Days kept passing, and each day another organization fell under Bastien’s wrath. He was in his office when one of his oldest collaborators came to see him. The man entered and found Bastien holding a glass of whiskey and a cigarette, staring into the darkness.

— Sir.

— What do you want?

— I came to beg for mercy.

— Do you have Richard?

— No, but I have something else.

The man signaled, and they dragged Bastien’s double in, throwing him at his feet. Bastien looked at him and set down his glass. He grabbed the man’s face and examined him closely—it was like staring into a mirror. The only difference: this man had blue eyes and still bore the scratches Kate’s friends had left on him.

— So it was you.

— Hello, brother. — Bastien’s eyes widened. The man cleared his throat. — I hope this earns us your mercy.

— It will. — A dark smile curved Bastien’s lips. — Take him away.

Bastien took another sip.

— Kate, I’ll find you. I swear I will.

He walked down the hall to the cell where the double w