Rise above the ground, where you lay
You’ve been laying there so long
You’ve just about forgotten how
To live your life
Well, you can’t find where you belong
No, you can’t find where you fit in
Don’t you think it’s time you gave your life a chance again
– Ready to Rise, Vaughan Penn

---

July 2016

Cassadine Island, Greece

Heat seared into his skin, burning through the tattered remains of his white shirt and dark pants. From the top of his disheveled dark hair to the tips of his toes, still tucked, oddly enough, inside waterlogged Italian loafers.

He lay nearly dead on the sand, his cheek pressed against the ground, arms spread at his sides, the dull roar of the Aegean and the brightness of the sun piercing his head with sharp pain—

It would be easier, simpler for all if he stayed where he was, waiting for the inevitable end when the tide rose and washed him back out to sea just as it washed him ashore.

Except…

He was a Cassadine.

Death was only the beginning, and simple was for the peasants they’d ruled for centuries. Who cared that the Russian Revolution had ripped away that aristocratic privilege? Or if society’s laws tried to reign in their desire for power and wealth?

It wasn’t even the first time this year that death had pursued him. It would take more than a gunshot to the chest and a plunge into the sea below to destroy most Cassadines.

And he was no mere Cassadine, as his grandmother had been fond of telling him, though when Helena spoke those words, they always sounded more ominous than proud.

You, my darling grandson, have the blood of czars in your veins. Of warlords and Cossacks. The world should tremble before you.

He was the son of Stavros, grandson of Mikkos; he could trace his lineage back to the beginnings of Russia, to what was little more than a cold wasteland known as Muscovy. The Cassadines had endured before the empire, and they would rise from its ashes like phoenixes.

He was Nikolas Cassadine, and he would not go quietly into the night and let all that belonged to him — his power, his wealth, his family — be stolen from him by some mere nobody, some bastard that had no sense of honor or compassion.

He might have the darkness of the Cassadine curse coursing through him, but he also had the gentle strength and love of Laura Webber Spencer, the quiet power that came only from doing what was right and good.

He’d lost sight of that, and maybe it was beyond his power to regain it, but —

He would not give up.

Nikolas pushed himself up on one elbow, his blurred vision slowly sharpening. Was anyone looking for him? Or had they given him up for dead?

Everything throbbed with pain, from his head to his toes — he looked at them now, wiggling inside the ruined shoes. Nikolas exhaled slowly.

Valentin. The bastard Cassadine who had threatened to murder Ava Jerome if Nikolas didn’t sign over the Cassadine estate and fortune. And he’d done it, hadn’t he? He dragged his hands down his face, wincing when the sand scratched his face. Christ. He’d signed away everything, and Valentin had still nearly pulled the trigger.

They’d fought—and then nothing.

Nikolas rolled to his feet, wincing as the pain bit into his shoulder anew. He looked around the beach, looked up to the cliffs. He was on the far side of the island. If they were looking for him, they might not have found him yet.

And if they weren’t looking, well—

Nikolas clutched his shoulder and started to walk. He’d get himself cleaned up, and then he’d take care of this usurper, this fraud, one way or the other.

He was Nikolas Mikail Stavrosovich Cassadine, and he would not go quietly.

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

Istanbul, Turkey: International Airport

Luke Spencer flipped through his wallet, extracted a credit card which he extended to his son. “Go get us a car, Cowboy. A low key one,” he added. “Don’t get nothing flashy. This isn’t Budapest. We need to stay under the radar.”

“Got it, no sports cars.” Lucky Spencer picked up the bag he’d carried onto the flight, a tan satchel that he looped across his chest. “You got anything against monster trucks?”

“Smart ass,” Luke muttered. “I need to make some calls. I’ll meet you outside.”

Lucky offered a two-finger salute, heading for the rental counter where he got the car he wanted — a sweet two-seater Etox Zafer in a cherry red. If he was going to be dragged away from his own mission because his brother had some grand plan, Lucky was going to make it clear he wasn’t taking orders.

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to take them from Nikolas, of all people.

The rental agent behind the counter smiled as she slid the keys toward Lucky.

“Başka bir şey var mı, efendim?” she said.

Lucky’s Turkish was rusty, but he could hold his own. “No, I don’t need anything else, thanks,” he said, answering back in her language and leaving to meet his father.

The agent had reminded him of Elizabeth, he thought, shoving the rental paperwork into his satchel. Superficially — chestnut brown hair, light skin, blue eyes. Not uncommon on the European side of Istanbul, but it was still an unwelcome reminder. Lucky had spent the last week or so trying to forget his last encounter with his ex-wife, her harsh words, and the familiar disappointment in those eyes.

He’d never quite measured up to her expectations as a husband or a father, even before he’d left Port Charles, and he was mostly used to that. He’d never lived up to anyone’s expectations, not since Helena Cassadine had drugged and kidnapped him, then faked his death with a fire. He usually talked his way around Elizabeth when she was in those kinds of moods, but he hadn’t been able to shake her as easily this time.

He’d just wanted to leave, to follow up on a lead he was sure would break open the whole goddamn mess — but she’d looked at him with those eyes and reminded him of all the ways he’d let her down.

So he’d pulled out the big guns, and he’d told her the lie he’d been keeping in his back pocket.

I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to…

His chest tightened as he remembered the way she’d looked, when she’d understood what he was telling her. He didn’t stay in Port Charles and didn’t talk much to any of the kids because they didn’t feel like his.

A damned lie, Lucky thought as he found the car he’d rented in the parking lot. He’d never given Cameron’s paternity a second thought. Not since the little boy had looked at him with his mother’s eyes and called him Daddy. And Jake? God, he’d always love Jake. Believing him dead for four years had shattered his whole world.

And of course, he loved Aiden. The sweet, funny kid who looked just like Lucky, but had his mother’s smile—

He exhaled slowly. But Elizabeth had believed him, and Lucky had been able to leave. Had gone to Bosnia, sure that this time he’d found the smoking gun. That he’d be able to show Elizabeth the truth and there was time to fix the rest of it, wasn’t there?

But it had been another dead end. He’d ripped out Elizabeth’s heart and hurt her for nothing.

“You ready, Cowboy?” Luke came up, then scowled. “The hell is this?” he demanded. He yanked an unlit cigar from his mouth. “What’d I tell you about flashy?”

“I heard you. I decided I didn’t care.” Lucky opened the door. “You want to complain, or do you want get this over with?”

Luke grumbled but slid into the passenger side. “You really need to learn about traveling under cover.”

“And you need to relax and have a little fun.” Lucky tossed his bag in the small space behind the seats. “And work on your Turkish. You sound like an idiot.”

“You—” Luke sputtered, but his answer was lost as Lucky put the car into gear, revved the engine and pealed out of the parking lot.

Fatih District: Kiremit Caddesi

Kiremit Caddesi was a steep street in the Balat neighborhood on the European side of the old city. It climbed from the shores of Golden Horn estuary towards the Fatih district center and considered itself a tourist destination, which meant it was easier to blend in if you were an American woman on the run.

Britt Westbourne stepped out of the taxi and looked dubiously at the row of brightly colored houses, then down at the address she’d scribbled back in Geneva. This was the right street, she thought. And that was the house number — but she’d expected something a bit more —

Well, a bit more. She’d lived in that huge gothic mansion on Spoon Island, and she’d seen the estate in Greece. And one of the Cassadine properties in Moscow—

But this tiny street with the tall houses built so close together she almost felt claustrophobic—this didn’t feel like a Cassadine house. The bright blue building rose four stories from the ground, with bars covering the ground floor windows, and even the front door. Britt gripped the handle on her single suitcase tightly as she went to the front door and knocked.

A moment later the heavy oak door behind the bars opened, and she saw Nikolas. He unlocked the barred gate and led her into the tiny foyer. A flight of stairs was directly in front of them next to a skinny hallway that led towards the back of the house. To the side was a cramped room with sofas and a coffee table.

“Not exactly the Ritz,” Nikolas said, closing the door behind her. “But it’ll do for now. It’s good to see you.”

“Really? I haven’t heard from you since last April.” Britt set her suitcase at her feet. “What new hoops do you have for me to jump through?”

Nikolas arched a brow. “Come with me, I’ll show you the room  where you’ll be staying.” He picked up her luggage and started up the cramped set of stairs.

“Oh, you’re a bellhop now?” she muttered darkly, but followed. Three flights later — when they’d reached the top of the house, and Britt wanted to choke him, Nikolas showed her a bedroom overlooking the street. It was small and cramped, with a double bed tucked against the wall, a desk next to it and a tall dresser in the corner by the windows. “Are you planning to tell me anything at all?”

“Luke and Lucky are on their way,” Nikolas said, and Britt blinked. “Valentin is in Istanbul, so they’ve been tasked with locating him. I thought it would be a good time for us to gather and discuss what’s next.”

“Nikolas—”

He stopped at the door. “You should know I gave Luke and Lucky a cover story that has to do with you. They were following a lead for me last November and needed something to tell the others back home. I told them to use you.”

“Use me?” Britt repeated. “What does that mean?”

“Lucky supposedly caught up to you. We told them that you and Faison split up around the time Jason showed up in Port Charles, and that you spent a few weeks at the clinic last year and woke up Jason. Since it’s not far from the truth—”

“This is the story they told everyone back in Port Charles?” Britt demanded. “What happens if they find out I haven’t seen my father in over a year?”

“Then we’ll just tell them you lied.” Nikolas raised his brow. “They’ll believe that, won’t they? With Elizabeth there to remind them of your track record?”

Britt clenched her jaw at the reminder that her past was littered with lies and deception. “I prefer to do my own lying,” she said coolly, “so in the future, why don’t you ask me first?”

Nikolas tipped his head. “Do you have a problem with the arrangement, Britt? We had a deal. You help me bring down Valentin, and you get your life back.”

When she’d made that deal, she’d never dreamed that eighteen months later, she’d still be waiting for that miracle. But maybe this time — whatever Valentin was doing — maybe this time whatever she was asked to do, it would finally be enough.

“No, that’s still the deal. When does everyone else get here?”

“Soon. We’ll get started when they get here.”

“Can’t wait.”

Kiremit: Study

“You get the whole second floor to yourself?” Luke muttered as he followed Lucky into the room Nikolas referred to as his study but was nothing more than the smaller of the two bedrooms on the floor. He’d had the bed removed and a desk moved in. It overlooked the street, which meant he could track the comings and goings.

He needed to maintain control of the situation, knowing that the volatile mixture of the personalities gathered—himself included—would need little kindling to explode. That was the last thing he needed.

“You’re not in the States anymore, Luke,” Nikolas said dryly. “It’s ground floor, then first story—”

“Oh, who the hell cares—I still have to drag my ass up two flights of stairs just to get to my own room,” Luke began.

“It could be three flights,” Britt said from the doorway, and the three men twisted to look at her. Nikolas saw the dismay in Luke’s face and the irritation in his brother’s. “Oh, I see no one warned you that your trio was a quartet, huh?”

“What the hell is Little Obrecht doing here?” Luke demanded. “Look, I agreed to work with you, not with her—”

“Do you have a medical degree?” Nikolas cut in sharply, and Luke sat back. “No. Lucky, you said that Spinelli was planning to share files with you as he decrypted them. You said there were medical files.”

“Yeah. But—”

“Britt’s a doctor. I know she isn’t exactly the ideal partner, but as long as you assume every word she says is probably a lie, you’ll be fine—”

“That’s two,” Britt said, and he blinked at her. “You insult me one more time and you can read your own damn files. I’ll turn myself into the authorities back in Port Charles. Along with a really interesting story about a dead Cassadine prince. I am not the only liar in this room. ”

Nikolas clenched his jaw. “Don’t threaten me—you need me more than I need you.”

“A year ago, I agreed with you.” Britt folded her arms. “They don’t trust me, Nikolas. And they have every right to feel that way when you start off by calling me a liar who can’t be trusted—”

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be? You think you’re gonna disarm us by playing nice?” Luke got to his feet. “Listen here, Little Obrecht, I know what you did to my daughter—”

“What about what you did to my son?” Lucky’s quiet voice cut through the room and Luke fell quiet. Nikolas looked at his brother, startled at this reminder of Luke’s part in Jake’s accident. But Lucky wasn’t looking at him. He rose, facing Britt. “I don’t have to like or trust you, which I don’t. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have the same goal.” He looked at Nikolas. “And I still haven’t heard what’s so important that you needed me and Dad here. Dad could have handled it on his own — I had a lead—”

“You always have a lead,” Nikolas interrupted. “And it never pans out. When Luke told me Valentin was in Turkey, I knew this was our best shot to get what we needed. Plus, now we have access to more information than we’ll ever need—”

“I have access to it.” Lucky dropped back in his seat. “So you want me here because of the files.”

“Yes.” Nikolas took a deep breath. “I want to know what they know in Port Charles. And if possible, I want to know it first. I need to find Valentin before they do.”

“Obviously, I’ve been left out of a big part of this conversation,” Britt said. “You said the whole reason you needed to stay dead was to keep Valentin thinking he’s safe. But Jason Morgan is home now. Valentin has to know his time is up. Why aren’t you working with him and his brother? Don’t you all have the same goal?”

“You think anyone of them would work with you?” Luke demanded. “You don’t get to complain—”

“Dad, they barely work with us,” Lucky told him. He shrugged, looked back to his brother. “Look, you want Dad to look for Valentin, that’s fine. My focus is making sure every last trace of Helena and her plans, is erased. I need the files to know where to look. If Britt can help with that, great.” He met her eyes. “That sound good to you?”

“Yeah, that works for me.” Britt looked at Nikolas. “Unless you have other orders?”

“No. Both of you, the first priority is those files. Luke will focus on finding Valentin in Turkey, and I’ll continue to investigate the Cassadine properties around the world. I found that clinic in Russia, we’ll find others. We all have a role to play. Let’s play nice and make some progress.”

“Dismissed,” Lucky said. When Nikolas scowled at him, his brother just shrugged. “What? We were all thinking it. I’m going to get set up in my room upstairs. There’s two rooms on the your floor, right?” he asked Britt. “I’ll take the other.”

“Cowboy—”

“Dad, better go call your guy at the WSB. I’ll let you know when we have something to share.”

—

Luke watched Lucky follow Britt out of the room, and once he heard footsteps on the stairs, he closed the door and faced Nikolas. “You really needed her?”

“I know what she did to Lulu, Luke. But she has connections we don’t.” Nikolas sat at the desk. “And I’d rather have her where I can see her. I know you’re pissed that I’m here at all—”

“I liked you better in your little hole in Marseilles,” Luke muttered. He dragged a hand down his face and went to the window to look over the street. “Knowing you’re alive and saying nothing is one thing. Being in the room and working with you is another —”

“You’re free to go any time, Luke. I’m not forcing you to lie to my mother.”

“No, but I’m worried enough about what Valentin might do if he found out there’s still a threat to the Cassadine fortune.” Luke faced him. “He forged that will after trying to kill you backfired. He tried to take out Anna. He’s rattled, and my family is right in the crosshairs. As long as you’re dead and out of the picture, Valentin still believes he’s relatively safe. He’s not going to rock the boat any more than he has already. Anna was a panic move. I don’t expect him to be that stupid again, or for us to walk away unscathed.”

“Britt did her best last year, Luke. And if she’d been able to get Jason awake, we could have had him on our side then. We could have explained things—”

“You would have used him to kill Valentin,” Luke said, and Nikolas closed his mouth. “I’m not an idiot. You get to Morgan first, tell him Valentin is behind it all, and he’ll take out the threat. He takes all the risk, and you get all the reward if it goes right. ”

“That might have been one of the reasons I wanted Jason alive,” Nikolas said, slowly, “but it wasn’t all of it. I knew my grandmother had some kind of plans for Jake. Jason was insurance on that front. Another pair of eyes on him.”

Plans for Jake. Such a vague phrase. Had Nikolas known what those plans were? Luke had wondered but hadn’t let himself consider too deeply. Some secrets were better left in the dark. “You need to keep a close eye on Little Obrecht. Lucky doesn’t know her, but you do. She’s got a way of making herself into a victim. She played you more than once. Don’t let her screw with my boy.”

“Your boy can take care of himself—”

“Don’t you ever forget, Nikolas, you and I have a common goal,” Luke said. “But that doesn’t make us a team.”

Maslak, Istanbul: Lab

In the northern part of the city, in a building that looked like any other office tower, Helena Cassadine had hidden one of her many research facilities. It had taken Valentin’s men nearly two years to locate it —

But now Valentin stood inside of it with his hands on his mother’s research and on one of the Cassadine relatives that had been squirreled away for a rainy day. And yet, he was dissatisfied.

He stood in the small room, where the still body of Stefan Cassadine lay prone in the hospital bed, glaring at the vitals beeping on the monitor by his side.

“How much longer until he is awake?” Valentin demanded. “You told me—”

“I told you it would be some time.” Joseph Klein’s tone nearly sounded like a whine, and if he had another doctor to take this idiot’s place, Valentin would have done it already. “If Herr Cassadine would like to return to Port Charles to await further word—”

“No. If I go back now, I’ll only have to return when you’ve done your job.” His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he ignored it. “How much longer?” he repeated.

“We hope by the end of the week. We have so few case studies to utilize,” Klein reminded Valentin. “After all, only the twins have ever been woken successfully from these comas. And we don’t know how to interpret the formulas left behind by Dr. Scorpio—”

“What about what you used for Jason Morgan?” Valentin growled. “When you woke him on Faison’s orders last year?”

“Dr. Westbourne took those notes with her.” Klein scowled. “If we had those—”

“So get her—”

“We have lost track of her—”

“Imbeciles,” Valentin muttered, stalking out of the room and down the hall where he’d staked out a space for himself. He’d been too excited, he reminded himself. Too anxious to finally delve into the secrets his mother had kept. When he’d learned they’d found one of the pesky brothers who threatened Valentin’s inheritance — well, of course, he’d rushed to the scene.

He ought to have waited. To have taken a breath and called on his patience. But he found harder and harder these days to find it. At every turn he’d been betrayed. His own father had apparently sent Britt Westbourne to wake Jason Morgan. For what reason? Had Faison thought to challenge Valentin’s power? No, no. It couldn’t be. For his silence on the matter of paternity, Valentin had seen fit to keep Cesar Faison and Liesl Obrecht living in luxury. Though his father was not returning phone calls, he thought darkly. That needed to be dealt with.

Valentin fished out his cell and saw the missed calls from his wife back in Port Charles. He’d need a cover story for all of this, he thought. Something that would mollify Nina’s worries.

He’d think on that while he worked on the most important task — decrypting his mother’s files and locating anyone else who could challenge Valentin’s right to hold the Cassadine fortune. He’d earned every penny in his bank accounts, and he’d be damned if he lost it now.

| Chapter 40 →