Chapter 865
“The Architect?” Skye frowned. “Dominic’s system?”
“The system the Four Families built,” the old man rasped. “Before the betrayal. Before the Syndicate corrupted it. The stones unlock the master control. But you need the map to find the entrance.”
“Where is the map?”
He pointed a bony finger at Parker, who was hovering by the door, devouring a stolen pudding cup like a starving man.
“Him,” the old man said.
Parker froze, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Me?”
“The vessel,” Grandpa Thorne nodded. “The Syndicate didn’t just kidnap him for leverage. They used him. They turned him into a biological compass.”
“I thought I escaped,” Parker whispered, letting the spoon drop.
Reco𝗆m𝘦𝗻𝘥 𝗴а𝘭ոо𝘷el𝘴.𝖼𝗼𝘮 𝘁o 𝘆𝗈𝗎𝗿 𝖿𝗿і𝖾n𝖽ѕ
“Did you?” Lucian asked from the corner, his voice dark. “Or did they let you go because you’re the only one who can lead us to the Hub?”
The room went silent.
Skye looked at Parker — really looked at him. The way he was standing. The slight glaze in his eyes. The way he had known the coordinates in the junkyard without hesitation.
“Parker,” Skye said slowly. “How did you get out of the Nevada facility?”
“I crawled through a vent,” Parker said. “I hot-wired a truck.”
“Parker.” Skye stepped closer. “You don’t know how to hot-wire a truck. You call AAA when you get a flat tire.”
Parker blinked. His face crumpled in confusion. “I… I don’t remember. I just woke up in the truck.”
“He’s a sleeper,” Alistair said, drawing his weapon. “They planted something in him.”
“No!” Skye jumped between Alistair and Parker. “Don’t shoot him!”
“He’s a Trojan Horse, Skye!”
Parker grabbed his head without warning. He screamed — a sound of pure agony — and dropped to his knees.
“Get back!” Lucian yelled.
Parker’s eyes rolled back. When they opened again, the pupils were fully dilated, swallowing the iris. He spoke, but the voice that came out wasn’t his. It was mechanical. Cold.
“Access granted. Beacon activated. Coordinates transmitting.”
“He’s broadcasting our location!” Felix shouted, checking his scanner. “The signal is spiking — he’s pinging a satellite network. They’re coming!”
“We need to move him,” Skye grabbed Parker’s arm. “We need a Faraday cage to block the signal. Now!”
“The bank vault?” Alistair suggested.
“Too far,” Skye said. “The wine cellar at the Vance Estate. Julian lined it with lead and copper mesh during the first cyber-war. It’s a dead zone.”
“Go!” Alistair ordered. “I’ll cover the retreat.”
They dragged a screaming, convulsing Parker out of the nursing home just as the thumping of rotor blades echoed in the distance.
The drive back to the Vance Estate was a race against death. Black helicopters tracked them along the highway, searchlights sweeping the asphalt in wide, hunting arcs, homing in on the signal Parker was emitting.
Inside the SUV, Parker was restrained with zip-ties, thrashing against the seat.
“It hurts!” Parker sobbed, his own voice breaking through the conditioning. “Get it out of my head — it’s burning!”