Played: An Altered Saga Novella (3 page)

After the funeral, I’d started seeing a therapist regularly. It was recommended I talk to someone about the trauma in my past, to get it all out. I didn’t know it then, but my therapist happened to be on the Branch payroll. She was screening her clients looking for someone for a new program. They’d wanted an orphan who was so dead inside that killing her repeatedly wouldn’t affect her overall state of mind.

My brother had been my best friend. Losing him had felt like losing all of myself. I’d definitely been a fit for what the Branch was looking for.

Sometimes I wondered if I still had Lukas, if I’d be who I was today, if any of this would have happened. My brother had kept me grounded, and he’d always looked out for me. He never would have let me get involved with the Branch. Of course, if he’d been alive, I wouldn’t have been what the Branch needed in the first place.

I tried to imagine what he’d tell me to do now. He’d probably tell me to work with the Coats, because they were the good guys. He’d tell me that the cure would bring me closer to the girl I used to be, and that that was more important than revenge.

I guess my dead brother was now my conscience.

At the very least, I decided, I could hear what the Coats had to say, and what else they had to offer me. The Rook hadn’t given me a time to show up at the warehouse, so I left the hotel just after six
AM
. It’d give me enough time to grab a proper cup of coffee and to stake out the warehouse for a while before going in.

The corner of 7th and Hart Street was in the business district, three miles from my current location. A lot of the surrounding buildings had been converted either to boutique hotels, or apartment buildings. The place belonging to the Coats was still under construction, and metal scaffolding covered most of the front.

Across the street was the Revived Arts Hotel, so I paid for a room that afforded me a clear view of the warehouse, both its roof and its front door. Since I was technically paying with a stolen credit card, I didn’t mind the extra expense, considering I’d only use the place for a few hours. It’d be worth it in the long run.

In my room, I pulled a cushy gray leather chair up to the windows, made sure all the lights were off, and grabbed my trusty binoculars. I kicked my feet up and began the stakeout, shoveling crackers in my mouth as I scanned the warehouse.

For the first hour, there was zero movement outside the building, or within. I’d thought perhaps I’d see the Rook holding up a welcome sign somewhere.

What kind of code name was that anyway? I wondered. And was he the chess piece, the bird, or the swindler? I hoped he was the chess piece. I was pretty good at playing games.

Traffic picked up over the next hour as people headed out for work.

By 11:00
AM
my crackers were gone, and the Coke I’d bought from a vending machine down the hall was lukewarm.

“Screw it,” I muttered, and tossed the binoculars in my bag.

Outside the hotel, I slid big, dark sunglasses over my eyes, let my long hair fall forward over my face, and crossed the street. Music played from the Mexican restaurant just around the corner. Traffic was comprised mostly of yellow taxicabs and small sports cars.

I entered the warehouse using a side door that was partially obstructed by scaffolding and loose plastic sheeting. The plastic gusted in the breeze.

The door creaked when I opened it, and inwardly I winced. I’d expected to come in on a stairwell, or maybe some faraway hallway, so I could sneak in unannounced, but the ground floor of the warehouse was one wide-open space, with only support columns to break it up. The lighting was murky, and green-cast from the plastic covering the windows. The whole place had an underwater feel.

My footsteps echoed as I walked. It was the only sound in the entire place.

I was beginning to wonder if this had been some kind of joke when a figure silently stepped away from a support column twenty yards to my left. The man was at least ten years older than me, and two hundred pounds heavier. He had the stocky, bald-headed look of a bouncer. Despite the warmer weather, he wore a black leather jacket. Perhaps to hide the gun at his hip.

The guy held up his hands. “I’m unarmed.”

“Except for the gun at your side?”

“I meant I’m not immediately armed.”

“Semantics,” I said.

“Are you Chloe?”

“Presently.” I grinned. “I was told to ask for the Rook?”

“This way.” The guy hitched a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the stairwell in the far corner.

I’d purposefully left my bag in my stakeout hotel room, but I’d made sure to bring weapons. There was a gun at my back and a knife in each boot. I’d also clipped a few barrettes into my hair that could double as picks. I hadn’t ever had to use them—I preferred the efficiency of a gun—but it was always good to have backup.

Big guy went up the stairs first. I’d expected him to be winded after the first flight, but he kept a quick pace.

“So what’s your name?” I asked.

“Sasha,” he said.

“Are you the Rook’s bodyguard?”

“No. I’m his hairdresser.”

His back was to me and I couldn’t see his face, but the even tone of his voice made me pause. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “You think when we’re done here, you could touch up my roots?”

His massive shoulders shook when he laughed. “I could probably fit you in.”

We went up three flights of stairs before Sasha finally led me out of the stairwell. The fourth floor’s renovation was complete, so all I could see was the hallway that stretched before us. Sasha started down it.

“So what’s the Rook’s real name?” I asked.

Sasha shrugged. “Can’t tell you. I don’t even know his real name.”

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as burnt popcorn.”

“Oh, Sasha, I like you.”

He shot me another wolfish grin before stopping at a set of double doors. He grabbed both handles and turned, pushing the doors in with a rather exaggerated spread of his arms, as if he were revealing the inner sanctum of some important holy figure.

When I stepped around him to get a better look at the room, I realized it wasn’t an office so much as a penthouse suite. Two walls were constructed entirely of glass, giving the space a fishbowl feel.

In the corner opposite the door was an L-shaped couch, upholstered in caramel-colored leather. A massive glass coffee table sat in the center, a stack of books perched on the edge.

Sasha led me in farther, and the suite opened up to a state-of-the-art kitchen. In the kitchen stood the Rook.

“Hey,” he said, and smiled at me. There was a beer in his hand. “Want something to drink?”

“Sure. A Coke will do, if you have one.”

He nodded. To Sasha he said, “Alert the others. We’ll be ready in an hour.”

Sasha saluted the Rook and left, closing the doors behind him.

“You came,” the Rook said. He turned away from me and dug inside the fridge.

“I was curious. You said you had something more for me and I couldn’t help myself. Apparently you know the way to my cold, undying heart.”

He straightened and closed the fridge behind him with the sole of his boot. He came over and handed me a can of soda.

“Thanks.” I popped the tab. “So tell me what else you have to offer.”

He took a swig of his beer, still eyeing me. Although he wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans, he somehow managed to look incredibly hot. He tapped a finger against the beer bottle, the silver ring on his middle finger clinking against the glass.

“Right,” he said. “Straight to business, then?”

“Always.”

“It’s better if I show you.”

“Then do.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“If this is your selling strategy, it isn’t a very good one.”

He shifted just an inch or two, catching a slant of sunlight. It turned his green eyes so pale, they almost looked white. “One thing you should know about me,” he said, “is that I prefer honesty above all else.”

“Show me,” I said again, letting the smile drop from my face.

“This way.” He led me into an office at the back of the suite.

He set his beer down on a console table and went to the desk in the center of the room. With his boot, he nudged the chair away and bent over the computer keyboard, typing in a few commands, then clicking a few times.

“All right,” he said, and stepped away from the monitor. “Come see.”

I wasn’t sure what I expected to find when I made my way around the desk. Maybe logs from the old Angel Serum program, something we could use against Riley as leverage. Maybe photos or something that could incriminate the Branch.

Instead, I saw a video playing, the volume down low. I recognized the voice a split second before the image came into full view, and something close to fear ran down my spine.

There, on the monitor, staring back at me, was my brother. And just behind him, arms crossed over his chest, was Riley.

“What the hell is this?” I breathed, anger turning my voice gravelly.

“They took him after the car crash that killed your parents,” the Rook said. “They found him in the river and pulled him out.”

I whirled on him. “Who took him?”

“The Branch.”

“How is that even possible? How did they know—”

“Where to find him? Your dad was ex-Branch. He helped create the Turncoats. The car accident wasn’t an accident, Chloe.”

My hands tightened into fists at my sides. “This is a ruse. It’s been Photoshopped or—”

He shook his head.

“How did you get this?”

“I have a good source within the Branch. They’ve been supplying me with info, particularly on your brother and Riley, for a few months now.”

I turned back to the monitor and nudged the volume higher. My brother was describing the symptoms he was experiencing. Headaches, insomnia, muscle aches. The person asking the questions, behind the camera, was Connor.

He knew. The whole time, Connor knew my brother was alive and he never told me.

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“Still within the Branch. He’s—”

“I have to get him out. I’ve gotten people out before.”

“Chloe—”

I started for the door.

“Chloe, you have to listen to me. Your brother is not the same person you knew before the car crash. He’s been with the Branch so long that he’s—”

I twisted around again and the Rook nearly slammed into me. “He’s what?”

“He’s pretty high up.”

“How high?”

“Second-in-command now that Connor’s gone and Riley took his place at the top.”

I frowned, rage and desperation building inside me. “How does something like that happen? I know my brother, and he would never work for a smarmy asshole like Riley.”

“No,” the Rook said. “You
knew
your brother. His memories have likely been altered. He probably doesn’t even know himself anymore, let alone you.”

“I don’t care.” I surged forward again. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get him out.”

I left the penthouse and the Rook followed me into the hall.

“Chloe, listen to me.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I know where Riley will be.”

“I can find him on my own.”

Before I could reach the stairwell, the Rook grabbed my wrist and spun me around. I yanked my arm back, reaching for my gun.

“Too slow,” the Rook said, my gun in his hands.

How the hell did he lift my gun without my noticing?

He dropped out the magazine, letting it hit the floor with a
clack
. He emptied out the chambered round, too.

“You are really starting to piss me off, you know that?” I took a step toward him. “You don’t need me on your mission. Clearly you’re capable enough, so why the hell are you even bothering with any of this?”

“I do need you,” he said. “And you need me.”

“Maybe you don’t know this, but a personal vendetta isn’t very personal when you work with a group.”

“I can get you your brother back by dinnertime.”

I paused, waiting for the rush of blood in my ears to subside. As good as I was at tracking, even I couldn’t find Riley that fast. It’d take me a few days, at least, and now that I knew my brother was alive, I wanted him back, and I wanted him back right now.

I set my hands on my hips. “What the hell can I do that you can’t?”

He smiled, obviously pleased with the slight uptick of interest in my voice. I silently cursed myself for letting on.

“You can get inside,” he answered. “You’re the one person who Riley will want to see with his own eyes. He’ll want to watch you die.”

“Problem number one: I don’t actually want to die.”

“It won’t get that far.”

“Go on.”

“The plan is to get you close enough to gas them all. Then we’ll come in.”

“They’re going to be suspicious when I waltz in with gas canisters.”

The Rook smirked. “Do you really think so little of my strategizing?”

I shrugged.

“I have a plan,” he reassured me. “Are you game?”

There was really only one answer to that question. “Get me inside with the gas and I’ll be game for just about anything.”

The smile on his face shone all the way to his eyes. Apparently plotting murder and revenge put him in a good mood. I could relate.

“Come on,” he said, and strode away. “Let me introduce you to the team.”

The team was a large group of Turncoats, thirteen including the Rook. Sasha the hairdresser, I learned, was actually the Rook’s tech guy and would be facilitating the mission from a surveillance van two miles away.

The Rook’s inside source had said Riley and his team would be meeting a few business contacts at a house just outside the city. By the time we’d arrived and settled into our places, the sun was starting to set, sending a diffused, pale blue glow across the landscape.

The house where Riley was holding his meeting was, thankfully, far removed from its neighbors, with at least twenty acres of land on all sides. The Rook’s team had spread out upon arrival, waiting for the signal.

After the Rook and I left Sasha in his van, we ran the few miles to our entry point—a small grove of trees to the east. Hidden in some underbrush, we surveyed the property.