Phillip Bladen, my husband, is an evil man. You must sever all ties to him, and protect yourself and those you love from him as well. He is not your father. Cordell Ryker is your dad and the man I fell in love with. But it was too late. I was already married to Phillip.
I did not choose to marry him; I was forced to. My marriage to Phillip was an obligation your grandfather owed to the secret organization he belonged to. Had I refused, he would have been killed, which happened anyway. I wish—well, never mind. The time for empty wishes is long gone.
My father and husband belong to a secret group, which is known as the Omni World Order. It has existed for many centuries across most continents under different names. When I was a teenager, the different groups were renewing and formalizing their structures, reconnecting with each other, growing in power.
They aren’t like a religious sect that wants its philosophy to rule all others. Their unifying belief is far simpler. They want power. Period. Power begets power. Many of the world’s richest people belong to the organization and many of the world’s ruling families are actors for the OWO. It has its tendrils everywhere.
I learned this from papers I discovered in Phillip’s office. He was, apparently, a librarian of some sort for the organization. I took the papers—boxes of them—one day while he was away. I stored them in a vault at a storage facility in Denver. I paid for the use of that vault for fifty years, and left them with instructions about what to do should the prepayment expire or should the vault’s contents need to be moved. I’ve included the information you need to access that vault.
Take the papers, but know that I fear they’re cursed. If you’re reading this note, then I will have paid with my life to secure these papers from the OWO. I beg your forgiveness for what that has meant for your life.
Ty, it falls to you to finish what I started. Bring these papers out to the wider public. The OWO cannot be allowed to exist.
Be strong, my son. Be fierce. Be brave. Be kind.
Please try to find your father. Cordell is an honorable man. Find him. Give him my love. He will help you.
Your loving mother,
Catherine Holt Bladen
Ty slumped back against one of the columns of drawers in his closet. He read the letter two more times, then set it aside and put the jewelry box back together. He put the jewelry in the box and set the whole thing in the safe. When he came out of the closet, the sky was beginning to brighten.
Eden was sleeping so peacefully—as much as he wanted to shout out about his discovery, he also didn’t want to wake her. Kit was out with the team down in Denver. Greer was on duty in the bunker, but everyone else was asleep. There was one person, though, he could wake and share it with.
His dad.
Ty dressed, then stopped long enough to see if the storage company was still in business and still located where it was when his mom took a unit. It was.
He drove over to Mandy’s place and parked in front of Ryker’s bunkhouse. The little house was dark; this was his dad’s day off from the diner, so he was probably sleeping in. Ty knocked on the door then tried the handle. It was locked.
A light came on inside the kitchen, then the door swung open. His dad stood there, looking rumpled and irritated. Ty couldn’t help but wonder, for the millionth time, what his life would have been like if he and his mom and dad had been able to live together as a family. Maybe he would have had a whole bunch of siblings. Maybe he would have never had to fear or fight for survival.
And maybe fairies farted pink rainbows.
Either reality was as out of reach as the other.
“We gonna stand here and stare at each other? Or are you comin’ in?” His dad’s voice rumbled into the quiet morning.
Ty stepped into the kitchen. “I found something.” He looked at Ryker. “A letter from Mom. It was in her jewelry box.”
His dad frowned. He went into the other room to fetch his glasses, then came back and took the letter. When he finished reading it, there were tears in his eyes. He set his hands on his hips and hung his head for a long minute, then looked up at Ty. “Let’s go get those boxes. You think they’re still there?”
“Don’t know, but I’m feeling a sense of urgency. Go get dressed. I need to show this to Owen. I can’t go, Dad, so I’m sending you down for them.”
The importance of that errand didn’t escape Ryker. He met Ty’s eyes then nodded.
“I should be able to get one of the guys to ride shotgun with you. Don’t want you to go alone.”
Ryker was already heading into his room to dress, but he stopped in the hallway and looked back. “Sounds good. I want to see what’s in those boxes, boy.”
“I’d like that. Come over to the house when you’re ready.”
*
With Kit in Denver, Ty had to take this directly to Owen. He knocked once. Owen came to the door, wearing his loose cotton pajama bottoms. “Blade.”
Ty handed him the letter. Owen stepped out into the sitting room outside his bedroom and closed the door to his room.
“What is this?”
“A note from my mom. Found it in her jewelry box.”
Owen turned a light on and read it. He looked at Ty. “This place still in business?”
“Yeah. I checked.”
“We’re spread pretty thin. May have to wait retrieving the boxes.”
“I got a bad feeling about leaving them there. My dad can go for them while I stay with Rocco.”
Owen looked at Ty. He nodded. “Send Max with him. We could use an inside scoop right about now.”
Ty nodded. “On it.”
Chapter Twelve