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The driver stopped the SUV in front of two steel doors and exited the vehicle. Roman followed from the passenger side. Pete’s door opened and hands yanked him out. He blinked against the bright sunlight. “Time to night-night,” the solider said. Pain erupted from the back of his head. Black spots dotted his vision and then everything went dark.

His wrists ached and he couldn’t feel his hands. Pete groaned, rolling his head back. A cold splash of water hit his face a second before a hand slapped his cheek three quick times.

“Wake up,” a voice commanded.

Pete blinked his eyes open and tried to move his hands. His arms were lifted above him, resting against the sides of his head. When he tried to move them, the sound of metal clanging together had him looking up. He was chained to the ceiling, his hands lifted over his head. His feet weren’t chained down, but he couldn’t move far. He looked around, taking stock.

They were inside the warehouse now. It was empty, aside from a few forgotten chairs and empty boxes. Trash littered the floor as if everyone ran out so fast, they didn’t even have time to pick up their papers as they went. Soldiers stood around them, their faces expressionless, guns held ready at their sides. When he looked forward he sucked in a quick breath. Seamus sat on a chair, his hands and feet bound. From the way his head was fallen forward, Pete guessed he was still passed out.

“Welcome back,” Roman’s voice spoke from behind him. Pete listened to his footsteps before he came into view.

“What do you want?” Pete gritted.

Roman tilted his head to the side, observing him. “Our sources tell us that there is a main location where your kind gathers.”

“What kind? Regular working, blue collared folk? ‘Cause yeah we do, it’s called the pub. You’ve been there, remember?”

Roman clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Always the smart ass.” He shook his head. “You know what kind I mean. And you’re going to tell me where I can find it, or your friend here is going to pay the price of your silence.”

Pete smiled. “Mate, even if I had something to tell you, I wouldn’t.” He spat at his feet. “Go to hell.”

“I wonder if your friend will appreciate your stubbornness as much as I do.” Roman turned his back, signalling to one of the soldiers who stepped forward and woke Seamus up the same way they had him. Pete watched as his best friend struggled to move then realization set in. Their eyes met. Pete felt sick at what he saw there.

“Tell me,” Roman said to Seamus. “Your friend here seems to have lost his memory, but perhaps yours is a little clearer.” He crouched down in front of the chair, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “Where is the rebel headquarters?”

Seamus glanced at Pete quickly before looking back at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman grunted. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He motioned with his head. Two soldiers walked up, flexing their hands. Pete struggled against his chains to no avail. The first one landed a punch right in Seamus’ stomach. His friend bent over as much as he could from the way he was tied up, air rushing out of his lungs. The next hit was right to the kidneys. They took turns, each hitting vulnerable spots on Seamus’ torso. Never once did he cry out.

“Your memory getting any better?” Roman asked.

Seamus looked up and smiled. “Nope.”

A fist hit him right across his left cheek. His head whipped to the side violently. Blood oozed from a cut along his cheekbone, and another on his lip. Another hit from the right side had his head whipping the other way, both sides bleeding. Roman turned to Pete.

“What about you?”

Pete looked at Seamus, dread filling him. They couldn’t talk. It was the number one rule. No matter what, you didn’t talk. His best friend was sitting there taking a beating, both eyes now closed and puffy, and there was nothing he could do about it. Pete looked at Roman and just shook his head. He didn’t trust his voice right now. Hate so strong was burning in his gut. Roman Adamson was a dead man if he lived through this.

The soldiers continued their beating. The sound of flesh on flesh was the only noise in the warehouse, aside from Seamus’ grunts and the clanging of Pete’s chains. He paced in the small area allowed to him, his breathing coming out harsh and fast.

Seamus’ head lolled forward like he no longer had the strength to keep it up on his own. A distressed whine escaped Pete’s mouth, a sound he had never made in his life. Wet, hot tears leaked out the corner of his eyes.

Roman stopped them, turning to Pete quizzically. “How about now?”

Pete looked at Roman, pleading silently with his eyes. The man just lifted his eyebrows in question. Pete looked back at his friend, a heavy weight in his chest. Was he going to have to stand here and watch his best friend be beaten to death? There would be no recovering from that. How could he ever move on knowing he did nothing to save him? But what the rebels fought for was bigger than the two of them. There was no way he could rat them out. He looked back at Roman and shook his head once.

“Knuckles, I think,” Roman said. Pete’s head snapped back to the soldiers around Seamus, and saw them slip brass knuckles onto their first.

“No!” Pete screamed, charging forward only to be pulled back by the chains. “You fucking bastards! I’ll kill you all, I swear it, I’ll kill you all.”

Roman laughed. “Go on,” he told them.

Seamus lifted his head, meeting his gaze across the small space.

“Please,” Pete said in a whisper. They couldn’t do this. Not to Seamus. The first hit split the skin on his right cheek right open. Pete pulled at the chains harder, feeling the metal cut into his skin. “DAMN YOU!” He strained forward, tearing at his skin more, but he didn’t care. Each hit to Seamus was killing a part of him. “DAMN YOU!” he cried out.

Seamus was crying now. Pete wasn’t sure if he was trying to speak. If he was, it was unintelligible around the blood and swollen lips. It felt like his heart was being ripped from his body. Pete looked to Roman. “Please,” he said. “Put me in that chair. I’ll take the beating. Just let him go before he’s dead.
Please
.” Roman’s face was expressionless. Pete looked back to Seamus, another whimper escaping him. “Seamus?” he called out. “Seamus?”

Slowly, his best friend lifted his head and met his gaze. Tears were pouring down Pete’s face now. He tried to move closer even though he knew there was no point. His mouth opened, but no words came out. What could he say? Nothing could express what this was doing to him. One of the soldiers hit upward, landing square on his jaw. Seamus’ head snapped backward and stayed there.

“NO!” Pete screamed. A sob broke out. “Seamus? Oh God. Seamus?” He didn’t move. Pete tried to see if he was breathing, but he couldn’t tell from there. A phone rang suddenly, cutting into the eerie silence of the room. Roman held up his hand to stop the two soldiers. He walked away, his voice low as he spoke to whoever was on the other line.

Pete’s blood roared in his ears as he kept his eyes on Seamus. He barely acknowledged it when Roman came back to stand in front of him – until he spoke. “St. Anne’s Cathedral,” he said.

Pete’s eyes met his. They stared at each other for what felt like a long time, until a slow smile spread across the other man’s face. “Looks like I didn’t need you two after all,” he said. “Here’s a tip,
mate
. Never befriend a mind reader.”

His head was shaking before he even realized he was doing it. This was not Dinah. It couldn’t be.

Roman stepped closer, his voice dropping so only Pete could hear it. “You didn’t think I knew, did you? Here’s a secret for you, I
always
know what she’s up to. Who do you think sent her to you?” They looked at each other. “The only reason she was there was to find out information. That’s all it was ever about.”

“You don’t know shit,” Pete spat.

“I know a lot more than you do. Tell me, did she ever tell you her real name?” Pete pressed his lips together. This was just a game, he told himself. He was just trying to fill his head with lies so he’d turn against her. “I’m betting she didn’t. All those nights together, and you never knew. What about Bridgette? Did she know?”

Pete’s head snapped back. “What do you know about Bridgette?”

“I know your sorry ass doesn’t deserve her,” he said. “How does it feel knowing you were doing sisters? Does that make you feel like a bigger man?”

Sisters? Pete’s mind raced to keep up. What was he talking about? “I can see the confusion on your face. Didn’t she tell you? Dinah’s real name is Charlotte,” he said, his eyes searching his face. “Charlotte Hatcher.”

Everything around him seemed to freeze. Seamus, the soldiers, everything blurred in the background as he focused on Roman. Dinah was Charlotte Hatcher? That was impossible. Charlotte had died with her mother…Pete’s heart sank. Dinah’s story came back, her voice echoing in his head. Of course. The army was looking for Douglas that day, and she had said he father was a rebel. Oh my God, Pete thought. Did Douglas know?

“You make me sick,” Roman said, his voice filled with venom. Pete looked back up to meet his eyes. “Both of those girls deserve better.”

“I don’t know what you think you know,” Pete said. “But Bridgette is my friend. I’m the only family she has left. I’ve never done a thing with her, except make sure she was safe and alive.” Pete watched as his words sank in. He thought he saw a flash of horror in the other man’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure.

Neither of them said anything until Roman stepped back and told his men to pack up. “Stay away from Lottey,” he said to Pete, his eyes hard. Pete wanted to laugh. As if he needed that warning. Dinah wasn’t even Dinah. She was some other girl he didn’t even know. This whole time, everything between them, it had all been a lie – she was just there to spy on him. As far as Pete was concerned, she was dead to him. No one else could have given them St. Anne’s but her. She was able to read his mind now, and never once had she let on. Did she know what was being done to them right now? Had she played a part in this too? Was that why she had to leave so early this morning? He felt sicker than he had in his entire life. “I’ll let you live so you can watch everything you’ve built crumble to pieces. Consider it a gift. Next time we’re alone, you might not be so lucky,” Roman continued.

Before he could say anything back, pain erupted just behind his ear again and everything went blissfully to black. The last thing he thought was what a fool he had been, because he was pretty sure he had fallen in love with her. He had fallen in love with a lie.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

It was eight in the morning when she started home. Bridgette had decided to go out for Michelle’s birthday the night before, and ended up crashing at her place. As she walked toward her apartment, head pounding, eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight, she decided she was no longer going out to celebrate birthdays. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this crappy. Not that she hadn’t been drunk before, she had, but every time she felt like this she swore she’d never do it again – this time she meant it.

As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she heard tiny footsteps on the landing above. Smiling to herself, she crouched low, coming up quieter than before. She waited, just at the top, pressing her body close to the wall. Counting to three, she threw her upper body forward with a “Ah ha!” causing the tiny boy waiting there to erupt into giddy screams.

“You thought you had me, didn’t you?” she laughed, walking up the rest of the way and scooping him up. “How are you this morning Mr. Timothy, my favourite little three year old?”

“Fine,” he said smiling, one of his front teeth missing. She mussed his strawberry blonde hair and set him down in front of the open door to his apartment. Bridgette poked her head inside.

“Hey Karen,” she called out. Timothy’s mother stood in the kitchen, her back turned. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Bridgette.

“Hey you,” she said. “How was work?”

Bridgette shrugged. “Same as always.”

“Why are you just getting home now?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. Timothy squealed as his little sister, Stella, chased him.

Turning back to their mom, Bridgette replied, “It was my friend’s birthday so I crashed at her place.”

“Well you’ve been a pretty popular girl this morning.”

Bridgette looked at her, confused. “Popular?”

Karen nodded. “Two guys came by here this morning looking for you. Timothy’s been in and out all morning, so I saw both of them.”

Probably McKay, Bridgette thought. He was always checking up on her.

“One of them said he’s your father,” she said.

Bridgette’s whole body heated in anger. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Had she not made herself clear? She wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’ve never even heard of you mentioning your father, so I assumed he was lying.”

Bridgette smiled tightly. “We’re not close,” she said.

“Oh. So he was your dad? Well now I feel bad for being so rude,” she said with a laugh. “I just figured he was an admirer from the club.”

“Don’t worry, I would have been rude had I been here.”

Karen frowned, but didn’t comment. Bridgette waved goodbye, wishing them a good day and turned to go to her apartment.

“Wait,” Karen called out. “The other guy,” she hesitated. “I’m not sure, but I think he was that Roman Adamson fellow. Don’t take my word for it,” she quickly said as Bridgette’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve only seen him a couple of times, so I can’t be sure. But I don’t know too many men with long, dark hair like that, and so…built,” she said, blushing.

Roman? That didn’t make sense. Bridgette’s head swirled. Why on earth would Roman come to her place? And how would he know where she lived? He’s the second in command, she reminded herself. He probably knew where everyone lived, or could easily find out. It should make her nervous that he’d seek her out, and yet her stomach rolled with excitement instead. Bridgette muttered something about it probably being someone else and hurried over to her apartment. As soon as she walked in the door she spotted the folded note on the floor. Her father’s handwriting was unmistakable across the front.