Desmond saw the same thing on Conner’s face that he had seen there a week ago, in the holding cell on the Kentaro Maru: hurt. Desmond understood now. His betrayal had wounded Conner in a way the man had never thought possible.

Desmond expected Conner to threaten him, but he didn’t. His tone was soft, pleading.

“Please, Des. End this. We’ll forget about it.”

“You know we can’t.”

“We’ve won, brother. The world is ours. The Looking Glass will be completed within days. We’ve done it. The hard part’s over. Please, Desmond. Please.”

His little brother needed him. In some ways, the fire that had almost claimed Conner’s life had never stopped hurting him. But now his pain could end. The Looking Glass could save him. And Desmond alone held the key to the final piece: Rendition. With it, he held the power to heal his brother.

Soldiers peeked around the door frame behind Conner and trained rifles on Desmond and Avery, the red dots moving over their bodies like crawling insects.

Avery leaned forward, hiding her head behind Desmond.

Her voice was a very nervous whisper. “What are you thinking here, Des?”

Chapter 122

Chapter 122

William watched Yuri pace across the office. The small Russian man dismissed the guards but left William’s hands bound.

William knew he had to buy time. It was his only chance of escape, and the team’s only chance to complete their mission. If he could stall long enough, maybe Desmond and Avery could get out of the building and upload the list to the US government servers. Or maybe Peyton and Charlotte could find something they could use.

And if he was really lucky, the Marines would arrive to save them all.

In the years William had known Yuri, the smaller man had always been stoic, his face made of stone. William had wondered if that was a result of his growing up in Stalingrad during World War II, where life was a living hell. Day and night, the Nazis had pounded the city to rubble and slaughtered its people, including Yuri’s parents and two brothers.

But now, in the fourth-floor corner office, William saw a softer, more reflective expression on his old friend’s face. He hoped he could use that.

“There’s still time to stop this, Yuri.”

“There isn’t. We both know it.”

“It was you, wasn’t it? The purge.”

Yuri sat on the end of the desk. “Yes.”

“They were our friends, Yuri. And you slaughtered them.”