Chapter 52

**Hadassah POV**

It's strange.

Rewriting one of the five books with multifaceted illustrations, indistinct symbols and complex numeral systems, is like having a few pieces of the puzzle without knowing what the full picture is supposed to look like. As comprehensible as a blank-faced Rubik's cube.

I have all this information in my mind. And none if makes sense.

I'm at eighty percent completion. It's...debatable if I'm able to go faster.

Once upon a time, it was this incomplete journal that was the sole reason as to why Gaza is dead and I'm not. If either of them had gotten the real book the first time. I'd be dead. But my situation has evolved since then and I guess... both brothers have more than one reason to let me live as long as I have.

The door opens. Heavy footsteps stride into the room with sure-footed purpose.

His hand settles on the head of the office armchair.

"For the tenth time, I'm almost done."

I look up at the broad mirror. Orian's reflection glowers at me with hellish intensity.

I dart out of the chair. And I fling myself to the other side of the room, spinning around only to see Torin, dressed in a torso-tight Tom Ford polo shirt that outlines every bulging muscle, stark white with black athletic-fit jeans and white sneakers. Holding onto a display device in his hand.

His eyes scan the interior. "... Are you okay?"

I shrug it off. "Yeah, it's nothing. Just got a fright."

His mocha-brown eyes drown in dubiousness. "To the point that you teleported across the room? With what I've see about your flight or fight response. It's never to run. So, what really frightened you?"

I shrug again—more dramatically. "I told you. It was nothing," I say, unable to expel the irritation from my voice. I return to my seat. "If you don't mind." I pick up the pen and resume. "Unless you need something, I have a lot of work to do."

"More like an update."

He leans forward, encroaching on my rear entirely. His fresh scent embodies a medley of aromas citrus-sweet but pungent with a masculine sandalwood and cedar smell. His wrought arms extend on either side of me to plant his one hand on the edge of the table. The other lays down the touchscreen in front of me, but it's not an iPad. It's far more advanced, alike to the interactive table he has back at the villa.

"An interface data screen."

Our gaze meets in the mirror. A smirk tugs his lips to one side.

"Brains and brawn. How lethal."

I look down. "Not really. Calum's the genius. I just... listened."

He inputs a code, and it unlocks the device. He pulls up a restricted file. A record on a Paul Jenkins.

I scroll through, giving it a thorough peruse. "Should I know him or something?"

"He's a high-value federal asset with twenty years of service to the agency."

I find his job title. "A cryptographer."

His eyes point to the journal. "We need one to decrypt this book in order to find the next one. And hopefully between the two there's actionable intel that will appease Tommaso, but won't be detrimental to me, by giving him a bigger advantage."

My eyes zigzag through his file, deducing his iron-clad moral fortitudefrom his unwavering dedication to his job.

"Are you going to threaten or kidnap him like you did with me?"

He gives me a look, clenching his jaw. "Neither. I'm going to buy him."

I toss him a jaded look. "You really believe you can throw your money at everything? This man is a red-blooded patriot who loans his expertise to private military companies. Believe me, he's well-endowed. He doesn't need your blood money."

"I never said I'd bribe him with money. It also means a favour. Everyone has a price, an overall objective they aspire to, and not all of it is monetary gain. It's just most times."

My eyes skim over his honouree distinctions. He seems like a man of principle.

"You don't think I could enlist his aid without issuing threats or using violent methods?"

I lift a stiff shoulder. "Nah. Not when he realises what and to whom you're connected to."

"Then why don't we have a little bet?" He slants closer, so he's head is aligned with mine. His eyes glittering with infuriating indulgence. "If I fail to take this 'patriotic' individual and turn him to my side without coercion. I'll let you—not only call—but video call your mother who's secured in her new safe house. Angry, worried and confused, all she knows is that safety protocols were initiated once you were 'comprised' during your assignment."

*Son a bitch.* "And if you succeed, what do you want?"

"A kiss."

I should break that craggy jaw. "Are you serious?"

"With your consent, of course. I'm not an animal like someone we know."

The mere mention corrodes my composure.

"It's your choice." Dark delight weaves a smile, curling his lips into an irrepressible grin like he's somewhat proud by the audacity of his own ploy. "How badly do you want to see your mama?"

*A whole bastard.* "When are we going to have a sit-down with this cryptographer?"

He makes a thoughtful, disagreeing sound. "There is no we. I'm meeting him alone, under an alias, pretending to be a private contractor, looking to loan him out. You should recognize this tactic." He shoots me a wink. "Once he realizes who I really am, it won't matter because I'll already have him in my pocket."

Distrust string my brows together. "If I can't go with you, how will I know if you're not lying? You could put a gun to his head without me even knowing."

He places a solemn hand on his heart like he's about to make a pledge. "I am a man of my word."

"Then I'd like to add to my list."

He moans pensively. "You're really think those lips are worth that much?"

"You'll tell me what the Syndikus is."

His irksome smirk vanishes. "It's does not concern you."

I mimic his pensive moan. "I think it does."

He eyes me down curiously, contemplating, before he gives a decisive nod. "Screen-time with your mother or knowledge about Syndikus." An ultimatum. "Oh, but seeing how ruthlessly ambitious you can be..."

"You think I'd choose ambition over my family?"

He sneers at me, jeeringly. "You already did."

I mute the twinge in my chest.

"But because I'm in a good mood, I'll agree to your demand."

I refocus on the journal. He plucks the pen from my hand.

"Take a break."

I gape at him mockingly. "You're the one that has me working on this doggedly."

"Which is why I'm relieving you from your duty. For now."

"And do what, more target practicing, sparring?"

"I was thinking more like a private sunset dinner, along the River Spree, sightseeing the capital at our divine leisure."

*Well... some fresh air wouldn't hurt.* "I am kind of hungry. Okay, I'll go change—"

"As if you need to." He takes the chair and swivels it around so I'm facing him. A heated, long-yearning gleam sparks in his eyes and my insides flutter in response as he renders the gap between us null. Our faces a tilt away, his hands latch onto the arms of the chair. "And I've meaning to say. For a girl like you." His eyes hunt for my necklace, but I'm not wearing it. "A god-fearing little saint. You sure know how to move your body like a sinner."