There was a pause, saturated with the questions Vivvie’s aunt was asking herself—Could she do this? Could she allow me to do this?
“I’m outside.” Priya’s words answered the question for both of us. “If you can get out of the house without anyone noticing, I can get you in to see Daniela.”
I pushed myself to my feet. I hung up the phone and dragged the back of my hand roughly over my mouth.
It was too late for Matt—but not for every other student held captive in my school.
Help me.
I would. If I had to die trying, so be it.
CHAPTER 59
I didn’t know how Priya had located the facility where Daniela Nicolae was being kept. I didn’t know what kind of favors she’d had to call in or who she’d had to kill—possibly literally—to get us in. All I knew was that we’d somehow successfully navigated both fingerprint and retinal scans, and the armed guards outside the door stepped aside when we arrived.
Inside the cell, a small woman sat with a hand resting protectively on her protruding stomach. Her dark hair was limp and lifeless, framing her face like a shadow.
Without moving her head, she shifted her eyes up toward Priya. “You, I expected,” she said, her voice rough from lack of use. “But I will admit to being surprised about the girl.”
Daniela Nicolae, the woman who’d infiltrated Walker Nolan’s life in the most intimate ways imaginable, didn’t move to get up from the bench on which she sat. She didn’t flinch when Priya took a step toward her.
“Your people have seized control of the Hardwicke School.”
Daniela’s head snapped back, as if Priya’s words had hit her with physical force.
“They’ve given us an ultimatum,” Priya continued. “Either we hand you over to them, or they start shooting students.”
They’ve already started, I thought, unable to stop myself from remembering Matt’s face in those last seconds.
Daniela’s left hand joined her right on her stomach. There was meaning woven into that gesture: she had a child to think about, too.
Whether that helps us or hurts us . . .
I needed to find out. “Could you give us a minute?” I asked Priya.
Vivvie’s aunt and the terrorist both turned the full force of their powerful stares on me.
“I was told I had to talk to Daniela alone,” I said.
With each second of silence that followed, I became more aware of the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be here. No matter what strings Priya had pulled, all it took was the wrong person discovering our presence, and I might find myself in a facility exactly like this one.
Twenty-seven minutes. We didn’t have time for complications, and we didn’t have the luxury of getting caught.
“You can’t get me out of here, can you?” Daniela pulled her gaze from my face and resumed studying Priya. “If you could, we’d already be on the move.”
Vivvie’s aunt returned the stare. “You aren’t leaving here without an executive order.” Priya’s tone gave no hint to the pressure we were under, but my mind went to what would happen if that executive order didn’t come through.
Twenty-six minutes.
“I need to talk to Daniela alone,” I repeated. I had to trust that Ivy would come through. She would secure Daniela’s release. She had to. And before that happened, before Daniela walked out of this room, I had to deliver the terrorists’ message.
And one of my own.
“Let the girl deliver her message,” Daniela told Priya. “She won’t come to any harm by my hand.”
Priya showed no signs whatsoever of moving.
I gave her a look. “She’s really pregnant,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I can take her.”
Priya snorted. “I am fairly certain you cannot.”
Nonetheless, after tossing another assessing gaze in Daniela’s direction, Priya turned to leave, telling us she’d be right outside. Clearly, Daniela was meant to take those words as a threat.
I waited until the door closed behind Priya before I considered what I was getting ready to say—and whether or not it was worth saying it at all. “Walker Nolan is not the president’s son.”
In all likelihood, that statement—and all the ones that followed—would mean nothing to Daniela. In all likelihood, what I had to say would have no effect on her at all.
“Georgia Nolan had an affair,” I continued, “with a man named William Keyes.”
It didn’t matter that this probably wouldn’t work. I had to take the chance that the interrogators were right, that Walker Nolan meant something to the woman in front of me.
“This is the message you were asked to deliver?” Daniela raised an eyebrow to aristocratic heights.
“No,” I said. “That’s not the message. I’m not telling you this for them. I’m telling you for me. Walker doesn’t know. The president doesn’t know.”
“But you know?” There was a clear note of challenge in Daniela’s voice.