1. Tide
Date: 4-19-2024
Time: 1601
For four years, I have tracked their every move. Four damn years of watching them rip through my best men. Each father, husband, brother, and son were all brought back in the same color. Red .
All the bodies that were left discarded off to the side like trash waiting for pickup mirrored the one that lay motionless in the corner that day. It was destructive, almost careless. It also screamed of her sheer confidence.
I stare at the calendar on my desk, chewing at the end of my cigar. It has been two years since I had the pleasure of meeting her. Yet the only souvenir I have from that day is a small, thick scar on my neck. I could’ve fought harder, I could’ve ended it then and there, but something… I don’t know. Snapped? Clicked?
My perception of her was completely different. Without the blood that coated her clothes or the flicks of ice in her stare, I would’ve said she was just like any other woman. It wasn’t what I expected when I walked into that broken-down building, but I can’t deny that I’m pleased with the outcome. I didn’t mind the busted nose and I sure as hell still don’t mind the scar. It’s motivation, a reminder, that not everyone is what they seem. She is a fascinating product of terror, a living form of destruction.
The paper cracks between my teeth, putting tobacco on my tongue, grounding me in the moment. I rub my thumb against my neck.
Recently I changed our intake papers to only accept nobodies. It’s not that I like working with notorious criminals or randomers off the side of the street, but if that’s what it takes to make sure she doesn’t tear apart another family, then that’s what I’ll do.
The blurred snapshot we captured of her from her last little show sits neatly in my desk drawer, not a disheveled paper near it. I’ve had to rely on my memory for the last two years to recall the gleam that hit her eyes, the slow waves that rolled behind her shoulders reminding me of how the sea kissed the sand, the curves that her tactical gear did little to hide. The way she took my power and wielded it as her own is the most memorable and the most dangerous, both physically and mentally.
Sharkie .
That infuriating callsign rings in my head from the moment I wake to the second I fall asleep. No amount of research will bring me anything other than that name and trust me I’ve done my research. It’s as if she doesn’t exist but I know she does. I felt the warmth of her skin, and I heard her voice.
My father didn’t prepare me for this. I was thrown in the middle of the ocean without a life jacket and expected to swim. It's a good thing facts are a safe space where I know I can think clearly.
Bay is a disorganized group that raged war on the wrong faction. Fact . They’ve created the chaos my father tried to tame. Fact . Their ringleader is notorious for staying in the spotlight. Also, fact. Sharkie is just a pawn. Definitely not .
I need her. I need to find out what’s hiding in those deep blue depths of hers. I need the information being withheld so I can put all the pieces together in my puzzle.
Pulling the cigar from my lips, I hold the smoke, letting the thick cloud taint the flesh inside my cheeks. The rough tobacco coats my tongue, replacing the bitter taste that has stayed there ever since the day I saw that ship try to enter our land.
“Fuckin’ hell...” my words flow out with the white shadow, muffling the clear strain in my voice from biting back a cough. I’ve never liked the stupid things, yet my father’s office is stocked with them. My office .
There’s that bitter taste again.
“Did you say something, sir?” Jasmine’s voice comes from the doorway, completely unmistakable by the strong American accent she carries. We apprehended her while she was on the run for a crime that we have yet to figure out. That point doesn’t quite matter though, because she willingly stayed and agreed to our way of life. Forever bound to protect the sea, no matter the risk. Bay should’ve stuck to protecting the land like they vowed to.
Adrenaline is an odd hormone. Unfortunately, it’s what was coursing through my veins when I arrived back on base that day. Jasmine was just the first person I saw. I’m not one to use employees for pleasure. It’s unethical, and that’s why it’ll never happen again.
“No. Run me through it again.” I demand, holding the edge of authority in my voice despite my want to keep it at bay. I wasn’t always like this, some hollow shell of the man I used to be. Correction— boy I used to be. I shake my head, physically fighting back the images that threaten to cloud my vision.
My father. That soldier. Red .
“All cameras were hacked before she entered. They couldn’t get past most of the hard walls, hence the blurred picture, but they were able to wipe the audio and haze the footage. From what I’ve seen she wasn’t able to gather anything, and it looked like Birdy put up a good fight but…” she trails off as I pinch the end of the stick, crushing it into the stone ashtray, the creaking of the leather chair under me follows the way my body shifts forward.
“But?” I’m almost able to feel the rage flaring beneath my skin. There’s always a ‘but’ in these situations, never a conclusion. I was already having a rough day with Sharkies image seared into the back of my eyelids so any time they close, all I see is her. Jasmine giving me those bloody bedroom eyes again only serves to make matters worse.
I need a holiday, somewhere far away with a cold beer in hand and a woman I’ll never remember sitting on my lap.
That’s a fuckin’ lie and even I know it, because a specific little fish has taken up the remaining space in my head which wasn’t much to begin with because ever since I was thrown into this position, all I have been able to do is gather information and statistics. Keeping myself busy is the only solution until I get my hands on the ones who took everything from me. Only then will I let myself enjoy another woman. That’s if my dick will still work by that point.
I catch myself running an absentminded finger over the bubbled thin slit on my throat again. It probably would have healed better, but I didn’t want it to. I want to remember she was there, in my space, hypnotizing me while she made her mark.
“It just doesn’t make sense Cas—” My clenched fist raising from the desk cut her off before slowly lowering back down onto my knuckles, letting the mahogany wood bite into my skin. No one uses my name. It’s not that I don’t like it, it's the fact that my father took so much pride in naming me after the place where he met my mother. The Caspian Sea. I should miss her as much as I do him, but I was better prepared for her loss. I got to tell her goodbye.
Jasmine picks up on my demeanor, her focus going downcast.
“Sorry sir ... I only meant Birdy was a low rank. A literal sitting duck that they had nothing to gain from. No intel or knowledge of any work we’re doing here. He only specialized in making sure we got our equipment.”
My fingers run through the mess atop my head, disheveling the once chocolate now peppered grey locks. She isn’t wrong; it doesn’t make sense. Then again, I accepted long ago nothing in our predicament has or more than likely ever will.
It still makes me question the motive. When hunting your prey, you follow the tracks. Every predator knows that. So why is my shark taking a detour towards shallow water instead of swimming straight for me in the deep?
If she’s not afraid to face grown-ass men, then what’s keeping her from storming my base? I’ve given every opportunity possible ranging from a literal invitation—I know it was stupid, but I was young—to giving the guards holiday for a solid month just to see if she’d attempt a breach. Yet she sneaks around the bay and doesn’t go any further, sending minions into my territory instead of herself. I don’t know what her game is, but I do know I want her to find me.
I flick my gaze back to the small photo once more, dismissing Jasmine’s statement with a waft of my hand, not letting my eyes waver from the intense stare down I’m having with the glossy piece of paper. “Let me know if we get any leads or new movements.”
“Can we talk?” The flick of her tongue through her words has my teeth on edge. This is exactly why business and pleasure should never be mixed. I’m surprised my teeth haven’t chipped from how hard I grind them anytime she’s around yet. Sam owes me one.
I look over the blurred photo once more before slamming the drawer. I’ll re-memorize every detail later, but right now I have more pressing matters.
“No. You’re dismissed.”
Her lashes flutter in shock before narrowing in my direction. Whoever let her train and climb ranks in my base was a goddamn idiot. I groan, trying to suppress the unwarranted anger. Sam’s not an idiot, but he sure acts like one when it comes to her.
The door slams behind her rage-fueled fit and I'm left alone to tap my fingers against my chest, counting each thump as the pads connect to my olive green button-down. I mindlessly repeat the motion until I’m able to match my heart rate to the rhythm, slow and controlled. I’ve done everything to lead this girl to me from the moment I woke up in the middle of a concrete room with nothing but a corpse beside me.
“Bloody hell...”
I’ve been looking in the wrong direction just as she’s been swimming the wrong way. Each key from the board clicks under my fingers as I pull up file after file. Numerous images pop up, ranging from blurred shots around the area we presume Bay is located across the ocean, to a few clear publicity images on American newspapers and websites. All talking about ‘how good Bay is for the country and soon the world.’ She’s not in a single one, just as expected.
One man is familiar to my eyes. I’ve scrolled through countless videos of his deep southern accent talking to the press and I’ve sorted through thousands of classified files that always have his name linked somewhere in them. Dutton . He’s like an illness that just keeps spreading and spreading—everywhere all the time, right in the public eye ‘fulfilling the late dreams of his beloved best friends’.
Quickly shaking my head, I press the button on the side of my walkie, “I need all the details on Dutton Stabler now!”
I pause, thinking, before pressing the button again, “And not the same shit you idiots bring me every time. I need something new.” It’s an impossible ask, considering we’ve raked every database and have already gained every sliver of information about his life—going back to the day he was born, even into his family tree. Nothing makes sense. Not his role, not the way he gained his rank, and most importantly, not a damn thing makes sense about his connection to my little obsession.
I scan the screen as the static continues through the walkie-talkie, my head reeling with any memory I can think of where my father may have mentioned the man or any relevance he had to the entire ordeal.
I know someone heard me, so why am I not getting a damn response? Silence is never a good sign. It’s more of a signal to get my arse in gear when all my body itches to do is just peek that drawer back open, even if it’s only for a moment.
Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and head towards the door. I know my little shark is more than a walking weapon and if I want to win then I need her. But the only way to get to her is through him.
My footsteps thump off the concrete walls, creating the sound of a steady drumbeat. To others, it’s more than likely a signal for impending doom. I used to wander these same halls with a smile, never realizing the extent of what they held within. If they could speak, I’m sure they’d have some stories to tell, some of which would likely aid us out the shit storm we are in.
Rounding the corner I collide into my younger brother, Moe. Tilting my head, I try to crack the tension out of my neck while he squints up at me.
“I was just comin’ to get ya, Cas!” He nervously pushes a hand into his already bedraggled red hair. For someone stuck in a pissin’ hellhole, he’s always enthusiastic to be here. I shake my head, willing my thoughts into a straight line and pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose.
“What now?” I feel my impatience growing fast. I have important things to get to and I swear if I don’t catch my shark soon, I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind.
He senses my urgency, turning around and silently leading me to whatever the fuck was requiring my attention.
The smell of stale air starts to cloud my senses as he guides the way toward our underground holding cells. Chills wrack my spine from the temperature drop, the damp thickening around me so much I could feel it caress my skin.
“Can you do me a favor and use your words to tell me what the bloody hell we’re doing?” I say under my breath. My tone makes him smooth back his flaming hair, avoiding eye contact and striding in front of me.
“Um—well…” I can feel his anxiety wiggling its way into my chest, spreading from his body to mine. My hand goes to my abdomen, thrumming methodically against the fabric while I calm my breathing.
“I’m just stressed.” I say, somewhat apologetically. He nods in response, but honestly, I don’t know if he believes me. He’s used to this side, but it never makes me feel any less guilty for my annoyance lashing at him. Out of everyone on the base, I’m almost positive he’s the only one who’s recognized my change in the last two years.
“I don’t know. Sam said he couldn’t find what you were looking for but… to come get you and he thinks someone down here could help… or somethin’.”
My eyes roll on their own accord. Teenagers . Was I like this at one point? Unable to create a sentence with any real detail?
We stop outside the door, Sam’s voice audible even through the metal-casing. Realizing where we are, I place my hand on Moe’s shoulder, urging him off. He doesn’t need to be down here.
Once he’s up the steps, I turn towards the haunting entrance, listening to the muffled sound of Sam’s booming demands. Most of the rooms down this corridor are cells. This one, however, is my favorite. The interrogation room. Keeping anger and frustration pent up all the time makes you feel as if there’s a monster inside your body desperately trying to claw its way out, uncaring of the muscle it rips or the bones it breaks. It’s easy to keep it tightly wrapped in skin for some time, but a wild animal can only be caged for so long before it starts to gnaw through the bars of its enclosure. I pull out my keycard, waiting for the flashing light to turn green on the handle. Sometimes it’s best to set it free, even if it’s only for a moment.
In this room, I can do exactly that.
David has been a guest here for almost four months now. Captured after he tried to play undercover and infiltrate our base. It’s a pity that Bay sends these men and women, but never the one I need. He almost succeeded, if I’m being quite honest. A false lead had distracted me towards our shark. I’m glad I didn’t put a bullet in him when I had the chance because it turns out he’s quite useful.
“I don’t fuckin’—” the door slams behind, cutting David off as I round the metal chair that Sam’s cuffed him to. His nose is already broken judging by its shape, each blood drop soaked down his shirt with splatter on the walls and smears over Sam's knuckles. Yet another damn mess to clean up.
“What do you know about Dutton?’’ I’m sure Sam’s already asked him, but it’s obvious he wasn’t getting answers. Taking my time, I unclasp the cuffs from my sleeves and start to roll them. “I need more information about him.” I lean into the table, crossing my feet. I hear the spit before it even lands by my combat boot. Disrespectful . Whoever raised this sod didn’t teach him any manners.
It doesn’t take long for the sound of my knuckles clattering against his teeth to draw out a chilling laugh that echoes in the space. Sam always took delight in watching me do some dirty work. It takes a lot to get me physically involved.
Just like most in the base, I had pulled him—for a price—from a prison a few miles north, arrested for more than eight counts of murder after being honorably discharged from Chaos. His dirty blonde, disheveled hair and wide eyes gives him almost an innocent look, but I know what power lies beneath. I’d put my life in his hands.
“I take it this is gonna be a long night.” Sam mutters under his breath.
He’s right. I’ll break every bone in this twats body until I get my answer. If he fails, I’ll find another source and do the same. Whatever it takes for me to catch my shark and end this war. I never wanted this life, but now that it’s mine and I won’t stop until I succeed. I need to know what the fuck is missing in my layout.
I nod nonchalantly, throwing another punch into David’s jaw for good measure, relishing in the pained groan that rattles his chest. Wrapping my hand into his shirt, I stabilize his body and raise my fist in preparation for another blow, but a delicate knock thumps the door, followed by a buzz that turns both mine and Sam’s heads in that direction.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your—” Jasmine lifts her head momentarily, her gaze lingering on Sam. “ Meeting . I just wanted to remind you about your… eh, appointment?”
Sam scoffs and shifts on his feet, clearly getting antsy. Jasmine squints in his direction, mimicking the sound.
“We’ll make this quick, then.” Sam answers as I catch the motion of Jasmine’s freshly painted maroon nails clacking against the metal barrier. My hand flexes then curls into a tight ball over the open air as a bead of sweat creates a slow trail down my back. It’s quiet, but so loud at the same time. Jasmine flicks her gaze to my fist, drawing me to do the same. Each knuckle white, protruding and lightly coated with blood.
God, I fuckin’ hate red.