Written in 53 minutes.

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Mykonos, Greece

So much of that insane trek through the woods on the island felt like a fever dream. Elizabeth scarcely remembered the cottage that had set at the edge of the clearing—there had only been stabbing pain and sweet joy of seeing her little boy for the moment before the world had gone insane.

Now, Jake and her boys were thousand of miles away, safe and sound, tucked away at Greystone with Sonny’s security keeping them in one piece. She stood here in the bedroom where Jake had lived for most of the two years he’d been gone.

The room looked like any other boy’s—the bed was a messy twin, with a tan comforter, pushed back as if who ever had been sleeping in it last had shoved it away and rolled out of bed without a second thought.

There were toys strewn across the floor, including a little red motorcycle. Elizabeth found it on the shelf and picked it up.

“Elizabeth?”

“This is Jake’s.”

Jason frowned, and came over to look at it. “I thought— I gave this to Cameron,” he murmured, taking it from her.

“I know. There’s a scratch from when Cameron crashed it into the fireplace.” Elizabeth ran her fingernail over the thin mar in the paint. “He gave it to Jake that last Christmas. Jake loved to play with it. I—I put it at his grave. The day the stone—” She closed her eyes. “They took this from his grave and brought it to Greece.”

She clutched the motorcycle to her chest. “The next time I went back, I thought—I just thought it was lost or that someone stole it—or that—but it was here. All this time—he was here—” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force down the waves of pain that radiated from everywhere.

“And he had something from his brother the whole time,” Jason reminded her. “This—” He tapped the handlebar. “Jake had part of me and Cam with him. Nikolas kept Cameron in his head, and Jake never forgot his brother. Or you.”

“Or you.” Elizabeth exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I just— I look around this room—and I’m trying to be grateful that Jake was treated well. That even his own twisted way, Stavros loved him. That’s—that’s better. And he’s young. Kevin Collins said he doesn’t see any of the same behaviors they saw in Lucky. No memory lapses. Nothing. He’s perfect.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that the Cassadines stole those years from us,” Jason said. “From you. Jake should have been with you and his brothers. Not here. We never should have had to buy a grave or a stone with his name on it.”

“Laura warned me about wanting revenge,” Elizabeth murmured, “but it’s all I can think about. I left my boys at home so I could hunt down the woman who did this. I could live with the WSB going after the rest of the Cassadines, you know? Mikkos, Valentin—that’s their problem. But Helena—”

She stared at the motorcycle. “I want to know where Nikolas is, I want to know what the hell the other Cassadines have planned—the world needs to be safe from them, and I meant what I said—I can’t bear for them to come back one day. But if we can get rid of Helena—” She met his eyes. “The boys could be safer with her gone.

“Then we’ll find Helena and we’ll kill her,” Jason said simply. “Let’s search the rest of the cottage to see if Nikolas left anything for you.”

Two hours of taking the cottage apart, of searching every nook and cranny—even the mattresses once Jason had slit them open with the switch blade he had in his back pocket—

There was nothing.

Elizabeth sighed. “Maybe he just didn’t have time,” she murmured. “Is he dead? Did Stavros—”

“I thought so, too,” Jason admitted, “but now that we’re here—now that I’m looking at the island again with a clearer head—I don’t think so. Stavros wasn’t that far behind us. Maybe two or three minutes. If he’d killed Nikolas, he wouldn’t have time to deal with the body.”

“So he went to set the explosions instead?” Elizabeth asked. “Why hasn’t he gotten in touch? It’s been a week. Longer than—”

“I don’t know.” They left the cottage and headed back towards the main estate—the ruins of the old Gothic castle that seemed so out of place on a Mediterranean castle.

“I hope they’re having better luck with the tunnels,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her arms. “Who ever set those explosions knew what they were doing.”

“Not enough to make sure that everyone was dead.” Jason squinted, stopping in the field a few hundred yards away from the estate. He turned back to look out over the horizon here were blue waters of the Aegean sparkled against the sun.

“What are you thinking?”

“That day was a lot,” he said. “We landed here early in the morning,” he continued. “You were stabbed by nine—”

“And we were on our way to the island by four.”

“Stavros was minutes behind us,” Jason repeated. “But that whole confrontation in the woods—it was less than five minutes. I put you down, started to rewrap your wound—” He squinted. “Then Stavros was there, and I didn’t even get a chance to think before you shot him.”

“Sorry if I stole your thunder,” she said with a raised brow. He shook his head.

“No, I mean, it was fast. We were on that beach minutes after Laura left. And it felt like forever,” he admitted, “but Anna was there in another ten. We were on this island for maybe thirty minutes. Ten minutes to the cottage, ten minutes back, and ten minutes in between for everything else. And it might not have been that long.”

“Okay—”

“And look—we’re walking from the cottage—and we’re still, what—half a mile from the house? Even if he was running—Where did Robert say the bombs were set?” Jason turned his attention back to the crumbling remains.

“On the far side of the island, near the marine, and in the center of the house. But we don’t know if they were detonated manually or—” She paused. “But if Nikolas went to set the bombs, it would be manually. Not remote.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about the time line that doesn’t make sense. If it was remotely, Nikolas could have come with us and set the bombs from the boat. If it was manual, he might have had enough time to get to the house but barely. The estate exploded when we go to the airport. The airport is five minutes from the pier.”

“So we’re saying that twenty minutes after after Nikolas brought Jake to us, the house exploded,” Elizabeth said slowly. She looked back at the cottage—it was a mile from the house. With adrenaline— “How fast can you do mile?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” Jason admitted. “Twelve if I push it. It’s not something I have to do much.”

“And you’re in better shape than Nikolas. Could he have—” She folded her arms. “We thought Stefan set one of the bombs. Maybe he set the one down at the marina to stop the guards from getting on the boats.”

“Maybe,” Jason said slowly, “or maybe the people at the house knew about the breach—” He turned to look at Elizabeth. “And knew that we’d be distracted by looking for bodies.”

“Oh.” She hissed. “You think the Cassadines blew up the damn estate themselves to get away from the WSB.”

“Which means they knew about the bombs being set and where they were.”

“Let’s get back to the house and talk to Robert and Laura.”

Bryanka, Ukraine

The woman crept through the door, closing it behind her, and breathing a sigh of relief. She’d made it to the rendezvous. Now it was time to regroup—

“What did you do to my boy?”

She paused as the voice behind her echoed in the empty room of the small house. A match was struck—and the room was dimly lit. She turned to find a candle in the middle of a beaten up and scratched table had been lit, and a man sat at table.

Helena Cassadine’s lips curved into a smile as she took in the presence of her oldest—and dearest—enemy. “Well, Luke Spencer, just when you think a man can’t surprise you anymore.”

“What,” Luke said, leaning forward, the candle’s flame illuminating his cold, dark blue eyes and the rage lit within, did you do to my boy?”

“What did I do to the precious Lucas Lorenzo Spencer, Junior?” Helena murmured, pausing deliberately on each word of the name. “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie!” Luke roared, lunging to his feet.

“Well, I’ve done nothing new,” Helena insisted, amused by his reaction. “It’s hardly my fault if you didn’t notice all the differences over the years. You tried to undo all my hard work, my dear, but his mind had been changed—”

“No, no, he was okay—he was my boy again—!”

“Was he?” Helena raised her brows. “Well, perhaps you were satisfied. Others clearly weren’t. How is Elizabeth? Has she recovered? I look forward to seeing her. We have unfinished business—and Laura—”

“Too long,” Luke said, “too long I’ve let you go after my family. I thought it was amusing to play with you, to toy with you. I should have gutted you the first time you put your hands on my son.”

“But you didn’t, and here we are—” Helena sighed. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“Sometimes, Mother—” Helena whirled around as another man bled out of the shadows. Her eyes bulged as Stefan stepped into the dim light of the candle. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“No—no—” She turned to Luke, then back to Stefan. “You—you were part of it. I brought you back! I put you under my control! You were chipped—”

“I was,” Stefan murmured, “but I’m not anymore. Where is Father? He should have been with you.”

Drawing herself up regally, Helena lifted her chin, a woman who knew her time was running out. “You don’t know everything.”

“True.” Stefan flicked his eyes to Luke. “I’ll find him, but she’s all yours.”

Helena looked away from the eternal disappointment of her youngest son—she should have strangled him in the cradle. He’d never measure up to either his brother or father. “I’m surprised you came alone, Luke. No Elizabeth or Laura? I would have thought they’d be eager to finish me off.”

“They are. And so is Jason Morgan. You didn’t think that through, Hells,” Luke said, cracking his first grin. “That is a man you do not fuck with.”

“I’m alive so far—”

“I considered trussing you like a Christmas goose to deliver at my angel’s feet—to let Laura and Elizabeth decide what to do with you after what you’ve done to them.”

“That sounds like a fair thing to go. And they’re quite capable of dealing with me—”

“Oh, no doubt,” Luke said, “I think you’d be surprised by the streak of coldness that runs in Elizabeth’s veins. She’d probably slit your throat and bathe in the blood.”

Helena pressed her lips together. “How can you deny them that chance?”

“It’s simple.” Luke drew out a gun from the inside of her jacket, and her pulse started to race. “I know they could do it. I know they could end you and sleep like babies afterward. I just don’t see why they should have to when I can save them the trouble.”

“You always did monologue too much, Spencer,” Stefan said dryly.

“You never did appreciate the show,” Luke shot back. He focused on Helena. “I’m done asking Laura and Elizabeth do my dirty work.” He aimed the gun, then pulled the trigger.

The bullet exploded a hole in the front of Helena’s head—her elegant features destroyed in an instant as her lifeless body dropped to the floor.

Luke stared down at it, feeling nothing as the old woman’s blood seeped out, what was left of one eye remaining open. “Let them bring you back from that.”

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