Page 99 of Twilight Tactics

A door opened and closed, then footsteps at the end of the hall alerted her to the fact she wasn’t alone anymore.

“Let me out!” A young voice from one of the other cells froze her. “Let me out! I’m sorry! I’ll be good!” It sounded like a teen. About her age when she’d first been punished with this isolation technique.

Her heart squeezed and her breath came quicker. No. She couldn’t have a panic attack. Not now.

“Welcome home, Eleanor.”

The voice from the doorway snapped her head up. And the panic was gone. In its place burned a deep, simmering rage—at his betrayal and her own stupid, gullible self for not being more suspicious. Considering her past and her mother’s warnings, she should have been more on guard. She blinked and hoped the fury wasn’t displayed on her face.

Her father stood there, looking the same as he had a couple of hours ago. She assumed it was hours. “How long have I been in here?”

“Not long.” He sighed and looked away. There was something different in his posture—resignation, perhaps. Or shame. Regret?

“Why?”

He unlocked the door, stepped inside the cell, then shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry about...” He gestured vaguely at the cell. “This wasn’t what I wanted.” He rubbed a hand over his head.

“Then let me out.” Elena swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. She’d been such a fool. Walking straight into a trap because of a note and misplaced hope. No wonder her mother told her to stay away and never go back. But in the forest clearing, her father’s embrace had felt so genuine, so real, to be so ... not.

He glanced over his shoulder at the door down the hall like he was considering it.

“Dad? If you didn’t want this, then let me out before whoeverdidwant it comes.”

“She told me she wanted out, El, I swear she did. She said she wanted a real life and that we could do that with your help. She tricked me.”

“Who? Iris?”

Tears spilled out of his tired eyes and down his weathered cheeks. He looked much older than his fifty-seven years.

“Where’s Iris, Dad?” Her voice sounded low. Dull. Good, because she wanted to rant and throw a few defensive moves. But she was here now, albeit against her will, and she wasn’t leaving until she got some answers—or the chance to escape. “You said she wanted to see me.”

“She does.” He swiped his palms across his face and then let his gaze fall to the floor. “She’ll come. Soon.” He looked up. “She’s changed, El.” He swallowed. “I had no idea my choices would lead us here. I’m so sorry.” His voice had lowered to a whisper.

“What’s happening here? Who was that woman in the woods?” Why wouldn’t he tell her?

He moved to sit beside her on the cot, the springs creaking under his weight. He had the key in his pocket. She considered going after it, but he obviously had something to say, so she waited. “Things have changed since you left,” he said. “The community ... it’s not what it was.”

“Tell me.” Elena kept her voice gentle, though the rage bubbled beneath the surface.

“LaVoy came a couple of months ago. Said he could help us prepare better, offered resources, connections. Money ... and a lot of it.” He rubbed his calloused hands together. “Some of us didn’t trust him, but the council voted him in. Then his city friends came and money changed hands.”

Elena nodded, piecing together what she already suspected. Thanks to LaVoy, the mob had found a remote, self-sufficientcommunity perfect for their needs—people who avoided authorities and valued secrecy, and resources, above all else.

“And Iris? How is she involved?”

Before he could answer, a door opened again, footsteps sounded, and he went quiet. Elena’s breath caught. Standing in the doorway was a woman with her same dark hair and similar features, but harder, sharper somehow. Eyes that matched her own in color but lacked any warmth.

A key jangled in the lock, the door slid open, and Iris stepped into the cell, dressed in tactical black, a pistol holstered at her hip. “Well, look what the wind blew in.”

Their father stood, his shoulders hunched. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“Yes, Dad. We have catching up to do.” Iris’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Run along now.”

After he left, Iris paced in front of Elena like a predator. “Fourteen years. You look well. Soft, though. Life’s been good to you.”

Elena’s heart stuttered. She had no doubt who’d orchestrated her imprisonment. “I’ve missed you, Iris. Not a day went by—”

“Save it.” Iris cut her off with a slashing motion. “I don’t need your pretty lies.”