When Solace was hysterical after almost being tortured, she could not quite recall the name of the place they were held in.

But with her mind clear and no torture in view (she was being highly optimistic), Solace stared up at the Bunker's Hill Monument, a sixty-two feet building on a crest of a hill, the color of eggshells and signifying the paramount battles between the British and Patriot forces during the American Revolution War.

The walk up the hill was a strenuous one, the snow creating an icy path. Albeit the numbing cold, they trekked to the entrance, Sage sending her glares sharp enough to cut. She had refused to stay in the car. Solace had come this far, working alongside him to obtain the painting. There was no way in hell she wouldn't follow him until the end of the journey. And an inkling of her wanted to see this boss of his. Sage had argued, a look on his face as if he wanted to tie her up with the seatbelt and leave her, but with only twenty-five minutes before midnight, he did not have the luxury of time.

The entrance of the monument was locked, but that was no issue for Sage. It opened with a click, and they stepped inside. From her time living in Boston, Solace never came to see the monument. Concrete steps swirled up the side to lead to the top, the inside drab and stale. Sage led her through the stuffy interior, coming face to face with another iron-wrought fence that disclosed a wooden pillar on top of a pedestal.

Sage handed her the red tube and swiftly picked the lock. He swung it open, the gate hair breadths away from smacking her in the face.

"Asshole," she hissed, stepping inside with him.

He scowled. "Should've stayed in the car," grumbled Sage.

"You don't tell me what to do," fired back Solace, squinting her eyes when Sage turned on the flashlight from his phone. The pillar sat on three layers of concrete and a pedestal, the inscribed words worn down from time.

Sage kept his eyes firmly on the pillar, feeling around the foundation for something. "You had no issue following orders when I kissed you back at the manor," he said gruffly.

She felt warm all of a sudden, the Boston cold ebbed by his comment. "That was an act," Solace defended, fully aware she was lying. It was so much more to her.

He hummed in satisfaction, and the pillar was pushed back on its hilt. "The way you kissed me could hardly be described as an act," mused Sage.

Solace was about to bite back a half-witted reply, the heat hay wiring her brain and its usual cleverness when the pedestal made a screeching sound. She stepped back from the sudden sound as it moved back, revealing a set of stairs. Darkness shrouded the path and her ability to see what was ahead. Solace watched with wide eyes, having never seen anything like this before.

Sage arched a brow. "After you," he said, almost challengingly.

She gritted her teeth and clutched the red tube close to her chest, stepping inside. Everything had faded into black, her own hands invisible before her. Solace walked slowly, heels echoing in the stairwell with Sage close behind.

"Do they not have working electricity?" she muttered, one hand scraping the sides of the concrete walls. It felt like sandpaper against the pad of her fingers.

"I do recall telling you to stay in the car," Sage grumbled.

"And I do recall telling you to shut up, but here we are," Solace fired back.

A string of Spanish curses floated in the air but was quickly shut down when light beamed from the end of the stairwell. Their steps became more frantic, and soon, they reached the end, squinting at the fluorescence. Stone floors and walls to match were the darkest shade of black, steel doors vaulted like a bank, handles imprinted with a fist encircled by a ring.

Sage jutted his head down the left corridor. "Stay close."

There was no one in sight, the holidays having left this odd business empty. She peered through the small windows providing a closer view into the secrets of this company. Some looked like training gyms, while others resembled the white room she was chained up in. Solace intended to get her answers tonight. She was not sure what kind of secret society this was, but her curiosity was bubbling over since the day Sage showed up at her footsteps.

The first and only person they saw was Kane leaning beside a mahogany two-door, tapping his steel-toed shoes impatiently. Her initial question was what he was doing here on New Year's Eve, but then, remembered it was Kane, a man whose only friends were two teenagers. He looked up when they approached.

"I did not think you would make it," Kane said solemnly. He wrinkled his nose but refused to acknowledge the smell. Solace had become accustomed to the scent.

Sage rolled his eyes. "Appreciate the faith, man." He exhaled deeply, shifting his eyes to the doors. "Is he in there?"

Kane nodded. Solace clutched the painting tighter, refusing to give it up unless she went in with him, but it seemed that the apathetic assassin had the same idea. "Boss wants to meet Solace," he explained.

Sage's jaw clenched. "That's not necessary. I don't want her there," he said firmly.

Solace was more uneasy, her desire to meet this boss dwindling.

The door creaked open. A voice, a powerful one at that, spoke. "I don't believe that's your decision to make, Mr. Reyes," he said.

Her breathing hitched, willing herself to look over. The man stood tall, a white dress shirt unbuttoned to hug his muscular frame. Tattoos covered every inch of his exposed skin save for his face, adding to his dangerous and reckless aura. A frown offsett his features.

Solace stilled when his gaze landed on her. "Solace Esther Laurent of Portland, Maine," he drawled, purposely using her full name and home city as if it was a tactic to scare her. He knew her government name and where she lived. What else did he know? "I'm Cesar Pérez. Lovely to make your acquaintance."

She stammered, attempting to force a fake 'you too' from her lips. Sage did not give her the chance when he stepped in front of her, sliding the painting from her hands. He gave her a reassuring look, telling her wordlessly he would keep her safe. He looked scared, simply a teenage boy.

"I have the painting. We can talk. Just the two of us," added Sage for good measure.

Cesar hummed, shaking his head. "I would like to meet our guest." He stepped aside, clearly putting the conversation to an end.

"It's okay," she whispered to Sage, moving around him until she was back in Cesar's line of sight. Solace refused to show fear to a man that relished in it. Chin raised, the words one step in front of the other echoing in her mind, and she entered the office. Her mind instantly went to look for exits, but there were no windows or extra doors, merely a fireplace, a desk, and an array of knives hanging like ornaments.

The door shut with a thud when Sage and Cesar stepped inside. Cesar sat on a leather chair near the fireplace, the flames flickering against his skin. He gestured to seat across from him. Solace and Sage scrambled to their seat, visibly on guard.

"What's that smell?" Cesar wondered, scrunching his face.

"You don't want to know," Sage muttered.

He shrugged, glancing at his undoubtedly expensive watch. "You're cutting it close," said Cesar, stretching his hand for the painting. Sage handed it to him quickly. "Only twenty minutes to spare."

"We made it. That's all that matters," Sage replied gruffly.

Cesar uncapped the tube, sliding out the Servus Autem Fortuna. "Indeed, you did." He examined it carefully, Solace heart thudding for no reason as she knew that he was holding the original. "I will know if this is a fake," Cesar announced, his tone all too light to obscure the warning.

"It's not," Solace said surely. "I made the fake that is currently sitting in Senator Samuel Moore's house."

Cesar curled the painting, standing up. He smirked. "How clever," he purred. Solace stiffened when he passed her, but Cesar merely opened his door and handed the painting to Kane. He reclaimed his seat, his ankle on his knee. "You must understand that I have to check. Trust does not come easily in this line of work. Please do not be offended."

Solace attempted a smile. "No offence taken," she assured. It was not every day that her painting could not be distinguished from a nineteen-century famous work of art.

"I'm glad to hear that, Solace Esther Laurent."

Sage drew the attention to himself. "I brought what you asked for. Am I free to leave the company for good?" he asked nervously.

Cesar nodded. "Your contract has been terminated. The code, after all, is the code."

Solace let out a relieved sigh, glancing over at Sage. He seemed lighter, the stress already beginning to dissipate from the liens on his face. He would finally be able to sleep a little better. "Great, then I guess we're good to go," announced Solace, but it seemed she may have been premature.

"What's the rush, Solace Esther Laurent? Stay awhile."

She fidgeted in her seat. "You –" Solace cleared her throat. "You don't have to say my full name."

Cesar shrugged, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He looked daunting in the firelight. "Why not? It's a rather lovely name." He seemed to relish in her distress. "You're a Scorpio, yes? I'm a Gemini."

Solace gulped nervously. This man knew too much, and she knew too little.

"Cesar, stop," snapped Sage. He was rigid in his seat, his knuckles turning white from clutching the arms of the chair too tightly.

He ignored him. Cesar's gaze never left Solace. "You live in a quaint white house. Although, I believe the correct shade is macaroon cream. It sits at the edge of a cul-de-sac, a donut shop not too far away." Blood drained from Solace's face. Her heart hammered rapidly with every word. "Your mother, Edmée, is a dental assistant, your father, Emmanuel, is a care aid, and your brother, Louis, is a freshman in high school. They're all in Montreal as we speak. But not to worry, they'll be back by tomorrow night."

"That's enough," Sage growled, promptly standing up. He grabbed Solace's hands. "We're leaving."

Bringing her family into this conversation was the last straw, but Solace struggled to find her anger. She was more terrified than anything. She could not move. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

Cesar raised a brow, casually lounging in his seat. "Doing what? I'm not doing anything," he said, a lilt to his voice. Suddenly, his expression darkened. "But I will if you ever speak about this organization."

"I don't even know what this organization exactly is," she exclaimed, hands sprawling in the air.

Cesar grinned devilishly. He changed expressions as fast as her heart sped. "We're called Iron Hand, a multi-faceted company that involves assassinations, black market deals, and drug trafficking amongst other illegal endeavors." He jumped to his feet, hands in his pockets, and leaned closed as if he was about to tell her a secret. Lowering his voice, he said, "Now, you know. And now, you are an abettor. An accessory. You are complicit in the crimes that take place here."

He did that on purpose. Solace said she wanted to know, said she wanted answers. And now she had them along with the weight that they came with. She had no intentions of outing Cesar in the first place, a secret she would take to her grave. But now, exposing this syndicate, exposing Iron Hand, would be impossible not unless she wanted it to blow up in her and Sage's faces. And of course, having her family murdered in their sleep. That was a great incentive to not snitch.

Sage repeatedly muttered apologies in her ear, his hand clutching hers. She was too busy drowning in the sound of her heart.

A phone beeped, and Cesar pulled out his phone. He read the screen. "Painting checks out. You're both free to go." He stepped around his desk, pouring himself a dark drink. He took a sip, smiling over the rim. "May your new year be filled with love or something ridiculous like that."

Sage quickly opened the door, leading her through the maze of this underground citadel. Solace did not take well with the threats, Cesar's warning swirling in her mind. As long as she stayed quiet, she would be fine. Her family would be fine.

And she needed to look on the brighter side of things. Sage was out, officially done. He was free to go home. She could keep her promise to him.

The winter cold was welcomed when they stepped outside.

Sage let go of her hand, facing her amid the snow and glittering city lights. "I didn't mean to get you involved like that, Solace. Please, believe that."

She shook her hand, halting his apologies. "I got myself into this, okay? I don't blame you," promised Solace. "Focus on how you're free, Sage. You can go be with your family."

Sage almost looked shocked as if he didn't even realize. He was so caught up in her, he had almost forgotten. A smile so bright lit up his face, his eyes beginning to tear. Solace was jolted by his weight when he threw his arms around her, enveloping her in a hug. He began to shake.

"It's been a long few months," choked out Sage, tears spilling down the side of her neck.

Solace ran her hands down his back. She had never seen him cry before. Merely remnants of it. "You're okay. Everything is going to be okay," she promised.

He hugged her tighter. "Thank you. I never would have made it without you."

"I know," she joked, smiling at how his laugh made her feel all cozy inside. "I'm just glad my plane ticket wasn't a waste of money."

Sage pulled away. She wiped his tears away gently. "If we're quick, we can make it to the fireworks at Boston Harbor," he suggested through his gravelly voice.

"I'd like that."

Sage intertwined hands as they headed to the car.

He squeezed her hand three times.

***

Author's Note:

Thoughts? I might be a bit hard on myself but was it underwhelming? Possibly not for TOC and TDE readers, but let me know! I have an idea to re-work SIAAF, and I'm thinking dark academia and secret Harvard societies. I don't know, I've been wanting to re-write all my past books and almost completely change the plots lol. We shall see.

Two more chapters to go everyone!

Until next time - m.k.t