THIRTY-TWO

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If you don't hunt it down and kill it, it will hunt you down and kill you.

—Flannery O'Connor

LAUREN

"So let me get this straight, he just walked in here and said he wanted to die?"

Chris asked as Camz and I stared at a strapped down Avian from behind a one-way mirror.

The room he was in was smaller than the rooms we had back home. However, our Washington home hadn't been designed with the same functions.

It was a plain gray room with no outlets for natural lighting. There was just a single door and the glass panel that allowed us to look in. This make-shift jail
was the only security we had invested in in this home. But it would get the job done.

He wasn't struggling. He sat as comfortably as someone who was strapped, almost naked, to a chair could sit. All he had on was his underwear, and a tight bandage around his kneecap. The blood was already starting to bleed though it.

Obviously, he hadn't bothered with a doctor however he didn't look to be in pain. Which was odd seeing as how both Vero and Chris had beaten the living shit out of him before they dragged his ass in here. His lip was busted, his eye was bruised, and he had a few cuts all over his arms, neck and face.

"Does anyone else think this is insane?" Chris went on. "This cannot be this guys last move. He wouldn't just destroy everything hes spent a lifetime building."

"I agree. This is fucked up, even for him. But Im going through all of this and its all-real. Its our real bank accounts, even the offshore ones, our trade
partners, factory sights; he wanted us to see he knew it all. And we have twentytwo hours left before this goes to every lead broadcasting outlet in the world,"
Vero snapped typing away on her computer screen. "He even has the names and emails of all the journalists he wants these files to go to lined up and ready to go."

Proving that he even wanted to control his own downfall.

I glanced to Camz and found her staring intensely at Avian. I couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking what I was thinking. How fast could we outrun
this? Could we even out run this? We would have to run not only from our lives but we'd also have to change our faces. We would be on the top of the list for the FBI, CIA, and every other damn abbreviation in the book. We would be the most wanted people in the world. How could we run with Ethan? His face would be all over the media just like ours. They'd freeze all of our assets and tear down our operations both legal and illegal. The more I thought about running, the less and less likely it seemed to be an option. Which left us with two choices: stay and win, or stay and die—because they weren't going to be able to take us alive.

"You should talk to him," I said to her. Because if I did I might've actually skipped the talking part and immediately start beating his face.

She turned to Chris. "Bring Monte here as fast as you can, he's at the rehab center."

He nodded and hurried out of the room.

"I'll be right back," Camz said to the both of us as she walked out.

What the fuck? We didn't have time for this!

"Am I the only one aware of the doomsday clock thats ticking away right now?!" Vero asked as she slammed her hands on the table. "We aren't going to be able to hack this. Should I get Fedel and have the family meet us? We have to go now and get a head start on all this."

"We aren't running," I said to her as Camz returned with a bottle of whiskey, a first aid kit, and small duffle bag.

She said nothing to either of us before she headed inside the room and closed the door with her foot.

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