Chapter Fourteen #2
“Because assassins don’t deal with the agency directly.
Everything goes through our handler.” Flint grabbed Arrow’s hand, tugging him toward the path that led to Cyrus’s workshop.
“If anyone in the agency shows up asking questions, Cyrus needs to know about it first. He’s the one who manages our contracts and our relationship with the agency. ”
Arrow let himself be pulled along, his mind still churning. “I didn’t think about that. I’ve never worked with handlers before.”
“Most agents don’t.” Flint glanced back at him. “The field divisions operate differently from cybercrimes. We’re not technically agency employees - we’re independent contractors. Cyrus negotiates our jobs, handles the money, deals with all the bureaucratic bullshit so we don’t have to.”
They passed the grill pit where Storm and Devon were prepping for dinner, then cut through the trees toward Cyrus’s workshop.
Arrow had walked the route dozens of times over the past three weeks, usually for shared meals or trips to the bakery, but never for…
Arrow didn’t even know what he could call it.
All he knew was that Patterson was trying to fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.
His wolf growled in agreement, teeth bared and hackles raised. Arrow had spent a decade playing by the agency’s rules, following orders, and building a reputation. And in three weeks of living in the Alley, he’d learned what actually mattered.
Patterson could file all the complaints he wanted, but Arrow wasn’t going anywhere. I fucking quit, damn it.
They emerged from the trees to find Cyrus’s workshop, the familiar building with its bay doors and hand-painted sign. Python’s Maserati was parked out front next to Cyrus’s truck.
Flint didn’t bother knocking. He just pushed open the back door and called out, “Cyrus? You got a minute?”
“In the office,” Cyrus’s voice drifted from the back.
They found Cyrus and Python in the small office that served as both a break room and an administrative hub. Cyrus sat at the desk with a laptop open in front of him, while Python lounged on the worn couch, reading a car magazine.
“What’s wrong?” Cyrus asked immediately, his bear rumbling just beneath the surface. “You smell stressed.”
Flint squeezed Arrow’s hand. “Arrow got a call from his old work partner. His former supervisor filed a complaint with upper management in the agency, claiming Arrow was abducted and coerced into staying here.”
Python’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
“Patterson - that’s the supervisor - has convinced himself that Flint is blackmailing me or forcing me to stay here against my will.” Arrow’s claws pricked at his fingertips again. “He’s told someone in upper management that the assassin division is holding me hostage.”
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve heard all week,” Python said flatly. “And I watched Storm try to convince Pax that strawberries were technically a vegetable yesterday.”
Cyrus ignored Python’s commentary, his attention fixed on Arrow. “Do you think anyone will actually investigate?”
“Jack seemed to think so. Patterson has a few friends in high places, and Jack got the impression someone was taking his complaint seriously.” Arrow rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t know what they’ll do. Show up asking questions, maybe.
Or try to pull Flint in for questioning about what he does. ”
“Over my dead body,” Flint said quietly. “If we’re on agency business, we don’t answer to anybody - that’s the whole point of what we do.”
“No one’s questioning anyone.” Cyrus closed his laptop with a decisive click.
“Flint’s right. That is not how things are done in the agency, and never has been.
No one there would be stupid enough to harass my people without going through me first. That’s literally what the handler system exists for. ”
“Patterson doesn’t seem to care about protocol,” Arrow warned. “He’s always been vindictive, but this is extreme even for him. According to Jack, I embarrassed him when I quit, and now he’s lashing out.”
Python set down his magazine. “So we embarrass him back. Make him look like the unhinged asshole he is.”
“How?” Flint asked.
“Easy.” Python’s smile turned predatory.
“Cyrus contacts the agency brass and explains that a rogue supervisor from cybercrimes is harassing one of his contracted assassins and his legally claimed mate. We point out that Arrow quit of his own free will, handed in his badge, and hasn’t had contact with Patterson since.
Then we politely suggest that if Patterson continues this harassment, we’ll file our own complaint about a supervisor abusing his position to stalk former employees. ”
Cyrus nodded slowly. “That could work, in fact, coming from you, that’s almost civilized. Well done, hon. The agency doesn’t like internal drama spilling over into other divisions. If we frame this as Patterson being the problem instead of us, they’ll shut him down to avoid the headache.”
“You think they’ll actually listen?” Arrow asked.
“They will when I remind them how many high-value contracts we’ve completed for them over the years.” Cyrus’s expression hardened. “And when I point out that harassing my team over bullshit accusations is a great way to lose their best sniper.”
Flint shifted beside Arrow, pride and affection flooding through their bond. Arrow tightened his grip on his mate’s hand.
“I don’t want to cause problems for you,” Arrow said quietly. “Any of you. This is my mess…”
“No,” Flint interrupted. “It’s Patterson’s mess. You didn’t do anything wrong except find your mate and choose happiness over a shitty job with an even shittier boss.”
“Flint’s right.” Cyrus stood, moving around the desk. “You’re part of this family now, Arrow. Which means we protect you the same way we protect each other. Patterson wants to start a war over hurt feelings? Fine. But he’s going to lose.”
Python stretched like a cat. “I could always pay him a visit. Demons are very persuasive.”
“That sounds more like the demon I know and love, but no threatening agency personnel,” Cyrus said, but he sounded more amused than serious. “Not yet.”
“Spoilsport.” Python examined his nails. “Though I suppose the official route is less fun but more effective.”
Arrow looked between the three of them. Three months ago, the only person Arrow had to handle any hassles was himself.
He would never think to ask for help because he saw it as a weakness.
But the men in the Alley didn’t work like that - a problem for one was a problem for all of them, and they’d all rally round and protect each other.
“Thank you,” Arrow said, coughing quickly to clear the lump in his throat. “All of you. For...for having my back.”
“Always,” Flint said simply.
Cyrus pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the agency director now.
Get ahead of this before Patterson can do any more damage.
” He paused, meeting Arrow’s eyes. “And just so we’re clear - you’re welcome to stay in the Alley as long as you want.
You don’t work for the agency anymore. You don’t owe them shit. ”
Arrow nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
Cyrus stepped out of the office, phone already pressed to his ear. Python rose from the couch, patting Arrow’s shoulder as he passed.
“Don’t worry about it,” the demon said. “Patterson’s about to learn a very important lesson about fucking with this family.”
Then it was just Arrow and Flint in the small office, the sounds of Cyrus’s conversation filtering through the doorway.
“You okay?” Flint asked softly.
Arrow pulled him close, burying his face in Flint’s hair and breathing in the scent of clean sweat, fresh-cut grass, and home.
“Yeah,” he said. “I am now.”