The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) (40 page)

“Then we’ll what?” Lukas shouted angrily at the younger woman, causing her to go wide-eyed with fear as Lukas rounded on her, backing her up against the dark wall. “What the hell do you think I could possibly do? Should I just hand myself over, confess to treason, and kneel before a firing squad? They couldn’t care less about anything other than killing me—the one and only man who knows what’s really coming for them.”

“What is coming, sir?” one of his advisors asked.

“Men worse than me.” The group of advisors fell silent, glancing at one another uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. The elevator doors next to them opened, and Lukas and his entourage began their journey up into the White House.

Though Lukas had been mortified when the journal leaked online for the whole world to read, he had been truly furious with the fact that Rhys Howard—the one ally he hated most—had not been mentioned within its pages. Sue had stolen the journal a year before Rhys had become a Patriarch, leaving the man unnamed and unsuspecting in the eyes of the angry nation. Lukas was sure that any accusations he might have leveled against the Speaker would have been casually dismissed as a pathetic attempt by a traitorous liar to spread the blame around.

However, as his anger grew so did his humiliation with the fact that the world finally knew
him
for the man he truly was. His most personal and embarrassing moments had been unveiled; moments where he had pissed himself and moments when he wanted to put a bullet through his brain. America had discovered that her beloved leader was actually a malicious murderer, willing to kill those close to him if it furthered his agenda. He hated that the people of the United States no longer saw him as the man he had worked so hard to fabricate. However, as much as it infuriated him in the beginning, he had decided to embrace his new identity. If he couldn’t be loved, then he would do everything he could to be feared. They now knew what he was capable of, and he had no intentions of letting them down.

The elevator doors opened, and Maria stood there quietly, startled at the sight of him. Despite her look of alarm, Lukas couldn’t help but smile. Maria had remained by his side ever since he arrived back at the White House, refusing to stay apart for more than an hour at a time. She had stood by him faithfully over the past few months, standing up for him even when he began to clash with the Patriarchs. She had gone above ground earlier that day attending to a meeting with the press secretary, and had phoned Lukas afterwards, telling him that he was needed upstairs.

“What’s wrong?” As Lukas spoke, those around him quickly departed. His advisors had discovered the hard way that any discussions with his wife were for him and him alone.

“We need to talk,” Maria responded.

“Is it about Fort Bragg?”

“No,” she replied as she eyed the advisors walking away. “We can’t talk here.”

“Okay, where?”

“The Oval Office.”

“Very well,” he said. “Lead the way.”

They walked silently toward the West Wing of the White House, passing by memories of the famous presidents who had come before him. Each statue and painting portrayed men that had risen to the apex of American success and fought for the country they served. Some had been loved, others had been hated, and even a few had lost their lives to the bullet of a ruthless assassin. As different as each and every commander-in-chief had been, they had all acted on what they believed to be right for the United States. Though the majority of them were now gone—nothing more than bronzed relics gathering dust in the hallways they once walked—Lukas couldn’t help but feel their eyes . . . those ever-watchful eyes that appeared to follow him as he walked, judging him into a state of anxiety as he disregarded the haunting words they silently whispered to their lost brother.

What have you done?

Lukas did his best to shut their silent cries out of his head before he and Maria arrived at the Oval Office. Maria stopped just short of the door and turned back to her husband.

“Alone,” she said glancing at the drones overhead. “You don’t know who could be watching.”

After a pause, Lukas nodded and spoke a command for them to remain behind. Maria opened the door to the dark room and they walked in.

“So do you mind telling me why. . . .”

His words trailed off as he entered the room. Rhys Howard sat behind the Resolute Desk, reclining arrogantly with his hands behind his head and his feet propped up on the aged wooden surface. Sūn Vetrov closed the door behind Lukas and stood defiantly in front of it with his arms across his chest. Jacob sat alone on one of the couches in the middle of the room while Sigmund, the one man Lukas feared above all others, leaned against the wall next to a bust of Abraham Lincoln.

“Hello, my old friend,” Sigmund said. “It is good to finally see you again.”

Fury filled Lukas’ eyes as he looked over at his wife. She returned his hurtful gaze for a few seconds before lowering her eyes to the floor. In that moment, with a thousand thoughts of anger and fear racing through his mind, one question stood out above the rest. He wondered what would prove to be more painful: her betrayal or whatever it was Sigmund was about to do to him. After a few more seconds had passed, Lukas tore his eyes away from her and walked forward.

“Have a seat, Mr. President,” Rhys said with a devilish grin. “You must be tired from all your hard work.”

“Get your feet off my desk,” Lukas said angrily.

“Soon to be my desk,” Rhys said. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the vice president is dead. I’m sure you know what that means.”

Lukas had never cared much for the vice president. He had chosen the man simply because he knew he would leave him alone when he needed it. His death meant that Rhys, the Speaker of the House, was next in line for the presidency. The man’s arrogant aura and his belief that the desk was soon to be his, told Lukas everything he needed to know.

“You get ahead of yourself, Mr. Howard,” Sigmund said casually. “You make it sound as though we mean to remove Lukas completely from our company.”

“Do you not?” Lukas said with a dispirited chuckle. He was scared, but he tried to mask that fear. Any sign of weakness would get him nowhere with the devils that encircled him. “So who gets the honor of doing the deed? You, Jacob? The only father I ever really cared for? Or you, Rhys? Perhaps you can finally have what you have sought for so long? Or maybe you, Maria, my lovely and ever-faithful wife? I had thought us to be inseparable until the end. Oh how wrong I was. Well do what you will, but know that I will not go quietly and that my drones outside will show no mercy.”

“Is that so?” Sigmund said. “Well, then it might please you to learn that there will be no killing here today. You have my word on that, if it even means anything to you anymore. However, I am curious. Since when did these drones of yours learn to open doors? Actually, I guess the real question is why do you continue to think they are
your
drones?”

“So what is this then? A plea to regain my allegiance?”

“Was it ever lost?” Sigmund replied as he began to slowly circle the room. “Despite your recent failures, I suppose I must ask if you think we remain allies.”

“What happened was not my fault. I knew you’d come for me afterward, and I did what I had to do to survive. However, I do believe whatever complications we have with one another can be amended.”

“Really,” Rhys said. “And what . . . complications might you have with us?”

“Oh don’t give me that shit.” Lukas shouted. “You have been against me for years. I have only ever served the Patriarchs.”

“Is that a fact?” Sigmund asked calmly. “I would not say your recent actions to hinder what we have worked so hard for prove your statement true.”

“You left me with no choice!”

“So you
do
admit to acting out against us?” Rhys asked. “Do you honestly believe everything that’s happened was not entirely your fault? I’m beginning to wonder if you ever believed in our cause.”

“You know I did!” Lukas shot back. “Had you listened to what I said in the beginning and let me kill Adam Reinhart quietly, then none of this—”

A sharp pain, followed by the hiss of escaping gasses, stung the back of his neck. Lukas cursed and stood up quickly—reaching for the wound. He pulled his hand back and saw the tiniest smear of blood on his palm. He spun around as fear set in and looked into the eyes of a smiling Sigmund—knowing all the while what was about to come next.

“You . . . bastard!”

“Forgive me,” Sigmund said, “but your words and empty promises mean little to me anymore. By your actions and ignorance you nearly destroyed what took decades to build. We tried to help you, Lukas. We tried to guide you, but you refused to listen. It is I who has been left with no choice. Trusting you was the greatest mistake I ever made. I needed to find a way to ensure your loyalty never wavers again. And this . . .” Sigmund raised a small polished cylinder with a glowing blue button, stretching his thumb out over the top as he smiled back at Lukas. “This is the only way I saw fit to control you, our little unwanted accident.”

Lukas roared with rage and lunged over the couch at Sigmund. As his feet left the floor, he watched as the blue button was pressed down, and the world around him decelerated to an agonizing crawl. Fire and ice filled his veins as he began a painfully slow slither through air that had changed into an acidic jelly. He tried to scream out in his anguish, but the wind left his lungs at an excruciatingly slow rate. He tumbled through the air for what felt like hours as the blazing inferno continued to consume every part of his soul. He was barely aware of much of anything by the time the world lurched back to its normal speed.

The fire that had raged through every single pore in his body quickly dissipated and he found himself on the floor—thrashing about on the polished wood. His breath came in ragged gulps as he struggled to suppress the memory of that which had consumed him. As he convulsed—his body racked by wave after wave of shock—he slowly became aware of the man that crouched beside him.

“Thirty seconds,” Sigmund whispered. “Half a minute to us. Hours, I presume, to you. I wanted to give you a taste of what awaits you so I could show you who I really am. So tell me, my old friend. Who am I really?”

“Sigmund . . . please don’t. . . .”             

“I’ll ask again,” Sigmund said through clenched teeth. “Who am I, Lukas?”

“You are Sigmund.”

“No.” Sigmund bent down close, grabbed Lukas by the hair, and pulled his limp head up so that the Lukas could stare into eyes of his new enemy.

“I am your god! In my hand, I hold your life. Defy me again, or disobey whatever I wish of my most humble servant, and know that there is nowhere you can run in this world that will be out of my reach. With the push of this button, I will cast you back into the lake of fire for the rest of your meaningless life. If you raise a hand against me again, then know that you will bathe in pain like nothing anyone has felt before. I will keep your body alive so that you may know eternity. Does my humbled servant now understand?”

“Yes, Sigmund,” Lukas mumbled.

“Yes, my lord!” Sigmund shouted. “You are never to call me Sigmund again.”

Lukas shook, and he began to cry, realizing that all hope was gone. Fate had cast him out. He had devoted his life to climbing the chain of power. He had risen from obscurity to the most powerful man in the world, all while believing that he had truly become a man above reproach. Now, it seemed, he found himself one link below an enemy that now held his excruciating forever in the palm of his hands.

“Yes my lord,” he muttered.

“Good,” Sigmund said with a happy laugh before holding the small device out again. “It would benefit you to know that each one of us possesses one of these. Anger any one of us, and know we will not hesitate to trigger your misery. Now, would my precious little servant pick himself up off the floor so that he can hear what his god would wish of him?”

Lukas rose gingerly, waiting for the pain emanating from his burns to return. However, the hurt had disappeared almost completely, leaving nothing more than the memory and knowledge of what was waiting for him should he disobey his new lord. He walked slowly over to the couch, glancing over at the others as he did so. Rhys and Sūn were smiling at their defeated comrade. Jacob looked back at Lukas with a stare of disapproval, while Maria—the woman who had led him to his own personal hell—met his eyes as her lower lip quivered. He realized in that moment that before he took his own life, he would get his revenge and take her with him.

As though he could read Lukas’ thoughts, Sigmund cleared his throat and spoke. “I must first tell you that suicide is not an option for you. Your drones will be allowed to follow you again once we leave. However, they have been modified and no longer carry their usual lethal rounds. Please understand that they will continue to protect you, even from yourself. Should you try to take your own life or have someone else do it for you, they will know it, and they will use their tranquilizers to stop you. We will watch every move you make, and should you try to kill yourself before I am done with you, know that I will set a timer for five minutes and press my glowing sphere of pain. Is that understood?”

“Yes Si—I mean . . . yes my lord.”

“Very good! It appears we can teach an old dog new tricks. A dog . . . yes, a mangy little mutt. My own little presidential pet. I believe I would like you to refer to yourself as such in my company. It will hopefully teach you humility when dealing with me, the lord of your fate. And who knows? With time, you may make it through life relatively intact.” Sigmund turned to Rhys. “Now, tell our dog what he is to do next.”