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“Okay, son,” he said gently. “If he took his daughters, I’m sure he means them no harm.”

Pete laughed, sounding slightly hysterical. He explained the rest, some of it while they sat there, the remainder while they packed up the car and left. His father agreed to go to his house, which was the first step. Now he just needed to convince him about everything else that was happening.

When they got in, Michael went directly to Pete’s bedroom to check on Seamus. Garrett walked out looking tired.

“How is he?” Trent asked.

“He just moans,” Garret said. “He hasn’t opened his eyes once.”

“He probably can’t,” Pete said. “They’re too swollen.”

The three brothers stood around his island.

“What do we do now?” Garrett asked.

“We need to figure out where the General has taken the girls, and then we need to figure out what the hell he has planned and stop him.”

“Just the three of us?” Garrett looked unconvinced.

Pete shook his head. “I know there are others who think Douglas is out of line. We just need to contact the right people.”

“We get rid of Douglas, and then what?” Trent said.

“Then we get da to take over,” Pete answered.

Both boys snorted. “He’s not going to agree to that,” Garrett pointed out.

“Then we’ll just have to convince him. In the meantime, we need to start making some phone calls to whoever has phones, and paying some visits to those who don’t. Anyone you can think of who will be ready and willing to stand by us. We also have to figure out where he’d take them.”

“There’s another church,” their dad said, walking out of the bedroom. “A small little chapel in the upper section. Douglas had a way to get to it from the ghetto. It’s most likely where he’ll go now.”

Pete nodded gratefully. “Can you describe what it looks like?”

His father smiled. “Even better. I can draw you a map.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Out of all the scenarios she had come up with in her head on the way over to Pete’s, not one of them had been remotely close to this. To say Charlotte was shocked would have been the understatement of her life. She got back, not one family member, but two. Although one she could seriously do without, she decided, watching her father as he spoke softly to his goons. Bridgette wasn’t in the same room as her, and for that Charlotte was thankful. She just prayed Bridgette wasn’t in the same sort of situation that she currently was.

Charlotte shifted in the chair slightly, the ropes cutting into her exposed wrists. She had no idea where they were, but from the look of things, she’d say a basement. The walls were rough, old stone, sparkling with moisture. The air had a musty, dirt smell. She had no idea what the floors were made of, but they looked worn, uneven, and slick.

The room was just a small ten by ten with a mirror on one wall. It didn’t take a genius to guess that it was a two-way mirror. It made her wonder what in the hell her father used this place for. And how long had he had it? If she’d learned one thing so far during this short and painful reunion with her father, it was that she was no longer interested in knowing what it was he did. No wonder her mother had kept it from them. Charlotte had a sneaking suspicion, when looked at closely, Douglas Hatcher was not that far removed from Ludwig Tenebris. Both men had blood on their hands, and apparently Douglas Hatcher didn’t care if that blood was related to him.

One of the soldiers stood with his gun aimed at her. She wasn’t exactly sure why, considering she was tied to a chair. She had mental powers, not super strength powers. The only way she was bursting out of these restraints was if she had a knife and a little bit of privacy. The soldier stared at her, his eyes never leaving. She flicked her gaze to his briefly now and again, and every time he would be looking back. It was making her downright nervous. From the pinched look of his eyes, she guessed he was wondering just how strong her mind reading capabilities were. She’d seen that look many times before. Like if they concentrated on her hard enough she’d speak to them telepathically and reveal all their inner, darkest secrets. Or that somehow staring at her would increase their defence against her. Fools.

She slowly turned her head to meet his stare straight on, this time not looking away. “Take a picture,” she said dryly. “It lasts longer.”

His mouth turned down in a look of disgust. “You’re a traitor to your people,” he said.

“Oh? My people who currently have me tied to a chair? Those people? Are those the people you’re talking about? Because I got to tell you, from this standpoint, I’m not really sure why I
wouldn’t
be a traitor.”

“Enough,” her father said, walking into the room. “Don’t speak to her,” he scolded the man. He turned to her, that familiar crease between his eyebrows appearing. She remembered it from whenever he was upset with her. It hadn’t been often, but it was a key indication that she was in shit. For the most part, current circumstances aside, she had always been a good, obedient daughter. Her father had never been the overly loving type, but she still looked for his approval growing up. Now she couldn’t fathom why.

“You mother is probably spinning in her grave at what you’ve become,” he said.

“The grave you helped put her in?” she replied with a sweet smile. His face hardened. “What do you want from me,
dad
? If you’re going to kill me then go ahead. What are you waiting for?”

He smiled, not the kind one she had memories of, but one that left her with chills. “Oh I’m not going to kill you, Charlotte. You’re my bartering piece – assurance that everything will get done exactly the way I want it to.” He walked closer to her, crouching down two feet away from the chair. “Your sister is very adamant that no harm comes to you. She’s rather – protective.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “What does Bridgette have to do with this? I only just found her before you arrived. She has nothing to do with me and my affiliations.”

“I’m well aware,” he said. “However, I need her help with this.”

“Help with what?” she asked, tentatively.

He stood back up. “Not your problem. What I need from
you
is a little bit of information.”

“Fuck you.” Pain exploded in her left cheek as her head whipped to the side. Blood filled her mouth from a cut on the inside of her cheek. She blinked back the stars dotting her vision as she wiggled her jaw back and forth gingerly. “So much for no harm,” she said, spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor.

“I promised no
serious
harm would befall you, but I can’t guarantee you won’t sustain some injuries if you continue to be difficult.”

Charlotte looked up at the soldier who just struck. She made a quick mental note to introduce his balls to her foot if she ever got out of this.

“Now,” her father said, grabbing her attention again. “Let’s try this once more, shall we? I’m sure you will have no problem giving me the information I need from now on, correct?”

Charlotte spat another mouthful on the floor, glaring up at him. “I believe my previous statement still stands.”

“A pity,” he said, frowning. Charlotte heard the rustle of fabric a second before the soldier’s fist hit. With each blow, she realized that the physical pain was no match to the hurt from Pete’s rejection. She had told him she loved him. What had he done? Absolutely nothing. Nada. Not a thing. She wondered if he ever felt anything for her in the short time they had been together. Maybe he hadn’t, she considered. Maybe it was all just fun for him, so when Roman told him lies he was quick to believe it. Perhaps it had been easy for him to completely disregard her and write her out of his life. Those possibilities killed, a thousand times more than the blows she was suffering.

Her responses were becoming more gargled as she fought to find her voice around the pain. She was pretty sure one of her ribs were cracked, and her lip had split open to the point that whenever she dared to move it to form words, her mouth would fill with fresh blood. The entire time her father stood back and watched. He’d insist on her cooperation, she’d answer with an offensive reply, and the beating would ensue. This continued on until the door next to the mirror burst open, her sister standing there chalk white, eyes wide with horror. Charlotte tried to smile so she would see she was still okay – well, relatively. Except as soon as she did so, her lips split and blood choked her again. She gagged and spat, looking up to see Bridgette was quite possibly even paler. Whoops, she thought. So much for making her feel better.

“Are you insane?” Bridgette yelled, taking a step into the room. Her father was leaning against the mirror, arms crossed over his chest. There wasn’t a speck of regret on his face as he stood there watching his youngest child get beaten while tied to a chair. “You promised,” she said, pointing an angry finger in his face.

“I promised she wouldn’t be seriously harmed,” he replied. “I can’t promise she won’t be harmed at all if she doesn’t cooperate with us.”

Bridgette looked over at her sister hunched in the chair. “This isn’t right,” she said. “I won’t help you if this is how you’ll treat her.”

Her father splayed his hands in front of him like there was nothing he could do. “Then, by all means,
you
convince her to start talking. Otherwise I’ll have to do it my way.”

Bridgette walked over to Charlotte and knelt in front of her. She gently stroked the strands of hair sticking to her face, peering into her eyes. Eyes so much like her own, and yet so incredibly different. Charlotte always had so much more strength than Bridgette ever had. You could see it in her eyes. They had that spark to them that said she wasn’t going to let anyone push her around. And even tied up and beaten it shone through. That ever present gleam of rebellion.

“Charlie,” she whispered, calling her the nickname she used when they were younger. “I need you to tell dad what he wants to know so we can stop all this. If we just do as he says, we can walk away from all of this and put it behind us.”

Her sister snorted, glaring over her shoulder at their father. She spat out a mouthful of blood. “You’re a fool if you believe that. He’ll never just let us walk way. Especially me,” she choked.

“He will,” she said. “He promised.”

Their eyes met, her sister’s unconvinced. “I don’t trust him and neither should you.”

“At this point I don’t have any other choice.”

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, until Charlotte finally dropped her head with a great sigh. Charlotte looked at their father as Bridgette kept her focus on her sister. “What do you need to know?”

“How you operate on the inside,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you wear your mask at all times?”

Her sister hesitated, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Yes,” she replied slowly.

“Excellent. What do they call you in there?”

“Why?”

A fist hit her in the stomach, doubling her over. Bridgette cried out, wrapping her arms protectively around her. “John, I swear to God if you hit her one more time I’ll kill you myself,” Bridgette said.

“She needs to answer the question, not ask her own,” he said.

“She’s my sister, John! For crying out loud you grew up down the street from her. And she’s a girl.”

The man spat on the floor, his lip curled up in disgust. “From where I stand she looks a whole lot like the enemy to me.”

Bridgette shook her head in disbelief. These men were just as brainwashed as the New World army soldiers. “I’m fine, Bridge,” Charlotte said against her shoulder. She backed up, looking at her closely. So much strength, she thought admiringly. She was starting to wonder just how far her sister would have pushed them had she not barged in. The soldiers in the other room had kept her out while she watched through the window, but she’d had enough. And she was glad for it, otherwise who knew what shape Charlotte would have been in.

Her father was very upfront about his plan and the role Bridgette would play. She’d always promised herself she wouldn’t get involved in this rebellion, but sometimes there was just no way around it. When he threatened her sister’s life if she didn’t agree she knew she had no choice. She only just got her sister back; there was no way she was losing her again. Anything was worth keeping her family alive and close.

“Just answer their questions,” she said. “I need you to do this. For me. I can’t watch them hit you again.”

Charlotte nodded. “Ludwig calls me Dinah, or Di,” she answered, only looking at Bridgette now. Her voice was hoarse, laced with pain. “Roman calls me Lottey all the time, and I give him shit for it. Everyone else calls me X.” Bridgette smiled encouragingly at her.

“Where is your room?”

“Fourth floor, room two-o-eight.” Still she only looked at her, even though it was their father asking the questions.

“What is your normal schedule?”

“I wake up and meet them at Ludwig’s office in the morning.”

“What time?”

“Seven.”

“Where’s the office.”

“Second floor, directly across from the elevators down the hall. Two large double doors. You can’t miss it.”