Unlike their grandmother and Bill, Ron had been poisoned. He'd felt the effects while in his car, drove off the road, then stepped out and died into a ditch.

Alone.

His autopsy report broke Sam to pieces, but it wasn't like it changed anything. Ron was still dead and already buried next to his mother after a brief and painful funeral. It was the least they could do after chasing him out of his house and bringing about his death. As much as Christine insisted it was not their fault, Sam couldn't shake the blame.

It made him want to scream. Made him want to go to the cemetery, sit in front of Skye's grave and ask her to enlighten him, bring some meaning into this mess. Go to Kyle's tombstone and hug it, beg him to come back. Because a part of him was convinced that they wouldn't have dared go this far if Kyle was still alive.

As it was, he had nothing. He closed the report and focused on the screen of his laptop where he'd been trying to identify more about where the last jewel could be. Had the shrine been a decoy and the stone was somewhere else, or was there more that they'd left uncovered? And since the structure had collapsed, should they go back there? He had to make a call and soon, but all the death around him wouldn't let him focus.

Every time he walked into the Agency building he expected something to happen. Every moment he spent in his office, he listened for footsteps, hoping that Harry would come to confirm that it was done, over with, and no one around them would die anymore.

It had been ten days since his grandmother's death. Seven days since Bill died. Three days since they'd buried Ron. At least their mother was still alive.

A door opened down the corridor and Sam straightened in his seat, hoping it was Harry. When the steps headed in the opposite direction, he returned to the screen of his laptop once again, and to the articles and maps he had open. A part of him resented that he couldn't just go to Harry and badger him, but since their last interaction, it was very important not to mess up. He was convinced Harry enjoyed keeping him on edge. He also knew that if he didn't come with and answer soon, Tom and Jimmy might lose their patience and punch him in the face. Sam hoped Harry knew that, too.

Brazil. It has to be in Brazil. That shrine full of warnings in many languages couldn't be there for nothing. Sam's mind returned to the tunnels underneath the structure, filled with traps and water. Could there be more under the water? Could they find one of those air vents and make their way inside in search of alternative paths, even if they'd initially missed it? He saw no other solution.

His phone started vibrating, almost scaring the life out of him. When he glanced at the screen, he frowned. It came with no caller ID. He picked it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Sam, it's William."

Huh? "Why are you calling me off a burner?" William's line was encrypted so it was supposed to be safe.

"I don't have much time, so please listen. They tried to come for me."

"What?" Sam's blood seemed to freeze in his veins. "Who?"

"I'm not one hundred percent sure or I'd tell you. Three cars followed me. I noticed, got out, walked into a convenience store. Armed men came in after me. Knocked two of them out and ran for it. Hotwired a car and am on my way to pick up Dea. We're going underground. The thing is, after what happened to your family, I don't think it's a coincidence. You guys need to disappear, too, and activate code red."

William thought it was most likely the Agency as well. Sam agreed but he also knew he couldn't do that until they found the last jewel. They'd discussed it over and over again, and they'd all agreed it would put the Agency on alert enough to cause real trouble and maybe start looking for the thing themselves. Sam really didn't need that sort of competition.

"Just swear to me that you'll take care of Kay and the kids. Keep them safe."

"You know we will!" Honestly, if Sam wasn't so rattled by the news, he would've felt a little offended. They'd sworn to Kyle that they would look after Kay and that trumped everything.

"Thank you. And watch your backs."

Sam didn't need that warning either, but he appreciated it all the same. It didn't make what happened less shocking though. After William hung up, he kept staring at his phone, his heart beating unevenly. It was obviously not over. They'd just tried to do in a trained agent and failed for once. The idea that they'd been so close to facing another death had his fists clenching and unclenching and cold sweat running down his back.

They'd dodged a bullet this time, but who was next? Tina? The professor? Sam had always hoped he was too estranged from them to make them targets. A knot lodged itself in his throat. Skye's parents?

A knock on his door made him jump. The door opened and Harry leaned his shoulder against the frame.

"What are you up to?" he asked, his tone light as if they hadn't just tried to kill William. He frowned, probably noticing how pale Sam was. "What happened?"

Sam hesitated, the fear inside him battling the rage at how useless Harry had been. Sam had humiliated himself in front of him for nothing. And now he wasn't sure if he should say anything.

"Please don't tell me someone else died," Harry said, the color draining from his face.

Maybe he should, then. Motivate him more. "Someone tried to kill William."

"What?"

"He barely escaped. Why's this happening?"

"I don't know, but holy shit." Harry wiped his face with one hand. "William is an active agent."

"Don't you think I know that? Who's next? You? Because you used to be my best friend."

"Don't say something like that."

"Lisa?" Sam pressed on. "Any other friend we ever had?"

"Sam, stop."

"How many more people have to die before you get off your ass and do something?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

It came like a bucket of cold water, but Sam got the message. He rearranged his face into an emotionless mask. "Snitch Gravel is out of his mind if he thinks he can go after active agents."

Harry didn't take the bait. He glanced at Sam's desk, at the maps, the articles and his laptop. "What are you working on?"

There it was. "Trying to figure out where else the jewel could be."

"Any luck with it?"

"Not exactly." Harry raised his eyebrows and Sam understood he had to give more. He couldn't just brush Harry away this time. "I was thinking to change strategies a little." He stood from his desk and walked to the map he had up on the wall. "The most obvious place to look was near Machu Pichu, but I'm thinking of trying Cuzco instead."

Harry nodded. "So you really think it's in Peru."

"Yeah, it would make the most sense. The Incas were a very important culture."

"What if it's in Africa or something?"

"I'm not taking that into consideration for now."

"Why not?"

Sam sighed. It wasn't like he was going to give Harry his colonialism theory or mention all the warning in Brazil that made it clear it was there, because the Agency could do their own damn research as far as he was concerned. But then again, sending them to Africa could be a better idea.

"I haven't identified a culture to fit the bill there yet. But it's on my list after I cross the Incas out."

"Why don't you cross them out faster?"

Now he was getting annoying. "Because they don't have any relevant writing. Just knots on strings which are very easily perishable."

Harry pondered on this for a while, glancing upwards. "Yeah, fair enough. Come with me."

Sam frowned. "Where to?"

"We need to report on William."

Shit. Sam should've obviously kept that to himself, but he'd hoped it would scare Harry into helping them. Well, he guessed he could lie to more people instead. So he shut the lid of his laptop and followed Harry down the hall. They didn't stop in his office, but climbed to the next floor. Sam hadn't been there in ages. Finally, Harry stopped in front of an office that read "Richard Keeves" and nothing else.

Great. Just what Sam needed, another asshole. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Keeves, but he hadn't missed the guy.

Harry knocked and opened the door once they were allowed entrance. The office was much bigger than the ones downstairs, a large window taking up most of the back wall. A massive dark wood desk stood beneath the window. Sam didn't even bother with the rest of the room or the decorations once his eyes fell on Keeves. He'd never liked the guy, and now it was no different.

His hair was a little thinned out, grey strands visible through the reddish-brown. He still had his mustache which now looked thicker as if to make up for the hair. His eyes were as watery and beady as they'd always been, full of petty malice.

He raised his eyes from the screen of his computer and grinned at them.

"Well, well, well. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's what we've discussed, sir," Harry stepped further into the room.

Sam hated it, but knew he had to follow. He had to act like he belonged there, as if the idea of whatever Keeves and Harry had discussed wasn't making him nauseous.

"Really now, Harry?" Keeves kept his eyes on Sam, though. "Feeling persecuted, are we?"

"Persecuted?" Sam stopped as far away from the desk as he could without making it obvious that he didn't want to be there. "Not at all. Just asking for some protection. Aren't we all in this together?"

"Ah, yes. We are, we are." Keeves leaned back in his seat, placing his joined hands behind his head. His maroon suit reminded Sam unpleasantly of Freider. "I've heard about all your recently dead relatives. My condolences. Even for that menace of an uncle of yours."

"Thank you." Sam didn't think he could sound less sincere even if he tried.

"Have you thought about it?" Keeves pressed on. "Why this is happening? What message these murders are trying to send?"

Sam winced as Keeves unabashedly called them like they were. Murders. It also became fairly clear who was behind them. It didn't make sense, though. Why would the Agency kill their own symbol on those business cards?

The raise of Keeves' eyebrows made it clear he didn't have the luxury to come up with complicated theories right then.

"What's going on?" he asked instead.

"I was hoping you could tell me." Keeves turned to Harry. "So tell me, little James, what is the issue here?"

Harry hesitated, obviously not liking where this was going. "Sam told me William has been attacked."

Keeves' questioning glance moved back to Sam. He didn't look at all surprised. "Really?"

Sam bit his lip, his pulse racing as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Was he misreading everything or had Keeves dropped any pretense that it wasn't them? He couldn't afford to screw up. Too much was at stake.

"Yes, really. Don't you protect your own?"

"Are you our own, Sam Grant?"

"What's that supposed to mean? I've been working for you for nearly ten years!" And he hoped he sounded affronted enough.

"But have you? I'm getting the feeling you've been rather... distracted lately."

Sam clenched his fists, trying to rein in the anger overcoming him. They'd sacrificed so much for that damn Agency, put their lives at risk again and again. They'd lost Kyle.

"I'm sorry," he said between clenched teeth. "Having to constantly organize funerals can be a little distracting."

"Ah, yes." Keeves leaned back in his seat. "It was tragic what happened to your brother. He was so young. So, so young." He shook his head, the satisfaction on his face disgusting.

"Are you trying to get me to rage at you or what? Yes, he was young, yes this isn't fair. And yes, he fucking died while we were trying to get the jewel for you!" Nope, it didn't work. All the breathing in the world couldn't erase the red in front of Sam's eyes.

"But you failed," Keeves said, his tone just as joyful as before. "And not only that, but you didn't tell us how, why and what you're going to do about it. How's that loyalty, Sam? How are we supposed to trust you?"

"You never really trusted us."

"You blackmailed us."

Harry's words had Sam freezing. He had always half-expected to be betrayed by Harry, but not so spectacularly and not now.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, trying to sound shocked rather than furious.

"Ah, yes." Keeves stood, his hands folded behind his back. "Erase all your wrongdoings just so you'd keep working for us. Look for the jewel."

"It was a mutual agreement," Sam growled. "You have some nerve after what you did to Jimmy."

"It was our treatment that made him better!"

"Lee Hannigan is still working for you!"

"And what's wrong with that?"

The voice had ice chips running down his spine. Before Sam could turn around, something heavy hit him on the back of the head and everything went black.

🧭

It had been so long since Sam had last lost consciousness, he'd almost forgotten how annoying it could be. But as his senses slowly returned, all he could focus on was the pounding in his head. For some reason, he knew it was better than what would follow.

And in a flash of blinding neon light, everything returned in a shocking avalanches o truth.

Lee Hannigan. He was no longer somewhere out of reach, in California. He was right there, Sam had heard him speak. But as his eyes became adjusted to the light, he realized that he was alone.

Trying to lift his hands to massage his temples also revealed that he couldn't. His wrists were cuffed, a chain running between them and under the cold metal table. He could see his reflection in the large one-way mirror in front of him. He was in one of the interrogation rooms.

Ah, hell no! They did not just cuff him up like some thug awaiting questioning. But the chain was short and his movement fairly impaired. His head also still pounded which wasn't helping.

Calm down. You're just groggy. Just breathe and think. There had to be another way to get out of this without blowing the place apart. Talk. Reason with Keeves and Harry. Maybe he'd completely imagine Hannigan's voice. He was, after all, distressed.

But the longer he stayed there, the harder it became to stay calm. His knees started bouncing as he glanced around the room. There was no sound, no sign of movement. How long had he even been there? He turned his left wrist to check his watch, but it wasn't there.

"What the...?"

"Looking for this?"

Harry's voice echoed around the room for a moment before he entered through a door on Sam's left. He held his watch up by the strap. The dial blinked light blue, and even from the distance, Sam could tell it was Christine asking for tracking permission. It was late and she was obviously worried.

"Give me back my watch," he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Interesting gadget." Keeves joined the party, closing the door in his wake. He walked to the table and dropped on the chair across from Sam.

Sam raised his cuffed hands as high as he could, which wasn't much. "What is this? And knocking me out? Really?" The lump on the back of his head still throbbed.

"You were getting a little rowdy." Keeves took the watch from Harry and glanced at it. "I felt threatened."

Sam huffed. "You know I'm harmless." No, he wasn't, but he didn't want to prove it yet.

Keeves nodded, maybe only half-paying attention. "Why is your watch blinking and the name of your wife is on the dial?"

Because they had gadgets they never shared with the Agency. "She's calling me and I can't get to my phone."

"She's not." Harry took out what appeared to be Sam's phone from the inside pocket of his jacket.

That traitorous asshole. "Then she called multiple times and I didn't answer. The watch just reminds me I should call her back."

Keeves looked up to Harry. "Then maybe you should call her back and tell her that Sam is just fine."

The simple phrase made Sam's temples pulsate even harder. "Don't you dare call Christine!" He hated the idea, but if he thought a little, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea. She'd immediately know something was wrong and where he was.

The thought seemed to cross Harry's mind as well because he shook his head. "I'm not calling her. You do it if you want to."

Keeves clicked his tongue. "Still afraid to talk to her? I thought you two were fairly cozy at some point." He turned to Sam with a satisfied smirk on his face.

He wouldn't fall for it, even if Keeves was an asshole. "What do you want? What's the point of all this?"

"To motivate you." Keeves pulled out a thin metal rod and glanced at it. "Because you haven't been keeping your end of the deal." He took the watch from Harry and placed it on the table. "Lying. Hiding things from us." With one short jab, he crushed the dial of the watch.

Sam fought not to wince. "You're one to speak. You never tell us anything. Just have us do things for you."

"And we were right," Keeves said, taking Sam's phone next and placing it face up on the table. "You and your brothers are planning to double-cross us."

"No we're not. And anyway, if it were true, you think breaking my stuff would fix that?"

"Maybe you need more motivation to do your job."

Sam jumped and turned towards the door. He hadn't imagined it. Lee Hannigan really was there, that sick, conceited grin on his face. Sam swallowed heavily, trying to keep himself in check, remain calm and talk his way out of this.

He couldn't. He was too aware of the fact that the man before him had almost killed Jimmy, kept him locked up and experimented on him, tried to force himself on Jessie.

In a flash of blinding rage, Sam stood, kicked his heel to the seat of his chair and picked it up. His mobility was minimal, but he still managed to grab the back of the chair and throw it over the table towards Hannigan. He wasn't fast enough to duck, so he took it square in the chest and fell against the one-way mirror.

The following second something hard and cold hit Sam across the face and propelled him under the table. His wrists ached as the cuffs dug into them and he found himself on the floor, his arms dangling awkwardly.

"Get up," Keeves said between his teeth. He no longer sounded amused.

His entire jaw burning, Sam got to his knees and rested his elbows on the table. "Get this piece of shit out of my sight."

"You don't get to order us around, boy," Hannigan said, drawing himself up. There was only rage on his face, but Sam didn't care. He wanted to hit him again.

"Untie me and I'll show you who the boy is."

"Untie you?" Keeves let out a harsh laugh and swung the metal rod towards the table.

Sam moved his hands out of the way. The sound of metal on metal had his head pounding again. He couldn't dodge when the next hit caught him across the shoulder. His muscles burned in protest, but he had nowhere to run or seek shelter.

"You see, Rick, I was right." Hannigan pulled out his own metal rod, his eyes shining with a manic pleasure that reminded Sam unpleasantly of Cannon. "He does need a lesson in obedience and loyalty." He swung the weapon at Sam's head.

A fraction of a second of calculation had Sam deciding not to duck. He didn't want to get knocked out again, so he'd rather be hit in the face rather than the back of the head. It hurt like a bitch and he let out a groan. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth.

"Look, he's learning," Hannigan said with glee.

"You know this won't end well," Sam mumbled. "Killing me will have consequences."

"Kill you?" Keeves shook his head in pity as if Sam was an idiot. "Why would we kill you? You just said it your self. We need you to find the last jewel. We're merely teaching you a lesson. Teaching you all a lesson. Because if any of you even think of coming after us, there are more tender people who could serve as a lesson to all of you."

"If you touch my family--"

"You'll what, pumpkin?" Hannigan asked. "And would you be able to stop us before we do? So why don't you just be a good little boy and learn your lesson? Take one for the team."

Another hit across the jaw had Sam's head spinning and he fell over. The chains didn't even let him rest on the floor, his torso half-suspended in midair. His eyes watered from the pain, but he pushed himself back to his knees. As he did, his eyes fell on Harry.

He'd backed up as if trying to blend in with the wall, his face pale, his eyes wide.

Yeah, that's right you son of a bitch. Look. Watch and see what you've done. For a moment, Sam wanted to call him out, but after another hit to his ribs, he changed his mind. There was no point drawing him into this. He didn't need three people hitting him. Two were enough.

So he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, on every tense muscle in his body, trying to numb himself out and take the pain. He'd practiced this enough in Japan where the torture had been a lot more savage. He'd survived then and he'd survive now.

At some point, they'd have to let him go.

And then, all hell would break loose.

🧭🧭🧭

We can officially say that shit has hit the fan. Were you expecting this? Things to go south so spectacularly? Needless to say, we're getting a mini-climax for the end of part II which is in sight. Just four more chapters to go.

Any thoughts are greatly appreciated. Also, do you think they'll just let Sam go? And if they don't, then what?

Stay tuned to find out! And don't forget to vote and comment for support.