Chapter 80

**Emilia POV**

Time has passed with nothing to mark its movement.
In an underground cell enclosed by rock walls. The darkness is constant with nothing but fluorescent light to splinter its gloom. It must have been days since I spoke with Stonewall. By now the Americans won’t have a choice but to inform my superiors of my status. Even if they label me a rogue asset, they have no grounds to detain me on foreign soil.
It’s not like I killed one of them all.
I am mentally equipped with this sightless and soundless suffering. However, I’m sure with a hyperactive brain like Calum’s, his mind is stewing in madness; a challenge of mental fortitude. Being in such a state of stagnation, hour after hour, day after day must be tormenting. Psychological warfare can be just as damaging as the physical. In fact, that’s how we break many of our prisoners, not by hurting them or torturing them but unraveling them from the inside.
A distant clang makes my head whip up.
My eyes narrow at the line of bars until a structured silhouette emerges into view. Floodlights in the cell burst on, an explosion of light that disorients me for several hot seconds. With bright and pulsing intensity—a rustle of movement, the brilliance soon dissipates. The Deputy Director of the CIA is in front of me, two more guards positioned outside of the open cell.
“Deputy,” I say dryly. “An honor. I would stand but I lost all feelings in my legs a day or two ago.”
“Apologies for the delay, Commander Acheson.” His voice has the professionalism of a politician but it doesn’t undercut the commanding lure. “We have been conferring with the powerheads of British Intelligence. And we have come to a unanimous decision on this threat to international security.”
“Well don’t keep me in suspense, sir. What was the verdict?”
A moment ensues like he’s contemplating telling me. Or perhaps trying to figure out how to shield the hidden price behind the bargain.
“I think we can all agree that the true threats are the powerful criminal syndicates that are at play.” His gaze holds my own with an indecipherable expression. His eyes betray nothing, no twitch of his features or tightened lines on his blemished face. No indications that he’s lying or being deceitful in any way. “I only care about civilian casualties if this shadow war comes into the light or more classified operations are exposed. This, Hadassah Moor, has more insider information than any other trained undercover operative. Ever. She has insight into the Blood and Bone cartel and the Yakuza clans. Not only can we use her—we need her.”
I let out a relieved laugh, short and scathing. “I’m glad someone finally sees reason.”
“Calum Taylor is our way of finding her.” His hands rise to adjust his custom cufflinks thoughtfully. “We interviewed their boss at Trans-Media Global. And they gave us valuable acumen on their relationship and how they operate. A few years back, there was an incident concerning Markov Sidorov. We didn’t see the usefulness in this information. Until we learnt that Calum Tayor, and their boss, James had an arrangement. They instituted a protocol if Hadassah ever went missing again. First, he confessed that he had planted a tracker on her.”
I use the back of the wall to slide up slowly, my knees quavering from the rush of needles running through my legs. This is something Calum didn’t mention in our time together which only bellows his distrust. Or he didn’t mention it because it wasn’t much help for him.
“Unfortunately, he didn’t trust James enough to give him the tracker code. But it does explain how he found her initially and how they were found together at Torin Moon’s penthouse. As you know.”
I brush away the pang of offense.
After all I risked for them both. He never trusted me.
“But there were layers to their security protocol that required a two-way connection. James couldn’t expound on the procedure but it demands Haddassah to have access to the internet to somehow send an alert for him to ping her location so he can find her. We have people that can piggyback on that trace—the moment she sends it. If she’s even able. Calum Taylor has already proved that he has an uncanny ability to find her.”
An alarm flicks on in my mind.
I nod slowly, my mind grasping comprehension. “A bait and tail,” I say to name the strategy. “Does that mean we’re both provisionally free or just him?”
His forehead knots. “Neither of you are targets or threats. You are both free to go under supervision. Agent Stonewall will be your handler and you will be relocated to a secure location. We need you in the field because you’re a friendly face that Calum Taylor may come to trust.”
He steps aside and extends an extravagant hand to the open cell.
“These men will take you to him,” he informs with an earnest expression. “Stonewall is waiting topside for your relocation.”
I nod stiffly. “Thank you, sir.”
The two guards lead me down the rock-encrusted passage reinforced with stainless steel. We come out and we enter a different network until we reach another queue of cells. One of them unclips their keycard, then with a clean swipe, a light blinking green and the mechanical hard release sounds an open entry. He slides the gate aside and I look down at the shadowy lump on the floor. I hurry inside and I kneel at his huddled form before I lay a delicate on his shoulder—he snaps awake and I grab at him to try to keep him still. His shudder of fear sends a quivering through us both, making me struggle to restrain him.
“Hey,” I say firmly and my hands hold his face, cupping his cheeks. “It’s me. It’s just me.”
He frees a tremulous breath and his forehead drops on my shoulder, shivering ever-so-slightly. I rub soothing circles on his face, then I carefully help him rise to his feet until his face hovers above mine.
“I’m getting us out of here.”
He nods shakily and follows me out.
Throughout the subterrestrial levels, Calum remains uncharacteristically quiet, his silence haunting as we make our way topside. I sneak frequent glances at him, his features seem sharper than before, his cheeks more sunken. It tells me that we’ve been down here a lot longer than I deduced. They don’t do anything down here that can make one build a timeline or monitor a routine. The guards do alternate arbitrary shifts. I've familiarized myself with a few common faces but it’s no use since they passed my cell at random intervals—no way to tell at what time. Food would’ve been a good indicator but we’re not fed breakfast, lunch and dinner. Just one or two meals a day at random times. And it seems like Calum was receiving less than that.
We ride the mirror-less elevator to the surface level like ascending the throat of a mountain, it takes excruciatingly long. When the doors open once more, a dimly lit tunnel stretches out beyond us. The guard behind Calum nudges him forward with the barrel of his rifle.
We travel down, making our way to the far-flung end of the concrete channel.
“Where are we going?” he whispers.
“To a safe place.”
“I’ve heard that before,” he says with an acidic tone.