It was a nice room. Long and rectangular with a large dark wooden table that ran almost the entire span of the room. Chairs were littered around the table at evenly-spaced intervals. Three of the walls were painted deep crimson red. The fourth was formed entirely of windows and looked out of Bristol. On the other side of the room opposite from where we entered, I could see a large ornate door. Behind this, I assumed, was Max patiently waiting for the moment we would need his assistance.

It was the sort of room I could envision a super top-secret terrorist group having meetings in. There was just a dark, somber atmosphere about the room. There wasn't anything specific about it. All I knew was that the moment I crossed the threshold from the hallway into the room, a chill ran up my spine.

Two men stood on the opposite side of the room from where Patrick and I entered. They were both dressed in fine suits with expensive looking shoes. One was larger, tall and plump, with a receding hairline and small beady eyes that looked out of place on his wide face. The other was thinner, not quite scrawny for I was certain that there was sinewy muscle hidden beneath the folds of his clothing, but that was the appearance. His face was angular and unkind. The eyes were dark and narrowed and just slightly too far apart. His nose was sharp and beak-like.

I disliked him immediately.

Patrick shut the door behind us, kicking it closed with his foot. The two men were watching us with rapt attention. Neither said anything but I noticed their eyes flit down to our guns. The larger man seemed oddly disconcerted. I watched as sweat began to bead on his forehead.

The other man just cocked his head to the side and smiled as he stared at us in what I could only describe as a look that was a mixture of contempt and humour. I knew immediately that I was looking into the face of Randall Walker.

"Well," he said. His voice wasn't as I expected it to be. I'd been waiting for dark and sinister. His was nasally and high. "Miss Briar. We meet at last."

"You know who I am." Not a question. Just an observation.

Beside me, Patrick raised his gun. I saw it out the corner of my eye. He had it trained not on Walker, but on the other man. My gun; however, was focused dead-centre on Walker's chest.

"Of course. You're the spitting image of your mother. Did you know that?"

My fingers twitched on my gun. "I did, as a matter of fact.

Walker made a little sound in the back of his throat. "Humph. I assume your father told you? After you broke him out of my prison of course. Excellent feat, by the way. Few people have ever attempted such a thing. Far fewer actually succeeded. I was very impressed."

I wasn't surprised that he knew about the breakout. "I've got to be honest. Never thought I'd impress the leader of a terrorist organization. It was never really something on my bucket list."

"Well, I was impressed. You've got quite a talent, Miss Briar. You're more skilled than even Jack was at your age. I should know. I knew him the best out of everyone. I'm sure he told you that we were friends." Walker's dark eyes narrowed on me and his thin lips quirked into a sinister smile.

"Jack told me a lot of things. Like how you ordered the hits on my mother and aunt and uncle. And I already know that you kidnapped my brother."

I could feel Patrick still beside me in shock. This was his first time hearing the information I'd withheld. My true last name. The deaths of my parents and biological mother. The kidnapping of my brother.

I was certain that he had a million questions. I still wasn't sure that I could trust him. But right now, whether I wanted him to know or not, he would find out the truth. Henri, too, who was connected to us via the communications units, would also be hearing this story for the first time.

Walker pulled out a chair and sat down. The large man beside him looked down nervously. "Did Jack tell you that I was the one who murdered your mother?" Walker leaned forwards onto his elbows. "Did he ever learn that I was the one who actually did it?"

My silence seemed to be answer enough for him as his dark smile widened.

"Ah. That's a 'no' then. Yes, I killed Elizabeth. I have to give that bitch credit though. She only screamed at the end." Walker winked at me as if I was a coconspirator to his torturous little game. "I shouldn't have killed her as quickly as I did. If I'd been smarter, I would have used her as leverage against your father. Killing her only made him stronger. He had nothing left to lose after her. Except you of course. But he had you hidden well. Not well enough though, it seems. Otherwise, you wouldn't be standing here in front of me right now."

"You say that as if you were expecting me to come." I could feel a nerve jumping in my jaw. Patrick was as still as a statue next to me.

Walker raised a shoulder in a one-armed shrug. "I must admit that I'm not surprised by your presence as I'm sure you were hoping I would be. I assume you're here for that brother of yours?"

"You assume correctly."

"And if I don't bring him to you, you'll shoot me?" A wry smile replaced the sinister grin. His eyes stayed dark and untrustworthy as they flicked down to the gun.

"That's right."

"What makes you think he's here? If I recall correctly, we were supposed to meet you in Moscow in just a few short days with him. He could be anywhere in the world."

I stared at him, steady and calm. "If my brother isn't in this room within the next two minutes, you won't be walking out of here alive."

Walker's expression sparked and there was a brief flash of hatred in his eyes. "Neither would you. My men would kill you before you hit the door."

"That's where you're wrong," I said.

"Tell me."

"My life is more valuable than yours."

He raised an eyebrow and laughed sardonically. "I highly doubt that."

I smiled, attempting to give off the illusion of being strong and aloof. "Oh, but it is. If you die, Scorpion will just replace you. Sure, you're the head of the European branch. It'll be a hassle and a headache but they'll do it. Now, if I die, Scorpion lose its hold on Jack Briar and all of his information, including the location of where Alexi Vavilov's research is hidden. He's the only one who knows where it is and if your men kill me, Scorpion loses its leverage and you know that he'll never tell anyone where it is. So, you tell me. Whose life is more important, Randall?"

There was a long pause. Everyone in the room stared at me. Walker's colleague looked terrified. I was beginning to think that he was a lower ranked employee. He didn't seem to be at all comfortable around firearms or threats. The sweat that had started on the top of his head had begun to migrate, flowing in a gentle stream down the side of his head.

Finally, Walker held his hands out and stood up. I kept my gun trained on him as he walked over to a briefcase that was resting on the far end of the table. He opened it up, pulled out a sleek cellphone, and pressed a single button as he held it up to his ear.

"Bring in the boy. Now."

"If anyone else aside from my brother sets so much as a toe inside of this room, I will shoot you," I said with hostility.

Inside, I was terrified. This week, I'd gotten more field experience than most agents would see in a half a year. Add to that fact that I'd graduated only a few weeks ago and I felt like a little kid playing grown up. It was as if I were a Chihuahua challenging a Rottweiler for dominance.

I wasn't bluffing. If anyone else aside from Wes came entered this room, Walker would be exiting with a bullet wound. I just wasn't entirely sure how long I'd be able to hold off Scorpion's forces for after he was dead.

We had a plan in place to get out of here, but it involved us being able to get to the roof where Henri would pick us up via helicopter. Once it seemed that we needed to make our escape, he would be on his way over while continuously running the Op from the chopper. Given the fact though that we were on the seventeenth floor in a building that had exactly forty-four floors, all of us getting to the roof alive could be a major issue.

The ornate door on the other side of the room. I held my breath, expecting to see Wes walk through the door, but it was only Max. He had his gun drawn, held low and ready. His steady blue eyes flicked to me and he nodded once.

Walker looked to him with disinterest. His colleague's breath hitched. He didn't look pleased at the fact that another firearm had come into play.

"A friend of yours, I gather?" Walker said to me in an aside. "I really must hire better security."

Slowly, Max walked so that he was standing behind Walker and the other man. He kept his gun trained on Walker but I knew that his reflexes were so deadly fast that it really didn't matter where his gun was. The moment a new threat arose Max's weapon would be on them before they could utter so much as a single syllable.

For a very long minute, the room was locked in tension. Walker stared at me and I stared back at him. He was wearing a smug smile, as if he was privy to some sort of joke that he didn't want to let me in on quite yet. Patrick didn't waver his focus from the larger man. Max kept his attention firmly on the situation at hand. There was a look of sheer concentration on his face.

Then, the door through which Max had entered opened once more.

"Send only the boy in. If anyone else steps so much as a toe over the threshold they will have me to answer to," Walker hissed.

I moved so that I was invisible to the people on the other side of the door but so that I could see them. Walker's head stayed firmly in my cross sights. I could just barely make out the form of a few burly men before someone crossed into the room and the door was firmly shut.

I didn't know what I was expecting. A sallow sunken face and an emaciated body? Someone riddled with cuts and bruises and clearly having gone extensive torture for the past week and a bit? A person who was very clearly in pain and near-death?

This was not what I got.

Wes crossed into the room, standing tall and strong. His azure blue eyes flicked to me in shock and I saw an odd emotion flick across his face but it was gone before I could figure out what it was. His hair was still the foreign dark brown from when we'd died before I'd sent him and Daniel on their way to Canada from Oregon.

He wasn't dressed as finely as Walker but neither was he in the torn rags I'd been imaging in my head. Instead, he was wearing a white shirt and pressed black pants with shiny black shoes.

My brother looked healthy and fit. There was no indication that he'd been held captive for over a week. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that he was a student intern in this building. Perhaps that was the way that Walker had wanted things so that no one would question Wes if they saw him here with Walker.

"Wes." My voice came out weaker than I anticipated, a choked cry. "Are you alright?"

He hardly looked at me. His eyes were on Walker, as if asking the man if he were allowed to answer me. "Yes," he said at last and his eyes bored into mine. "What are you doing here, Melanie?"

There was something off about his tone. It was distant and cold and yet there was something there, some sort of warning or underlying emotion I couldn't quite decipher.

"I came for you."

Was it just me or did his eyes flick to Walker again? The older man was no longer looking at me. He had his attention firmly on Wes. His eyes were narrowed and it looked as if he was trying to tell Wes something without actually speaking.

"You shouldn't have," Wes said. The words seemed strained and forced.

"What are you talking about?"

Now, Walker looked at me. He was still smiling the grin that said he had some internal joke that he didn't want to tell me about. This time; however, it looked as if he were gearing up to tell me it.

"There's something we haven't yet told you, Miss Briar. Your brother here, the intelligent, capable man that he is, has decided to join our ranks. Once we told him about our mission here, he was quite intrigued and he agrees with us that the only way to manage the out-of-control global population is to use Vavilov's Virus."

I glanced away from Walker for just a moment. Wes was staring at me, hard. His gaze was insistent, eyes burning blue flames. He was leaning forwards slightly, onto the soles of his feet.

I turned back to Walker and said with a flat voice, "Is that so?"

He hummed. "Yes. Now, as it appears we are stuck at an impasse, I will tell you what I told him. And then I will offer you and your associates the same deal that I offered him."

"I'm listening."

Walker rose to his feet. He paced a few steps. Both my gun and Max's stayed trained on him. Wes and Patrick were still as statues.

"The world currently has seven-point-three billion people. By the year 2050, it is expected that this number will rise to nine-point-seven billion. Nearly ten billion mouths to feed. There is no feasible way to sustain that number of people. And so, it is only logical that this number is cut down.

"At Scorpion, we propose a solution to this problem. With Vavilov's work, we can link a lethal virus, one guaranteed to eliminate the host once it enters the blood stream, to a specific group of people. We can program it to dispose of the weak and useless members of our ever-growing society and allow the strong to survive and thrive.

"Our world," he continued, "is not meant to sustain ten billion people. We have no contingency in place for when our global population becomes too much. We won't make it to Mars or find another planet that can handle us. This is the final fight, Miss Briar. It will happen one way or another. Whether that day is today or in twenty years when we're nearing the tipping point, it will happen. You can either be a part of the solution to help save our planet or you can die today and be just one of many who have already fallen and will continue to fall while trying to stop the inevitable."

Walker stared at me with an air of superiority, as if he were absolutely certain as to what I would choose. His dark eyes were wide and victorious as he walked along the length of the table, his hands gliding against the wood. Max and Patrick were looking to me, searching for some form of guidance. Wes was still boring holes into the side of my head with his eyes.

"Seriously?" I asked. I cocked my head to the side. "That's your big speech? I've got to give you credit. At least you're not just trying to kill people for the hell of it like the bunch of sociopaths I thought you were. You've just proven to me that you're a group of psychopaths who think they have the right to play God and decide who gets to live and who gets to die. People have tried that before. They've never ended up on the right side of history."

"What'll your answer be, Miss Briar? I'm afraid I'm losing my patience."

"I thought I spelled it out clearly enough by insulting you but clearly not. The answer is no, Walker. No chance in hell."

He sighed as if he'd been expecting this. "Very well," he said. "Then I think I should tell you that you've overstayed your welcome."

And then he pressed a button on the underside of the table and the bomb underneath the chair on the side nearest the wall of windows went off, blowing out the glass and sending it down like sharp rain to the streets below. Thick plumes of smoke wafted through the room as tendrils of fire licked their way along the ceiling. Somewhere, a fire alarm started ringing, it's shrill pitch echoing throughout the building.

For just a moment, I was disoriented. My ears were ringing badly and I felt blood begin to etch down my face where debris from the bomb had hit. Then, stumbling, I made my way towards my brother. It was hard to see him through the smoke and I'd completely lost track of Walker and the other man. Max was nowhere to be seen. Patrick was a half-step behind me. I could feel his hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward.

"Wes!" A hoarse yell tore its way out of my throat.

Through my ringing ears, I heard a reply. "Mel!"

Finally, I found him. My fingers wrapped around his upper arm. I could see him through the haze. His face was covered in scratches and bomb residue but he seemed otherwise uninjured. Relief crashed through my chest.

"Go!" Patrick shouted. His voice sounded a hundred miles away even though his lips were only a few inches away from my ear. "Get out of here! I'll get Max."

"Pat—"

"Go, Melanie!"

I did. I pushed Wes ahead of me and scrambled for the door closest to us as Patrick disappeared back into the smoke. It was starting to thin as it poured out of the busted windows and into the sky. I risked a look over my shoulder, saw Max stumbling to his feet and the ornate door he'd entered through opening. A few men in dark suits entered, guns raised.

Wes disappeared into the hallway. I raised my gun at the same time Patrick did. The men fell, lethal red spots blooming on their chests. Max got to his feet and I followed my brother out.

"The roof," I said to him. "We have to get there now."

"This way. Elevators will be down but I know where the stairs are."

I didn't argue, instead letting him lead the way. We sprinted down the hallway, turned right and ran midway down the next one. Then, without pausing, he shoved a door open and threw himself inside. It was a cold, dimly lit stairwell formed from solid cement. Together, we began to go up the stairs, taking them by twos. It was a long way up to the roof. We had twenty-seven floors to climb to reach the roof plus an additional one from the forty-fourth floor to the roof itself.

Twenty-eight floors in enemy territory with a very pissed off leader probably sending all of his men out to try and kill me. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Henri we need you now," I said.

"On my way. Estimated arrival time is seven-and-a-half minutes." There was an odd edge to his voice but I didn't have time to analyze it. It could wait until we were officially out of here.

"Good."

Wes and I ran up the stairs, our breaths slowly turning labored and pained as we hit ten then fifteen floors of stairs.

"Max and I are heading for the roof. Walker's missing. We saw him get out of the room but we couldn't catch him. He's pissed, Mel," Patrick said through the comms.

"Great."

There was the sign for the thirty-eight floor. Thirty-nine. Forty.

"Mel, he made me...join them...He would have...killed me...I'm sorry..." Wes panted beside me.

I sucked in a breath as we turned sharply to head up another flight. Forty-two. "It's okay. I know...you would never."

And I did know. He was my brother. Fiercely loyal and stubborn as an ox but with the courage of a lion. Right to the very end, that was Wes. There was not a doubt in my mind that I could trust him. Not after everything.

Forty-four. And...there! The roof.

I shoved against the door, slamming it open. Henri was nowhere in sight yet but I could hear the sounds of a helicopter echoing across the city. "Come on," I muttered as I gasped for breath.

Wes was pulling on my arm. His face was red from exertion as he brought fresh oxygen back into his lungs. "You don't...understand. Walker was going to kill...Daniel and