Chapter 71
**Calum POV**
“You managing?”
I nod stiffly, taking it slow and steady as we trudge down the hallway.
“At least there’s one benefit to this?” I utter in half-uttered sentences.
“And that is?”
“The way you’re holding me.”
She says nothing and navigates us to the fourth door. She fishes for the keys, unlocks and pushes it open. I hobble inside first, I stumble and she stabilizes me with a quick and firm grip on my hips. This is officially the most emasculating moment. Upon entering, I step into a spacious lounge bathed in natural light, thanks to the large floor-to-ceiling windows that span the entire front wall.
At the head of the room, strategically placed to maximize the inspiring view, is a sleek and minimalist workstation placed in front of the window. The desk is a contemporary piece with clean lines, crafted from rich walnut wood, and accompanied by a comfortable, ergonomic chair upholstered in soft gray fabric.
At the glacial pace of an elderly snail, I eventually reach the open lounge area. I sink carefully on a plush sectional sofa in a deep navy hue, adorned with vibrant throw pillows and a soft, textured throw blanket. Emilia disappears, and I can hear her rummaging through things in another room. By the washed dishes occupying the rack and the open files on her desk. She’s been staying here.
“Is this place… secure?”
“It’s unlisted safe house, it should be,” she replies from another room.
She returns with pills and a glass of water and I don’t even look. I take it with a swig of water.
“If the pain persists, I can give you something stronger. But those pills should knock you right out.” She takes the glass out of my hand and puts it down on the ground. She draws back to settle on the acacia wooden table interspaced between the cream furniture. “So, while you’re still conscious, I want to hear from you. What happened?”
“I’ll dumb it down for you. Orian Moon came—many people dead, then Santos came—even more people dead. Before any one of them could go looking for me, I split. At that point, Hadassah was long gone.”
“How did you survive this long without money? The journey, the phones, the laptop?”
My cheeks crinkle and I look away momentarily. “I wish to exercise my right of silence.”
“Mr Taylor—”
“We are so beyond formalities, Commander Acheson,” I say pointedly. “You don’t need to know how I got the money to move around. The only thing you and I both need to worry about is finding Hadassah. But I’m not sure I can trust whatever agency you’re working for. I’m sure they either want to imprison her for treason or maybe that’s too much paperwork, and her death is the better option.”
Emilia’s lips seal close and her gaze strays from my own.
“That’s just great,” I say with an acidic laugh. “They think she’s complicit.”
“It’s more complex than that.”
“Humor me.”
She flings me a fatally sharp look. “You are the reason. You compromised classified data. Intel that could cause a global conflict and make your country guilty of war profiteering and other crimes that transgress international agreements.” She leans back with unadulterated apathy, crossing one leg over the other. “If it’s one thing my superiors know how to do is cover their ass—they learn from the best. The Americans. So yes, they would prefer you dead. But if we can serve them with a bigger mark to drag attention from you. And the true perpetrator. They won’t see you as an enemy or a barrier but an ally.”
“How can I be a friend if they treat me like a foe?”
“A problem for another day. You need to heal, and fast. War is upon us, Mr Taylor.” She stands up and extends an inviting hand to me. “There’s a guest bedroom.”
“As much as I would love to come to bed, darling.” I shake my head regrettably. “I can’t take another step. I’ll just crash on the couch for now.”
She pivots like she’s about to leave, then she pauses and looks back down at me.
“You were face to face with him… what was that like?”
I shrug dramatically with my hand still on my stomach. “What kind of answer are you looking for? The cliche, it was like staring at the face of death itself. Oh, wait no,” I say with a quirk of my brows, a pulse of hollow humor. “He is the devil himself.”
Her face shifts, irritation intertwisting with her features. “I get that humor is your coping mechanism. But even with the gravity of the situation you find yourself in. Even you must shed away this comical facade and face reality.”
A flare of fury. “I have.”
“Really? I think you’re covering your truth with jokes and jests to hide your upheaval. Because you forget that I saw you. I saw the fear in your eyes when—”
“Of course, I’m afraid!” I say, a flare that becomes a fire. “My best friend, a woman I consider to be closer than a sister. Disregard that my soul is a patchwork of all that she is and that has made me all that I am. She has been taken again and only God knows what has been and is being done to her. She is the strongest human being you will ever meet. But she is still that… human with finite limits. There is only so much the mortal mind and body can take. And after all she has suffered, I’m terrified, not only to know if she’s dead. But even if she’s alive, what will be left of her?”
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