I registered the scent of steams and spices as I stepped through the door, though something – or I suppose I should say someone – more distinct ensnare my attention.

Wyatt loomed in a booth at the opposite end of the room, his back to the wall, his eyes on the entrance where I entered. He sipped a glass of what appeared to be water while scrutinizing me.

On the opposite end of the booth’s table sat Sylvia, chin tucked in while staring at her half-empty glass. She swirled the yellowish-green drink with her bright red straw.

It’s showtime, I thought as I strolled past other booths. A couple of the booths held nothing more than deserted dishes. Those were my favorites – less potential collateral. I sadly wasn’t fortunate enough to have no booth occupied. One hosted two elders – one male, one female – who I concluded were married based on their matching silver bracelets. Another included a group of girls around my age who giggled over something on a phone they crowded around. The third featured a heavy-set, dark-skinned man and two similar-appearing kids eating pasta, so I assumed they were family. I could be wrong, though.

Whoever they were, they were all incentive to execute the scheme to the best of my capabilities.

Sylvia twisted her head and glanced back once I closed in. She held her breath.

I glanced down at her and, with a Zimavatan accent, murmured, “There’s a green car outside waiting for you. Say to the man ‘do jailbirds fly.’ Go with him if he answers, ‘they dream of flying.’”

A flicker of hope brightened her eyes, but tears extinguished that light. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

I placed my finger over my lips and shushed.

“Go,” he said, his voice neutral, yet somehow dead.

Sylvia launched out of the booth and blitzed out of the location – drawing eyes as she did, though I suspect those watching wrote it off. There could’ve been many explanations for why she left. They simply knew it was none of their business.

“Howdy, Robyn,” he said with a familiar twang.

“Wyatt…”

With a neutral whisper, he said, “You can imagine my surprise when I realized who you were. Sadly, you had long gone once I did. Won’t let that happen again.”

We’ll see about that, I thought as I slid into the seat across from him.

“If you’re thinking about escaping, go ahead. I won’t stop you. However, your actions will have consequences.”

He withdrew a slim, silver phone from his pocket, pressed the screen a few times, and slid it across the table.

The word “live” flashed on the screen which featured a rustic mountain resort. I recognized it as Narcissa’s home.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I didn’t reveal the truth of Sokkinhveim for a reason,” Wyatt said. “I know about Gabrielle.”

My throat constricted and I wished I could’ve had someone present for a counter. It’s of no harm, I reassured myself. After all, I had a hostage as well.

He reclaimed his phone and swiped through, seeking something. Once found, he presented it.

Although the image was poorly lit, I could make out a figure. A man with a darker complexion and clad in tattered clothes squatted against a wall. A gloved hand reached from behind the image and heaved the head up. Blood gushed out a single gash across his neck.

My body tensed while hurried, noisy puffs escaped through my nose.

“Hello!” a saccharine voice said while Wyatt placed his hand atop the phone and drew it in. “My name’s Jess, I’ll be your server this evening.”

“May I have a moment?” I asked.

The waitress nodded and departed.

Once she was out of earshot, Wyatt muttered, “I will kill every man, woman, and child in this joint if that’s what it takes to leave with you. Don’t play any games with me.”

I gritted my teeth and edged my lips. “You’re not the only person who can prepare something for someone somewhere else.”

He tilted his head slightly to the right, but his face remained blank.

The time to take my shot had come. I bared my teeth and said, “I know about Vincent.”

His eyes bulged, but he tried to retain a stoic expression.

My muscles twitched, but I leaned back into the booth and crossed my legs. I adopted as relaxed a posture as I could.

The bustle of the restaurant and the sizzle of the kitchen filled the silence between us.

He clutched a metal fork atop the table.

“I have a warning,” I said. “If anything should befall me or anybody else from this point on, the world shall learn about Vincent.”

His grip on the fork remained firm, but his hand trembled.

I remained silent. By saying less, I appeared greater, stronger, and smarter. I left the depth of my knowledge open to interpretation.

I’m certain he was calculating what his best ploy was, though there was none. He had already confirmed Vincent’s involvement. Furthermore, his unwillingness to take decisive action suggested Vincent held a larger role in the proceedings.

Was Becca correct? I wondered as my rejection of Vincent being Ozonnole materialized again.

He withdrew the phone once more and pressed a single number. After a moment of waiting, he said, “We have a problem. She knows.”

Gotcha! I thought. He wasn’t in my league.

Wyatt held his phone out. “Boss wants to speak with you.”

I accepted it and placed it against my ear.

“You’re quite the clever girl!” Vincent said, his voice merry. “I must ask, how’d you crack the mystery?”

I wish I could’ve taunted him, but the cost of doing so far outweighed the fleeting satisfaction his reaction would supply. “Let’s concern ourselves with what I’ll do with this information instead.”

“I do find your knowledge concerning… Given that you haven’t done anything with it yet, you must have acquired it recently.”

My skin quivered – if he could deduce that much, he could identify the holes in my scheme.

“Not that it matters now,” he said. “If you won’t tell me how you figured it out, could you at least tell me what you’ll do with it?”

“Retract your support from Narcissa,” I said. “Retract it and depart from Bergmastand.”

“Ahh, blackmail! Classic! Sensible! After all, without me, she’s nothing. I’m sure you would’ve beaten her by now. She would’ve fallen prey to the con you came up with back with the train. Which, as an aside, brilliant work, loved what you had going there. I’m into locked room mysteries too.”

“Are you going to yield or not?”

“Oh, right, the question! No. No, no, no, no, no. No.”

My body tensed as I wondered what he’d do.

“Against Narcissa,” he said, “you would’ve won by now. But it’s going to take much more to beat me. I’m sure you’ve heard of a dead man’s switch.”

My stomach sank as I pieced together what he had in mind.

“If I go down,” Vincent said, his voice businesslike, “I’m taking as many people with me as possible. I will burn everything on my way out. As for how, well, I’ll leave it to your imagination. You know who I am, after all. You know what I have. If you decide to leave me alone, I’ll leave the world alone. Our game ends here, in a stalemate.”

Something hot scurried through me.

I couldn’t allow him to elude justice. He had to pay! He had to suffer! Suffer like those he harmed suffered!

But…

I couldn’t accept collateral damage either. Especially if it cost people their lives.

Find a third option! a part of me demanded. It’s what I did! I was supposed to conquer him, not compromise!

And yet… nothing came to mind.

My tactical sense told me to regroup and reassess for later. Though before I did, it seemed wisest to gather some more information. “Why do you wish to remain at Narcissa’s side?”

“How did you figure everything out?”

You told me! I thought, but I kept my jaw locked.

“If you won’t answer my questions,” he said, “I’m not answering yours. Fair’s fair. Regardless, do you accept my terms or not? If not, please hurry. I’d like to know if I can finish watching my shows tonight or not.”

I pictured his throat as my clutch around the phone tightened. It’s all I could do. The costs of bringing him down outweighed the benefits. Protecting people came first.

I forced out the words, “I agree.”