“It’s too hot right now for her out there, even with the fans on,” Rudd said.

“Go ’head and try to convince her of that,” the other responded, opening the doors.

They followed Rudd onto a sprawling back porch. Boston ferns sat in urns overlooking a carefully manicured lawn with a reflecting pool. The sound of waves echoed in the distance.

Observing it all was a woman sitting in a domed rattan chair. Beside her was a wheelchair, with a file resting in the seat. She turned to them as they stepped out.

William swallowed his disappointment. It never made sense that his grandmother would be here, that she was behind all of it. But there was a part of him that had hoped at the end of this bloody and frantic journey, she would be there to somehow make sense of it all.

The woman was, without a doubt, the oldest person he had ever seen. The hand she reached out to Rudd was small and frail, her cotton-white hair was pulled up in a tight bun. Thin glasses sat on her tiny nose.

Even as Rudd knelt before her, she did not take her eyes off William.

“You lived,” she said to Rudd, her eyes remaining fixed. Even at a distance, William could see they were a deep shade of blue.

“Barely,” Rudd said, holding her hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, at last looking to Rudd. “About Kevin and Neve. I know better than anyone what the Suits are capable of doing.”

“They knew the risks, just like all of us do.”

“Still…” She paused, looking at his singed arm. “You all must be exhausted. Rudd, make sure that burn isn’t serious. You know where we keep the first aid kit. The rest of you, we’ll have food brought up to you. We’ve laid out clothes for you in your rooms. All except for Mr. Chance. I need to speak with him.”

“Actually, I need to hear this too,” Quincy said. “I need some goddamn answers—”

“Show some respect.” The men from the doors moved in closer behind them.

“Respect to who? Where the hell are we? Who the hell are you people?” Quincy asked.

“Mr. Martin is right to ask,” the woman said. “You may have come to find William to make money, sir, but it has led you on a dangerous path, one you now cannot veer from.”

“I’m the only driver on my path, Ancient One,” Quincy said. “You can’t keep us here.”

“Show Mr. Martin to our finest accommodations,” she said.

Quincy was practically spun around into the house. With a slight shove, he was inside, the sound of his complaints echoing from the hallway.

“Rudd, you can’t risk infection.”

“I’m fine, Miss Blue.”

“Just go make sure that wound is clean. Come right back. When William and I are done here, I’ll need a full debriefing from you.”