The men look at each other, and I can’t help but smile. “Sounds absurd? Because it is. The facility is not a psychiatric center. They don’t provide drugs to inmates. Only vitamins and supplements. Warden Light wanted to make it even harder for Xavier and keep up the appearances you crafted for him when Lorenzo framed him for the murder of his best friend. He couldn’t use drugs, so he used something far simpler. Sugar pills. For a person with a mitral valve prolapse, high dosages of sugar cause anxiety, heart palpitations, dizziness, clouded thoughts, and even panic attacks. Salt cuts down the effect very quickly.”
My words meet only silence. A long, uncomfortable silence. A silence that lasts too long.
And then, slowly, a single pair of hands clapping. Jennings’ clap rings out in the church. He lets out a low, throaty chuckle.
“Listen to you, Agent Griffin,” Jennings says. “This is why you are adored. Admired. You are brilliant. We could have truly made you into something incredible. But—” he holds his arms open like there's nothing he can do— “it is our tradition to only accept men.”
“Well, that's not completely true, is it?” I ask. “Or, at least, temporarily. Isn't that right, Eleanor?”
I glance toward one of the hooded figures. The smell of the perfume she wore at the bank is unmistakable. It’s faint now, the kind of smell that comes from clinging to skin and hair after being washed repeatedly. After a few seconds, the hood slides back, revealing the still heavily bandaged face beneath.
“Hello, Mason,” I say. His eyebrows lift, and I shake my head. “Don't look so surprised. Did you honestly think I wasn't going to figure it out? You really should be more careful when you're creating your lies. You forgot to sync up all of the different timelines. If it makes you feel any better, I knew about it before I found the murder you committed. Witnesses said they saw a woman running away from the scene. They weren't able to catch up with her, but they were convinced she either committed the murder or saw it happen. Only the DNA left at the scene was male. And, of course, someone else was promptly framed. Just like always.”
“You don't know what you're saying,” Mason says.
“Sure, I do. Your sponsor was Nikolai Greene. How did that work, exactly? Did he only choose who you murdered, or how you did it? It seems to me as if you outdid yourself. After all, you handled two murders. Or was it three? Do you count murdering the old version of yourself? I suppose you should. It's only appropriate, considering you also married yourself. Didn't he, Judge? The entire situation is a pretty disgusting way to commit insurance fraud and avoid being looked at for old charges, isn't it? Don't mess with your face too much. You don't want to ruin all that work that was done. How long until you can take off the bandages? Who do you look like under there? Whose face did you steal?”
“Be quiet,” Mason says.
“That's why you're moving. You want to be settled into a new place in time to take off those bandages and show off the new Mason. What's going to happen then? Is Eleanor going to die? You've already gotten to play the grieving widow. Are you going to grieve for her, too? Judge, tell me, how difficult was it to produce fake documentation for a person who doesn't exist? It must have been frustrating for both of you to have to drag this out so long. But Lydia didn’t post the missing report the way she was supposed to. You made sure she had all the information, but she just didn’t put it up. You had to wait until that was in place so the body would be identified and reported. Then you could move and get on with your life with life insurance and the support of The Order.”
“I've had enough of her,” Jennings says, his eyes cold and his voice teetering on anger. “Get rid of her now. We'll figure out what to do with her later.”
“Enough!” a stern voice echoes loudly from behind me.
Everyone turns to it. I even turn my head, but I can’t see anything past the men behind me still holding a gun to me.
But I see who it is soon enough. Dean strides confidently through the group of men until he stands in front of Jennings.
“What do you think you're doing?” the judge asks.
“It's time for you to let her go,” he demands.
The judge lets out a short, mirthless laugh. “And why would I do that?”
“She is already owed to someone. She's a debt, and you can't destroy her,” Dean says. “I've been sent to reclaim her. You are not to hurt her.”
“Who sent you?” Jennings asks.
“I was sent by the Dragon. Emma was promised to him as a favor done many years ago. It's time for repayment. You will release her immediately,” he says.
An immediate cacophony of whispers sets off. From what little I can see of the hooded faces, I can see fear and nervousness in their eyes. Everyone looks up at Jennings, who is staring daggers into Dean. Dean meets his gaze with an icy stare of his own.
My stomach turns, and it’s all I can take not to heave right there.
“Why should I trust you?”
Dean doesn’t flinch. “Do you want me to tell the Dragon what you did to her?”
That sends a shiver down Jennings’ spine. He takes a long moment, looking over to Light, and then finally nods to the men holding me.
The man behind me finally removes the muzzle of his gun from my back, unties me, and pulls me to my feet. I want to run, but I can't. Dean takes a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and latches them to my wrists. Holding onto the chain between the cuffs and my shoulder, he leads me out of the
