Chapter Forty-Four

Luke regained consciousness slowly. He lay facedown on the hard ground, his cheek tacky with drying blood. His whole body ached from the force of the blast, but he couldn’t identify any specific problem areas.

Intense heat bathed his right side. He forced his lids open, the lashes sticking together. The buildings were engulfed in flames. At least Callum had succeeded—the poison was destroyed.

Closer, he could see the mangled remains of a helicopter still burning, but over the crackle of flames, the roar of others grew louder. They were close, the drone of the engines changing as they hovered, ready to land. He peered upward as they backed off slightly, no doubt looking for a safe spot, and he knew he had to move.

Rolling onto his side, he saw Callum.

His friend lay a few feet away, sprawled on his back, his eyes closed. Luke stumbled to his feet and lurched across, collapsing to his knees beside him. Pressing his hand to the warm skin of Callum’s throat, he felt the faint, unsteady pulse against his fingertips.

A long shard of steel stuck out from his chest, and a pool of dark blood surrounded his friend. When Luke drew his knife and cut away the material around the wound his breath hitched, and he sat back on his heels and stared. The entry was to the right of Callum’s heart, but directly over his lungs. He daren’t pull the metal free.

“Luke?” Callum’s lashes fluttered open. His eyes slowly focused, and he turned his head to the side to stare at the burning building. “Did it work?”

“Yes, it worked. The chemicals are destroyed. Now lie still, while I work out what to do.”

Callum laughed softly, but the sound held no humor. “You’re wasting your time, and we both know it. You need to get away from here.”

“Not yet.”

“We had to do it.”

“I know.” And he did. He just wished it hadn’t ended like this.

“But I hope they haven’t killed her. I hope you find her.” Callum swallowed, and a grimace of pain passed across his face. “Maybe I didn’t want you to have a normal life, but I was wrong. Leah would have wanted you to be happy.”

He fell silent.

Luke clasped his hand. He sat for long minutes, his mind numb. Callum had been a part of his life for so long—the only family he’d had left after Leah.

Across the lawns, the first of the surviving helicopters had landed, and its cargo of men was fanning outward. But he couldn’t seem to care. He stayed unmoving, Callum’s hand held tightly in his, until he knew his friend was gone.

Rage seeped into his mind, overriding the mind-numbing sense of shock. The Conclave had taken somebody else from him.

The men had spread out from the helicopter, and in the flickering light from the fire, he saw them clearly. Staggering to his feet, he cast one last look at Callum and turned and ran for cover, crouching close to the ground. He heard no commotion to signal he’d been spotted, and he made it to the relative shelter of the main house.

Was Jenna alive? Or had that evil bitch carried out her threat and killed her when the laboratory exploded? He didn’t think she could be dead, because he was sure he would feel something. He had to keep believing. The alternative wasn’t acceptable, and until he knew for certain, he would presume she was alive.

As he made his way around the house and back through the woods to where the vehicle was parked, Talbot stepped out of the shadows of the trees.

“Where’s Callum?”

“Dead.”

“Shit.”

Talbot had served with Callum in the British army for many years. The men had been friends, and Luke knew this must hit him hard, but the time for grieving would be later, after he had Jenna back. He needed a bargaining tool. He needed a plan.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Talbot hesitated.

“Look,” Luke said roughly, “if we want any chance of getting the fuckers who killed Callum, we need to get away from here now.” He put his hand on the other man’s arm. “It’s what Callum would have wanted.”

Talbot glanced back the way he had come, nodding. They climbed into the dark vehicle and drove away, leaving their friend behind.

Was it all worth it?

Then he remembered the African village and imagined the devastation the same poison would have caused in the densely populated city of London.

He slumped on the seat, his elbows resting on his thighs, his head drooping from exhaustion, and for the first time in his life, he prayed. Prayed that Jenna was still alive.