He had no hope for himself. His life was forfeit, thanks to his actions. A fact that he’d accepted years ago.
Luca pushed himself up from the table, his ribs aching, his shoulder muscles hard as rock. He couldn’t keep going. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“What about food?” Selene asked. “I can start dinner now. None of us has eaten anything.”
He shook his head. “I’m not hungry. Right now, I simply need to rest.”
Selene nodded, and Luca walked stiffly toward the couch.
“Take the bed,” Selene said.
“No, there is only one bed, you should have it.” Luca gestured between them.
“Right, he knows we’re sleeping together because he spied on us with that webcam,” Oscar said, but the anger in his words had no heat behind it.
I didn’t look. I respected your privacy.
Those were the things he should have said.
Instead, what he said was, “I was rather disappointed when you stopped.”
Oscar threw his head back and laughed, and Selene arched a brow at him while smiling.
“Go get in bed,” Selene said. “I think the couch pulls out. We’ll sleep there tonight.”
He should offer to sleep on the floor. He should insist on taking the couch.
But he hurt.
His whole body ached, he was tired, and more than that, it felt good to let Selene and Oscar keep taking care of him, even if all they were doing was letting him have the bed.
Chapter Seven
Selene made Oscar memorize the phone number for the Grand Masters’ advisors—“Call them before nine-one-one unless you’re having a medical emergency”—before making him dial the newly memorized digits on the chicken phone.
“Yes?” Sebastian answered.
“It’s, uh, Oscar Hayden.” God, he hated talking on the phone. What was this, fucking nineteen-ninety, that he had to talk to someone on an actual landline phone?
“We’re working on extracting you, but it’s not going to happen for at least twenty-four hours. Maybe more, if there’s no break in the weather.”
Oscar glanced out the kitchen window. The snow was really piling up. If he had to guess, he’d say they’d already gotten a foot and it was showing no signs of stopping soon. As a Southerner, he wasn’t accustomed to weather like this. He didn’t like the feeling of being so completely trapped by nature.
“Yeah, I could have told you that.”
Sebastian snorted. “Is there a reason for your call?”
“We have new information.” Selene snatched the chicken leg away from him. Oscar wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him so they could both hear. And because he liked the feel of her body against his.
“Tell me.”
Selene briefly outlined what they’d learned from Luca about the Bellator Dei, who stood in righteous moral opposition to the Masters’ Admiralty. About his sister who, unlike him, was still a devout member and therefore essentially a hostage.
“Ohh, plot twist.” Franco’s accented voice sounded distant, but the words were audible, and when Sebastian sighed, Oscar couldn’t stop the snort-laugh.
“That answers some questions,” Sebastian said. “But raises others.” There was a long pause. “Be careful.”
“You think he’s lying?” Oscar asked, all amusement gone.
“Possibly. Right now, we have no proof other than his word that he’s the bomb designer. It could be a ruse.”
“But it was his tablet that Langston accidentally grabbed.”
“It was a tablet in his possession. If he were the man ordered to actually build and test the bomb, wouldn’t he need a copy of the diagram?”
Oscar and Selene frowned at one another. Sebastian had a point, but he hadn’t been in that house. Hadn’t seen the way Luca had taken the beating, heard Luca help them by cluing them in about what to say and not say.
“And there are still too many questions we don’t have answers to,” Sebastian continued. “Including how he found you at that safe house.”
“We’ll ask him,” Oscar said.
“Wait, and we’ll question him once we extract you.”
Oscar glanced at Selene and shook his head. Selene frowned, but then nodded in agreement.
“There’s one additional piece of information,” Selene said. “He thinks we’re members of the Masters’ Admiralty. He admitted that until he met Langston, he hadn’t known that the Masters’ Admiralty also operated in America.”
Another long silence, then Sebastian said, “Keep it that way. Don’t offer any information, and whatever he does think about the Masters’ Admiralty, confirm the information as if it’s correct, even if it’s not.”
“Very well. Is there anything else we should do?” Selene asked.
“Don’t get close to him. You can’t trust him.” Sebastian paused,