Chapter 4 - The Brother Who Died
The man in the snow looked enough like Adrian to make Claire’s stomach twist.
Same dark eyes. Same sharp jaw. Same habit of standing perfectly still when everyone else was moving.
But Adrian had once shown Claire a single childhood photograph of his older brother, Lucas.
Lucas had supposedly died in a car accident at nineteen.
Adrian’s gun remained raised.
“You’re dead.”
Lucas smiled without humor. “That story worked better than I expected.”
Cross swore under his breath.
Claire looked at him. “You knew?”
“No.”
“Everybody keeps saying that tonight.”
Men surrounded the wrecked SUV.
Lucas raised one hand.
“Don’t shoot. The child stays alive.”
Adrian’s eyes sharpened. “And Claire?”
Lucas glanced toward her.
“That depends on you.”
Adrian moved closer to Claire.
“If you’re here for Noah, you’re not getting him.”
Lucas sighed. “Still heroic. Still exhausting.”
“What do you want?”
“The archive.”
“I destroyed it.”
“No, you tried to.”
Lucas took a step closer.
“Lantern’s inheritance lock copied itself into your bloodline when you authenticated the vault eight months ago. That’s why Mercer Group has been watching hospitals in three states.”
Claire tightened her hold on Noah. “Mercer?”
Lucas looked at her.
“Not your family name. The company.”
Adrian whispered, “Mercer Biometric Systems.”
Claire stared at him. “You never thought my maiden name being Mercer was worth mentioning?”
“I didn’t know there was a connection.”
Lucas laughed. “There’s always a connection.”
Cross suddenly raised his pistol.
Two shots cracked.
The streetlight above Lucas shattered.
Darkness swallowed the road.
“Run!” Cross yelled.
Adrian grabbed Claire’s hand.
They sprinted through knee-deep snow toward the churchyard while gunfire erupted behind them.
Claire nearly slipped twice.
Noah screamed against her chest.
Adrian pulled her behind a stone wall.
“Can you keep moving?”
“I gave birth three weeks ago.”
His face tightened. “Claire—”
“I’m moving.”
They reached St. Matthew’s through a side door.
Cross stumbled in moments later, blood darkening his sleeve.
“Not mine,” he said when Claire looked at it.
Adrian locked the door and hurried toward the altar.
He pushed aside a wooden kneeler and opened a hidden trapdoor.
Claire stared at him.
“You attended Christmas Mass here with me for four years.”
“I know.”
“And every year you sat there knowing there was a bunker under the altar?”
“Yes.”
“I really married a nightmare.”
He almost smiled.
Then the church bells began ringing.
Not normally.
Three short rings.
Two long.
Three short.
Adrian froze.
Cross whispered, “Lantern recall code.”
Adrian looked toward the dark nave.
“That signal hasn’t been used since Prague.”
A woman’s voice echoed from the balcony above them.
“No, Adrian.”
May you like
A figure stepped into view.
“It hasn’t been used since I ordered your death.”
