Since I made you wait longer for chapter 10, I thought I'd post chapter 11 a few days earlier than I planned. This chapter has a TW for violence (nothing too graphic).

Thanks again to escapewithstories, who's studying her ass off right now and is going to crush her exams later!

January–March 25, 1964

Two weeks after Song's murder, Baako reported that the police had nearly made a connection between the murders and that someone at the British consulate was making enquiries about Jiang. Apparently, British intelligence operatives had been investigating Mrs. Ruan's family for their communist influence, so while they had eyes on his wife, Major Ruan had been murdered in his own home. While the Chinese military apparently had no interest in handing Jiang over to the authorities, especially in light of Special Branch's embarrassing mishandling of the Ruan matter, this news still unsettled Jiang. For Lucien, however, Baako's report brought more joy than he'd felt in nine months. For weeks, Lucien woke every morning with Jean's voice in his head. Today could be the day you come home.

Jiang's frustration, not only with the authorities but also with Baako, did not escape Lucien's notice. Baako's infrequent visits often ended in what most would consider a one-sided dispute, but Lucien knew better than to mistake Jiang's hushed responses for placidity. Reluctantly, Jiang agreed that the hit, originally planned for February, should be postponed until the end of March. Because of the colonel general's recent narrow escape from an assassination attempt, Hai Xu was protected by at least two men in eight-hour rotations. Jiang could not strike prematurely and succeed, so he opted for a risky delay instead.

The most notable change in Lucien's circumstances was that instead of coming to Lucien's room, Jiang invited him to the dining room to strategize. Huan Jiang was incapable of trust, but his confidence in Lucien's willingness to obey for the sake of his family allowed Jiang to bend the rules of traditional captivity. Instead of eating alone in separate rooms, Jiang and Lucien shared the occasional meal together over dossiers and floor plans. Each time Lucien tried to steer the conversation from the hit, Jiang reverted to silence, choosing to use his own expertise rather than risk giving Lucien an excuse to open his mouth.

Based on his surveillance of the property, Jiang proposed that they attack the two guards just after the shift change at 10:00 p.m. When Lucien suggested merely incapacitating them instead of killing them, Jiang responded with a wave of his hand. "As long as I get what I need from Xu, I care not for consequences."

Lucien rubbed his hands over his face, eventually pressing his palms against his closed eyes. "Plan on pinning everything on me, do you?"

"I plan to escape undetected, which is why this extra time to plan is so vital to this operation."

Exhausted from the frequency of the same argument, Lucien refused to ask Jiang why, when the authorities were dangerously close to catching them, he insisted on such bravado. Logic no longer appealed to Jiang, but Lucien refused to quit searching for a way to get through to him. If a man was willing to go to these lengths, however depraved, to avenge a lie about his family, surely a glimmer of light remained in his ravaged soul.

"That's a bold assumption," Lucien said. "After all you've done for him, could you really accept dying without seeing your son again?"

The scratch of lead against paper ceased momentarily. "It will not come to that."

Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, Lucien cocked his head. "For a man who plans for every contingency, that's an obstinate stance."

"It is because I have planned for every contingency that I will not fail."

You don't know everything, he would have said, if it wouldn't have thrown away his only chance at fulfilling his vow to Jean. "Have you thought about what Gen wants?" When Jiang thumbed through another file without responding, Lucien said, "He's a grown man now, and you cannot disregard his feelings just because you think you know what's best for him."

Jiang's head snapped up, eyes faintly glimmering as if light was trapped at the bottom of two bottomless pools. "I have always done what is best for my son."

With a sad smile, Lucien shook his head. "Fathers think that, don't we? Because we were brought up to believe that the patriarch of a family should have all the answers, that we're weak if we admit that we don't know what to do." Bracing himself for a violent reaction, he tried meeting Jiang's elusive gaze. "I didn't know if I was making the right choice when I put my family on that boat. For a long time, I told myself that it was my father's fault, and after the delusion failed, I blamed my pride. Those were contributing factors, but in the end, I simply had no idea what to do and no one to turn to. There was…nothing anyone could do, for either Li and Mei Lin or Gen and Jinjing."

When Jiang did meet Lucien's eyes, the animosity within them made Lucien worry the man would snap his neck. "When you see the world as I do, there is always something to be done, even if revenge is the only option."

Late-March humidity thickened both the air and the billowy fog, which disguised the men in black as mere blurry shadows. A thunderstorm nearly ruined Jiang's carefully laid plans, but in the end, not even the weather defied Huan Jiang. To Lucien, nature's cooperation only added to his dismal outlook on the situation.

He had run out of time, to save Jiang or himself.

Baako's last visit, only two weeks ago, convinced Jiang that the British had given up on pursuing him. The British military's embarrassment over Major Ruan's murder and the Chinese government's staunch denial of any knowledge regarding Huan Jiang had shattered all of Lucien's hopes of rescue. The probability of a fourth murder mocked Lucien, who had tried to outsmart a lost, calculating man, with nothing more than household items and chance.

Every time he failed, another man and his family paid for it. Not again. Tonight, Lucien would take the last in his long line of chances to save Colonel General Xu and to get home alive. He could not fail either task. If he escaped after Jiang had murdered Xu, Lucien could be blamed for all four murders. But if he died saving Xu's life, Jiang would lay waste to Lucien's family. Lucien tried not to think of Jean, sweet Jean, who, if he failed again, would be killed, or worse, before finding the closure she deserved. He couldn't even give her that. And Li—God, what hell would Jiang unleash on her life by reappearing in his son's? If Jiang was willing to use her to control Lucien, he would have no qualms with hurting her to control his son.

As the time for the last kill drew near, Jiang had displayed nervous ticks that Lucien remembered well from their shared history. Clenching and unclenching fists, unpredictable bouts of fury, and incessant pacing often preceded an assignment on which everything relied. However, those habits didn't alarm Lucien nearly enough as Jiang's muttering did. Jiang, a man of few words, had begun talking to himself in the middle of the night. At first, he thought the voice he heard originated in his own mind, for Jiang had taken to drugging Lucien on nights that Jiang left the house. As his head cleared, however, Lucien recognized the refrain He has to understand, this is all for him, and his heart broke once again for this unreachable man.

But now, protected by the darkness, the nefarious task at hand, Jiang had reclaimed the unsettling peace that came with being in his element. Though bloodshot, his eyes were sharp and his hands, though bruised from a round with a kitchen wall, steady. Pressing their backs against the house's far western wall, they waited until the two weary soldiers drove away in a military vehicle, leaving two unsuspecting comrades to be ambushed. At Jiang's curt nod, they attacked. The crunch of breaking bones made Lucien nauseous, even as he wrapped his arm around the other soldier's neck and squeezed. Dragging him behind the west wall, Lucien waited until the boy's breath slowed before lowering him to the grass. He would have to give the boy's weapon to Jiang, but at least if the boy woke up before they left, he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. Going for help would be his best option.

Using the key ring from the dead soldier's belt, Jiang opened the front door. At such a late hour, the lavish home was still, and the ticking grandfather clock and the wind-blown branches against the windows provided the only sounds.

Until the pad of tiny, carefree feet rose above the unremarkable sounds.

According to the general's dossier, he had one grandson, but since he lived across town, they hadn't considered his presence here tonight. No older than four, the child held a handful of biscuits in one hand and a silky, blue blanket in the other. At first, he blinked slowly, as if he thought he was dreaming, but since the staircase next to him provided the only way to the master bedroom, Jiang quickly disabused him of that notion. Lucien and Jiang both darted for the boy, but Jiang reached him first, wrapping him in a choke hold and gagging him with his blanket before he could scream.

"No!" Lucien hissed, an arm outstretched toward the struggling little boy. If he took another step, he knew that Jiang would snap that tiny neck just as easily as he had the soldier's, but the boy's face was already too red to waste time. "No, please. He's barely more than a baby—too young to be a witness." When Jiang's hold only tightened, Lucien switched tactics. "Gen was six when he thought he saw you coming to save him from a burning building, and no one believed him."

At the sound of his son's name, Jiang's right eye twitched, and he loosened his grip just enough to allow the child to breathe. "He is your responsibility," he said, his voice steady despite the stress of the additional factor. "If he tries to escape, you both die. If he cries for help, you both die. If he interrupts my work, you both die."

"You don't mean to keep him in the room with us?" Lucien gasped. "For God's sake, Jiang, he doesn't need to see his grandfather tortured to death."

"Many boys have seen worse."

After decades without it, connection, the bearer of unexplainable, unpredictable feelings, made Jiang uncomfortable, and Lucien intended to exploit that weakness. "Just because violence ruined your life doesn't mean it has to ruin his. Just hand him over to me, and we can minimize the damage done to this boy by keeping him in another room. Like you said, he will be my responsibility. Same rules apply. In fact, he's hardly seen your face, so when interrogated by the authorities, he will more easily identify me if I keep him close." At the sound of the boy's whimpering, Lucien locked eyes with him and prayed he could see the kindness and sincerity in his gaze, but the boy squeezed his eyes shut. "I just want to keep him safe, and if you truly thought he needed to die, you'd have killed him instantly."

After the longest five seconds Lucien had ever known, Jiang nodded at down at the child, whose tears would have wet Jiang's hand if not for the gloves. "Take him and follow my lead."

Lucien reached Jiang in two strides and plucked the boy from Jiang's clutches. Unfortunately, with his gag loosened, the child opened his mouth to cry for help, so Lucien brought a hand to the boy's mouth. "I know you don't trust me, and this is all very scary, but I need you to stay quiet," he whispered in Mandarin, hoping Jiang, nearly six paces ahead, couldn't hear. "I want to keep you safe, and I want to help your grandfather if I can." He reached for the boy's blanket, which had fallen between them when the boy had opened his mouth. Brushing the silky cloth against the child's cheek, Lucien whispered, "Hold tight to this, cover your ears, and close your eyes."

The poor little chap seemed relieved at the command to shut his watery eyes.

Jiang did not pause at the top to the stairs to listen, for if their unexpected encounter had woken Xu, Jiang did not want to give him more time to prepare a defense. Jiang, pressed against the wall next to the third door on the right, nodded to the open door across the hall from him before soundlessly turning the doorknob and slipping inside Xu's room. Lucien, without even the beginnings of a plan, decided to take the boy into the room Jiang indicated for the time being.

When his eyes adjusted to the darkness in the small room, he noted the small size of the unmade bed with stuffed animals strewn about. Without a word, Lucien knelt and set the boy on his feet. Surprised, but apparently not stupid, the child scurried away from Lucien, stumbling every few feet through the obstacle course of toys between the door and the bed. Lucien let him go, for the only way out of the room was the door behind him.

Lucien knew he should probably spend some time encouraging the boy to trust him, but the pressure of formulating a plan with a child's life on the line made that step seem frivolous. It wouldn't matter if they trusted each other if Jiang caught them before they escaped. In three strides, he'd crossed the room to the window, which faced the front lawn. The house was protected from the local population by a foreboding gate, about half a mile from the house. Hoisting the child over would be next to impossible—

Screams from across the hall set the child wailing.

Lucien was at the child's bedside in a moment, cursing himself for not working on getting the boy to trust him. Instead of covering the boy's mouth, he cupped his hands over his ears. An expert in Jiang's tactics by now, Lucien knew that he wouldn't hurt Xu too much for too long in the beginning. He waited for the cries to subside before removing his hands and holding them up for the boy to see. "Okay, that's over for now," he said. "Next time you hear anything like that, cover your ears, alright?"

With a pitiful whimper, the boy nodded.

"Right. My name is Lucien. Can you tell me your name?"

The child burrowed under the covers.

"Fair enough. I know this is hard to believe, but I want to help you. The man across the hall is not my friend. I'm going to try and find a way out of here." He paused, studying the tiny lump in the covers. "Do you want to help me find a way?"

"No." The conviction in such a tiny voice would have made Lucien laugh under less dire circumstances.

"That's fine," Lucien said. "I'd be scared of me too."

A tuft of black hair poked out from under the blanket, followed by a pair of wide, brown eyes. "Nuh-uh."

"I promise. Want to know a secret?" Lucien asked. When the boy nodded, he leaned close to whisper, "I'm scared to death right now."

Before the little one could respond, more terrible sounds rang out, and the boy scrambled into Lucien's lap. Covering the boys dimpled hands with his own scarred ones, Lucien ground his teeth and counted the seconds until the sounds waned.

"My name is Ming, and I'll help you if you make him stop," the child sobbed.

Holding tight to Ming, Lucien rose from the bed. "We need to get you to safety, Ming, and then I promise I'll make him stop." Moving back to the window, he peered down, gauging the possibility of climbing down with Ming. A fall from this height would likely kill them both, and with the recent rain soaking the roof, Lucien didn't want to risk a fall.

For a split second, Lucien swore he saw the golden glow of a torch flicker in the bushes lining the drive. On instinct, he ducked beside the windowsill, keeping Ming out of sight. Did the unconscious guard have a flashlight? If so, why would he be hiding? Then the light flashed again and again and again, and Lucien nearly laughed when he realized that someone was spelling "dragonfly" in morse code.

"Okay, Ming, listen carefully." He found himself whispering, hypersensitive to every potential way these haphazard scraps of a plan could go wrong. Jiang would be preoccupied, but at any moment, he could burst in, wanting proof that Lucien and Ming were right where he left them. "I have a friend out there, and he brought some men who can help us."

Before Lucien could say anything else, he heard a crash downstairs, and there was no more time. Jiang would make one of two assumptions, that Lucien had made the noise in a botched escape attempt or that someone else was intervening. Either way, he wouldn't be stupid enough not to check Ming's bedroom first.

"Are those—"

Lucien shushed Ming, sat on the floor, and held the child tighter so that they would look just as shocked as Jiang would undoubtedly be. When Jiang burst in, eyes wild with fury, Lucien knew he had the upper hand. Anger had always made Jiang sloppy; he'd been angry when Lucien put a bullet in his shoulder.

Steady on, Blake. Don't get cocky.

"Follow me," Jiang hissed.

At the sight of his grandfather's blood on Jiang's face, Ming began to cry again, so Lucien patted his back ineffectually as he followed one of the last orders Jiang would ever give him. Whoever broke in meant to be heard, but Lucien wondered if the men had infiltrated the house. If so, he could hand the boy off and ensure his safety. From the top of the staircase at the end of the hall, Lucien saw moonlight flooding through the front windows into the foyer, where a rock lay in a pile of shattered glass.

Lucien scrutinized every shadow on their descent—behind the grandfather clock, in the alcove, between the fluttering curtains. But neither Lucien nor Jiang could look under the staircase until it was too late. A blur tackled Jiang, and as they struggled, Lucien sprang for the door. One of Fitz's men tried to drag him outside, but Lucien thrust Ming into his arms.

"Take the boy," Lucien demanded. As soon as he saw Ming over the threshold, he headed straight for the fight. Jiang had escaped his attacker's hold and was brandishing his knife in one hand and gun in the other. His attacker, a little worse for wear with a slash across his cheek, held his much larger gun steady, aimed right at Jiang's head.

Taking a tentative step forward with an outstretched arm as his only defense, Lucien said, "Okay, how about we all calm down?"

"I think we might be a bit past that, Blake."

Lucien had never been so glad to hear Charles Fitzwilliam's voice, but it was not the one Jiang needed to hear.

"Huan, don't listen to him. Listen to me," Lucien said. "Think of Gen. This isn't going as you planned, but there's still a chance you can see him again if you just put the gun down and come quietly."

Swinging his arm around, Jiang shook his gun in Lucien's direction. "Come quietly?" The volatility in his voice matched his shaking hands. "No one comes quietly in our business, Blake."

Lucien shook his head and mustered a tentative smile. "You're not in the business anymore, Jiang. Whatever you may think, whatever you've done, you don't have a higher up telling you what to do. You can make your own choice, just as you have this last year in taking what's owed you."

Jiang sneered. "You think once they hand me over to the Chinese government, I will live another day?"

"You and I both know that you know too much to be handled in the usual way," Lucien countered, taking a step closer inside their imperfect circle. "In any case, they'll want to debrief you. But don't think about them right now. You didn't do this for them. You did it for Gen, and he deserves to hear that from his father's lips."

When Jiang hesitated, Lucien knew he had him.

The armed officer behind Jiang didn't feel the same way.

"Sanders, don't!"

Fitz's command came too late. Before anyone could get close enough to stop him, Jiang had stabbed Sanders in the gut and aimed his gun at Fitz.

Time had only stood still for Lucien once before—on day 30 of the battle of Singapore, when their stims had run out, and grown men were slumped, half asleep against their rifles, only to be roused by the next firefight or explosive. What remained of his company was about to be overtaken, and oddly, Lucien almost felt relief that at least for a few minutes, as long as it took the enemy soldiers to round them up, no more of his friends would have to die.

Now, on day 363 of this monstrous campaign for revenge, Lucien knew he would do whatever it took to prevent the loss of another man's life.

I'm sorry, Jean, he thought as the first bullet hit. I'm so sorry.