REESE

chapter forty three.

So, the minute the order arose for two, three hundred million dollar, Cryptic F-35 fighter jets to take off on American soil, a third party entered the war.

And the proverbial wall of silence crumbled.

Cu è surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent'anni 'mpaci.

He who is deaf, blind and silent will live a hundred years in peace.

But he who is grieving can never be silent.

So the war rages on.

-

"There's no possible point of entry."

The Italian warehouse was quiet. The silence a gross misrepresentation of the gravity of the situation but an unnerving portrayal of the hope. The AEI army sat on standby merely three miles away, ready and waiting to once again go to war for the retrieval of their heirs. However, France was now no longer readily accessible. Time was of the essence and the AEI alliance was running out of it.

"Air forces deployed, border patrols, fucking armed soldiers patrolling goddamn elementary schools." Alexander cringed as Jonathon slammed his phone down hard enough to make it crack. "They're everywhere and there's not one single fucking point of entry."

Alexander could feel the frustration in the air. A vortex of anger and unease spun around circling the bodies of his allies. Six empires stood in front of him, in the same room, on the same side. Every single person present was fighting for the same people, for the same outcome. But even though they had the numbers to calculate their problems on their side, the solutions didn't follow.

"I believe we are going to have to wait the lockdown out." Stephen spoke up, exhaustion coating his words. "As of this moment, the risk-level in France is too high. They're looking for us, for the people behind the attack. Their military is out for blood so any foreign visitor is going to be screened as an intruder, or in our case, a bloody terrorist."

Feeling his heart thrum in protest, Alexander shook his head. "We can't wait it out. We received a signal from Reese's tracker a little over an hour ago." He reminded. "But we don't know anything about her current state or Carver's. We don't even know if they're still alive and the chances go down every second we delay their rescue."

"They're alive." Alexander heard the desperation in the American Don's voice loud and clear. "They have to be."

"There are other things to consider as well." Vincent Takahashi spoke up from beside Alexander. The Japanese Don looked toward his son who handed him a sheet of paper. "Two hundred and forty-eight hours of nothing. Not a single peep from Reese, Carver, or teams five and six, or the tracker. Then suddenly Reese's tracker sends out a signal? A signal that only lasts about five minutes before it cuts out? And not to mention, because of that very signal we know that they are underground at the Port of Paris."

He straightened as he clicked his tongue. "How does that make sense? How does a girl that was shot at point-blank a week ago, somehow suddenly get her tracker working? Did they give her medical treatment? If they did, why? Why execute a lethal shot just to save her life afterwards? It doesn't make sense."

"Are you saying that it's a trap?" Alexander pushed down the nausea that swirled in his stomach at the possibility of Reese's call for help being a lie. He no longer trusted hope but that didn't mean he was immune to hope's clutches. No matter how hard he tried to untether himself from the feeling, it bloomed in his heart anyways.

"No, that's not what I'm saying." Vincent explained. "I'm saying that we have seen what the French empire is capable of, what they are known for. They are brutal, unrelenting, cruel individuals that are just as sick of this war as we are." He paused, his face softening at everyone's haunted faces. "If Ree and Carver are alive, I don't even want to imagine what they are going through down there."