

Lope came in from the side, faster, heavier. His fist shot out and caught her square in the jaw, the sound flat and final, like a slamming door. Jessica’s body went slack mid-step, the shoe tumbling from her fingers. She crumpled onto the rug, cheek pressed into the pattern of roses and vines, breath shallow but steady.

“You okay, man?” Lope asked.

“Just fucking grab her,” Daryl hissed, rubbing his red face. For good measure, he gave the woman another kick on the stomach.

“Jesus, she’s out!” Lope said. “We need her, remember?”

“Is my face okay?”

Lope looked at it. “It’s gonna bruise, but yeah, it looks fine.”

“It looks fine? What the fuck does that even mean, man?”

“It’s not like bad, okay? Your face is still ugly.”

“Fuck you. She almost took out my eye with that thing.”

“Would you quit whining? Let’s bring her back.”

“Drag her to Kevin yourself.”

“Dude, no names! Are you dumb? Keep your mouth shut!”

“She’s out anyway. I need to find a mirror.” Daryl went off, searching for a bathroom.

Lope hooked his arms under her shoulders and dragged her back toward the foyer, her head lolling like a marionette’s.

Kevin’s eyes widened. “Fuck me! Is she dead? What did you guys do to her?”

Lope shook his head and dropped Jessica on the floor next to Roy. “Will you relax? We just knocked her out.”

Kevin let out a sigh. “Just be fucking careful next time. Let’s tie Roy up in the sitting room over there.”

“And then we can start grabbing stuff?” Ray asked excitedly.

“Then we can grab stuff.”

They hauled Roy’s limp body into the sitting room. Xavier knelt, looping rope around Roy’s wrists and ankles, cinching until the knots looked surgical. They bound the butler to the chair and put a tape around his mouth.

Kevin nodded toward Lope. “Let’s go upstairs. The rest of you, make sure no one else is here.”

They climbed to the second floor. Lope carried Jessica over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her hair swung with each step, brushing against the banister spindles. At the top, the library loomed: floor-to-ceiling shelves, rich with leather-bound spines and dust motes drifting in the dim light. Kevin went straight to the east wall where the vault was just behind the shelf. He could smell how close he was to having a life that he wanted…that he imagined.

Isn’t that what they love to say? Work smart and hard to make dreams a reality, Kevin thought. I’m working hard right now.

Lope dumped Jessica into one of the tufted reading chairs. Her head lolled, a faint smear of blood at the corner of her lip.

Kevin crouched in front of her and lightly patted her face to wake her up. “Wakey-wakey.”

Her eyelids fluttered, pupils struggling to focus. “What—”

“Good! You’re finally awake. We need you to open the vault, miss.”

A beat. “What vault?”

“Don’t start with me,” he said, voice low but sharp. “You know exactly what and how. I’ve heard from a good source that you do. And I’m not in the mood to get creative or have the patience.”

Lope cracked his knuckles in the background, filling the silence.

“I’m not going to tell you anything. I don’t know about a vault,” Jessica said bravely. The faintest bruise bloomed along her jaw, and her lipstick had worn to a red half-smear. “You are going to prison for this! You don’t know who you are stealing from!”

“We know exactly who is. We know who you are. Trouble for you is that he’s far away from saving you. All you have is me, sweetheart. Me and my friends. It’s better if you cooperate and you won’t get hurt.”

“I don’t know anything about a vault.”

“You’re really sticking to that tune?”

Jessica raised her chin up. “I. Don’t. Know. Anything. About. A. Vault.”

Kevin stood over her, pacing just enough to make his movement unpredictable. Lope tightened his grip, leaning in so close his breath warmed the side of her face. “We’re not gonna ask twice, miss.”

“No,” Jessica said with finality, eyes glaring at Kevin. “Ask all the questions you want. You won’t get it from me.”

“If you insist.” Kevin let out a deep, disappointed sigh. “I guess we are doing it the hard way then.”