Chapter 85
Hall rattled off Lucy's name, a few of her usual clubs, and her apartment address with a clipped, frantic energy.
"The sooner, the better. Tonight or tomorrow, ideally."
"Understood. Same as always—half the deposit now, the rest upon completion." The voice on the other end was flat and professional before the line went dead.
Hall tossed the burner phone aside, his eyes glinting with the desperate resolve of a man cornered.
'Don't blame me, Lucy,' he thought, a venomous bitterness rising in his throat.
Blame yourself for being a fool. For pissing off people you should have never crossed.
And blame the real Mr. Smith and that fiancée of his who had appeared out of nowhere.
Smith Manor
Elizabeth was absorbed in the latest report from Nightfall, her eyes scanning the details of a new vulnerability discovered in Charles's financial chain. A soft knock at the door pulled her from her focus.
"Come in."
Lynx slipped into the room as silently as a shadow, closing the door behind her with a barely audible click. She leaned in, her voice a low murmur. "I've just received an urgent assignment. The client's timeline is tight, so I'll need to leave for a bit."
Elizabeth looked up from the documents spread across her desk. "An assassination?"
Lynx paused for a fraction of a second, her gaze meeting Elizabeth's. "Yes. Based on current personnel locations, I'm the closest operative to the target and the most logical choice for execution."
Elizabeth's fingers traced the sharp edge of the report, a thoughtless, repetitive motion.
It had been a while since she had directly engaged with Nightfall's regular operations, not since the directive she had issued for Henry.
She was acutely aware of what Lynx's departure signified: someone was about to die.
But Nightfall had its protocols, and in assuming the mantle of Noel, she had also inherited its responsibilities. Emotion had no place here.
"You're leaving now?" Elizabeth glanced at the clock; it was nearly midnight. "Alone? At this hour? Is that wise?"
A fleeting, almost imperceptible smile, tinged with something like weary amusement, touched Lynx's habitually stoic face.
She said nothing, but simply raised a hand, casually tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
As she did, Elizabeth's eyes followed the movement, catching a glint of something unnatural.
A black metal needle, as fine as a human hair, had materialized between Lynx's fingers, its tip glowing with a cold, blue light under the lamplight. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, a trick of the eye.
In the next instant, with a slight shift of her weight, Lynx glided from the doorway to the bookshelf beside Elizabeth. The movement was utterly soundless, her clothes not even rustling to betray the motion.
Elizabeth was left speechless.
Of course. How could she have mistaken Lynx for an ordinary young woman, someone who needed to worry about her safety walking alone at night?
To become one of the four core members of the organization Hughes had built, to earn the codename Lynx, required far more than a pretty face and a talent for disguise. She was, in herself, a poisoned blade, perfectly at home in the shadows.
"I was being overcautious," Elizabeth said, a knowing smile finally gracing her lips as she let go of the unnecessary concern. "Go. Be careful, and keep it clean. Contact me if anything comes up."
"Yes." Lynx nodded, her expression returning to its usual placid state.
She gave a slight, formal bow, then turned and opened the door. Her form melted into the darkened hallway like a drop of ink into the night, vanishing as if she had never been there at all.
But Smith Manor was threaded with modern surveillance, and it was not long before Tina received an alert signaling Lynx's departure.
What was she doing leaving alone so late?
As a consummate professional, Tina immediately deduced that the maid was likely acting on Elizabeth's orders. She picked up the internal phone and dialed the direct line to Jacob's study.
"Mr. Smith, Ms. Windsor's attendant, Erin, has just left the manor alone. She did not take a car and is proceeding on foot toward the path leading into the eastern woods," Tina reported, her voice stripped of all personal inflection, a sterile statement of fact.
While Mr. Smith's attitude toward Elizabeth had shifted recently, the dynamics of a marriage were notoriously volatile. The woman he treated with suspicion today could easily be the treasure he cherished tomorrow.
Tina's role was simply to perform her duties with precision.
In the study, Jacob had just concluded a video conference with a mining director overseas. A weariness clung to him, but his eyes remained sharp. Upon hearing Tina's report, his gaze hardened instantly.
Erin? That was Elizabeth's woman. Alone, in the middle of the night, avoiding the main gate for a secluded path?
"Have her followed," Jacob commanded, his voice cold and devoid of hesitation. "I want to know where she goes, who she meets, and what she does. Do not lose her, and do not let her spot you."
"Yes." Tina acknowledged the order and immediately dispatched two of their best security men, specialists in tracking and covert surveillance, to follow the general direction Lynx had taken.
However, the codename Lynx was not an arbitrary one.
She had barely cleared the manor's perimeter before the finely honed instinct of a predator screamed that she was being followed. Her first impulse was to neutralize the threat, to turn on her pursuers.
But she suppressed it just as quickly. Considering her current identity, she immediately guessed the men belonged to Jacob.
He still didn't trust Ms. Windsor. He was already monitoring her staff.
Tonight's cleanup mission would have to be aborted.
To engage a target while being tailed was an unacceptable risk, one that could easily expose both herself and Nightfall.
Lynx's pace never faltered. She didn't glance back or make any other suspicious movements, but in that single instant of realization, she had already adjusted her route and speed.
The two men tailing her kept their distance, noting her confident stride and clear direction. She didn't seem like someone on her way to a clandestine meeting, which puzzled them.
She stopped at a 24-hour convenience store, went inside to buy a bottle of water, and then hailed a late-night taxi, giving the address for the Windsor Group headquarters.
The trackers immediately approached the store owner to rent his car; one look at their imposing figures and the man agreed without a second thought, not even daring to ask for payment.
They followed the taxi to the Windsor Group's monolithic tower, watching as Lynx used a keycard to enter the building. Approximately three minutes later, she emerged carrying a file folder stamped with the corporate logo. She hailed another cab and began the journey back toward Smith Manor.
The entire sequence had the mundane air of a diligent assistant fetching an important document her boss had forgotten at the office.
The trackers relayed their observations verbatim to Tina, who in turn reported them, word for word, to Jacob.
"Fetching a file?" Jacob's expression, far from relaxing, twisted into a cold, derisive sneer. "What document could she possibly have that is so important it requires Erin to retrieve it personally in the middle of the night?"
He rose from his chair and walked to the window, his gaze fixed on the darkness in the direction of Lynx's return. "This Erin… she's more than she seems. Our men were made."
So, what had Elizabeth truly sent her out to do? To meet someone? To pass a message? Or to handle some dirty business that couldn't see the light of day?
The thought that his father's death might be connected to the Windsor family cast an even deeper shadow over his heart.
Elizabeth, how many secrets were you and the people around you hiding?
Standing silently to the side, Tina watched the hard, cold line of Jacob's profile and offered a gentle reminder. "Mr. Smith, it's getting very late. You have a meeting tomorrow with Mr. Scott from Italy to discuss the Moretti family's territory. You need your rest."
Sawyer Scott.
The name made Jacob's brow furrow even deeper.
A formidable Italian with a murky background and aggressive tactics, he had suddenly extended his reach into their territory, making overtures to both Jacob's old rival, Pacquiao, and the ever-ambitious Moretti family.
He was coming under the guise of partnership, but his true purpose was to test their defenses and seize ground.
Already burdened by the suspicions surrounding Elizabeth and his father's case, the addition of this troublesome new player soured his mood further, turning his agitation into a grim, simmering anger.
"I know," he said, his voice low as he waved a dismissive hand. "You may go."
Tina bowed and retreated from the room, leaving him once more to the silence of his study.