"How long before they get to Montana?" Susan inquired about twenty minutes later, now seated on the armchair beside the sofa where Old Mr. Thorne sat with his wife.
In the next chair was Aiden, typing furiously on his phone. Athena hoped he was communicating with either Shawn or Eric; she hadn’t heard from them since the last call. Neither had she heard from Ewan and her kids.
Her heart sank into her stomach as a dark thought flashed through her mind—what if her enemies’ plans included them? What if they had been hijacked on the road?
She shook her head hard. No. The Thornes’ security was tight, professional. She didn’t think her enemies would be that reckless, that dense. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ NovᴇlFire(.)nᴇt
Still, they had obviously reached out to Lucas and his family. Lucas had no real protection though, not the way the Thornes did. Not really...
But how could she have known the criminals had marked them? That the sponsors of the Grey Virus—the ones behind the evil—would choose to use Lucas and Kendra as bait?
A hissed curse broke from her lips as her hand stamped against her thigh. She was still in a swimsuit, her skin sticky with chlorine from earlier.
"Athena..." Florence’s voice cut into her spiraling thoughts.
She met her grandmother’s gaze, calm when it should not have been calm, steady when worry should have darkened it.
"We will get through this," Florence said, voice carrying quiet conviction. "We always have."
"What if they’re dead before Eric gets to them?"
Florence inhaled softly, slow and measured. "They won’t be. Let’s all stay positive. Besides, what would the idiots gain if they kill them? They would want them alive, so they can make a trade."
Athena released a short, hollow laugh. "They are crazy, these people. They might kill Kendra just for the fun of it. Do you know how many have died because of this virus already?"
"Athena." Old Mr. Thorne’s voice cut in, calm but firm, the kind of tone that carried command. A voice calling her to order, to quiet.
"Go upstairs and change. Ewan will be here soon with the children."
Her lips parted to argue, to say clothes were the least of her concerns, but the sternness in her grandfather’s eyes silenced her. She sighed, pushed herself to her feet, and moved toward the hallway.
Susan followed close behind.
"You were so wrapped in worry you didn’t answer my question. Should I call them?" she whispered, as if afraid her words would trigger Athena.
She followed Athena into the bedroom and shut the door. From the doorway she watched as her mother’s good friend walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the first thing her eyes landed on.
"Might take a while," Athena finally replied, tossing the swimsuit aside, cleaning her body with a flimsy cloth, and pulling on a pair of khaki-colored shorts. "Depends on if our old boss lets them use one of the agency’s private jets."
A black polo came next, sliding over her head. It hung long, nearly overshadowing the shorts.
"You’re right," Susan said slowly. "But what do you think they’re really after?"
Athena shrugged, fingers ruffling distractedly through her damp hair. "The same thing they’ve always been after. My research. But I can’t give it up."
Susan frowned, lips pressing tight. Didn’t human lives matter more than research?
"If I let them have it, more people will die..." Athena bit her lip, a beat of silence hanging between them. "We’ll just have to steal Lucas and Kendra back without them knowing. There’s no alternative."
Her gaze snapped toward Susan. "Have you briefed your boss and the agents, in case we need their help?"
Susan nodded. "They’re on standby as we speak. But knowing the thoroughness of your ex-CIA buddies, I doubt we’ll even need my team. Still, our private plane is ready, just in case we have to move fast."
Athena exhaled loudly, smoothing nonexistent creases from her shirt before heading back toward the sitting room.
"Did they know?" Susan asked as they walked into the hallway.
There was no specification, but Athena knew what she meant. The sad, curious tone was about her ex-CIA colleagues.
"No. Not at first, at least. They found out later." Athena didn’t elaborate further—that they had hidden it from her too. She saw no reason to stir tension among her people now.
Back in the sitting room, she found Aiden deep in conversation with Old Mr. Thorne, discussing the possibility of going to Montana. When they noticed her, both men turned at once. Their frowns landed on her outfit at the same time.
"You might need to change again, sweetheart." Florence spoke for them, her tone soft.
"Why?" Athena frowned in confusion.
"Because we might be going to Montana. Eric just sent a text. The warehouse is empty."
Athena’s breath seized. She shut her eyes, face contorting in pain, then exhaled harshly as she dropped into an armchair.
Her hand fumbled for her phone. She dialed Eric’s number, needing to hear details, not just texts.
"Eric, what’s happening? Aiden just told me the warehouse is empty."
"Yes," Eric confirmed, his voice hurried. She pictured him moving, maybe running. Then she heard it—sharp cracks of gunfire in the background.
"What’s going on, Eric?!" Her voice rose into a shriek, planting fear into everyone in the room.
"Some men were left behind at the warehouse," he said, breathing hard. "To... I don’t know... guard it?"
"Don’t kill them all. Keep one for questioning. We need to know where they’ve taken Lucas and Kendra."
"Of course, Athena. But—" His voice dropped, carrying weight. "We found blood. A lot of it. In the room where the tracker led us. The watch and necklace with the trackers were removed, littered on the ground like mockery. They suspected us. These men are just scapegoats. I doubt they’ll know where Lucas and Kendra were taken, but we’ll still question them."
A heavy pause. Athena’s stomach twisted with dread.
"But I suggest you don’t hold out much hope for the survival of the duo," Eric said finally. "As I said... the blood we saw in the holding room was too much."