Chapter 14
Tell Me What You Know
Astrid Mathieson
The stench of antiseptic and industrial cleaner hits me the moment I walk through GUIDE headquarters' main entrance—a sharp, clinical bite that burns the nostrils and coats the tongue.
After all these years, I still haven't gotten used to it.
That sterile mask desperately trying to cover what we really do here.
Hunt. Kill. Contain. Three words that define everything about this place, and everything I've become.
My muscles still ache slightly from the fall into the sinkhole, phantom pain lingering where my femur punched through skin just two days ago. The fact that I'm walking normally now would raise serious questions if anyone knew, but they don't. Just another secret to add to my collection.
That strange electrical sensation that's been haunting me for days has faded to a gentle hum beneath my skin—still there, but muted by distance, like a radio station going out of range. It's strongest when I think about Missouri. About the wolf with golden eyes who knew my name.
"Blades!"
Ghost's voice cuts through my thoughts as he intercepts me in the hallway, his split lip from the chimera encounter still healing. Dark circles rim his eyes, but he smiles when he sees me. A real smile. The kind that reaches his eyes. The only person in this building I actually trust. Almost.
He’s moving very carefully. Deliberately. Injured more than he’s letting on.
"You look like shit," I tell him, not unkindly.
"And yet, you do not," he returns with a grin, falling into step beside me. "How's your mom?"
"Safe. Pissed at me for making her leave, but safe." I completely ignore the comment about how I don’t look like I was just in a life or death fight. "Any updates on the chimeras?"
His expression shifts, discomfort flickering across his features. "Nothing new. Hayes is waiting for your report on the wolf stuff that went down at your mom’s before deciding next steps."
Something in his tone makes me stop. "What aren't you telling me?"
Ghost hesitates, glancing around the corridor. "Hayes is... not happy. The chimeras were already designated as our team's permanent assignment, and then you went after that wolf by yourself—"
"It showed up in my mother's backyard," I cut in, heat rising in my chest. If Hayes pulls me completely off the case, I lose my only chance to find the thing that killed my father.
Years of searching, and now the only solid lead I've had might slip through my fingers because of bureaucratic bullshit.
"I know that." He taps his chest. "But Hayes sees it differently. Just... be prepared, okay?"
Over his shoulder, I spot Sherlock watching us from across the room, his expression unreadable. His gaze doesn't shift when I make eye contact—not even the courtesy to pretend he wasn't staring. The conversation I overheard between him and Hayes replays in my mind.
"She moves differently... No one is that lucky... Look at these inconsistencies..."
A text notification comes through.
Hayes: My office. Now.
My stomach tightens, but I keep my expression neutral. Perfect timing. At least this gets me away from Sherlock's laser focus. One predator at a time.
"Duty calls," I tell Ghost, already moving toward the elevators. "Keep me posted if anything changes with the chimeras. They're still our case."
I can feel Sherlock's eyes boring into my back as I walk away, analyzing, cataloging, searching for the cracks in my human facade. I straighten my spine and quicken my pace. The sooner I deal with Hayes, the sooner I can get back to what matters.
Hayes' office occupies the northeast corner of the fourteenth floor, with bulletproof windows offering a panoramic view of the city. His space, like his methods tend to be elevated, protected, and designed to see everything while revealing nothing.
He stands behind his desk when I enter, back to the door, hands clasped behind him in that military posture he never fully shed after leaving the Marines.
"Sir." I keep my voice neutral, professional.
He turns, eyes hard as granite. "Agent Mathieson. I've reviewed your preliminary report on the Missouri incident." He taps the tablet on his desk. "It's surprisingly thin on details."
"I lost the trail in the rain. Not much to report."
"A massive wolf shifter appears less than fifty miles from your mother's house, kills a bear, gets spotted by civilians, then vanishes without a trace?" His eyebrow arches. "And all you have to say is 'lost the trail in the rain'?"
I maintain eye contact, my expression carefully blank. "Yes, sir. It was moving toward a body of water in pouring-down rain."
Inside, my heart races and my palms itch with sweat.
I'm lying to the man who controls my career, my access to the chimera case, my future at GUIDE.
But what choice do I have? Tell him the truth—that I stood face-to-face with a creature that should have ripped me apart but instead saved me?
That I might have more in common with that wolf than I have with Hayes?
"Let's cut the bullshit." Hayes leans forward, palms flat on his desk. "I specifically ordered you to focus on the chimeras. I explicitly denied your request for reassignment to the wolf case. Yet somehow, you end up in Missouri pursuing the very creature I told you to leave to Team Echo."
"It showed up in my mother's backyard while I was there!" The words burst out before I can stop them. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore a Class Three entity threatening my family?"
"You were supposed to call in Echo team and provide support, not go rogue." His voice remains level, which somehow makes it worse. "Instead, you pursued it alone, without backup, without proper equipment. And you let it get away."
The injustice of it burns in my throat. I didn't let it get away.
It saved my life and chose to leave. But I can't say that.
Can't explain why a creature that should have killed me didn't. Can't reveal that I survived a fall that would have killed any normal human.
Each secret is a tightrope. One wrong word and everything collapses.
"Now," Hayes continues, "the chimeras that have killed eleven people, including two GUIDE teams, remain at large—your primary assignment—while you've created an incident report that reads like a rookie's first field operation."
"Sir, with all due respect—"
"You're on desk duty," he cuts me off. "Seventy-two hours minimum. And you'll report to Dr. Carrow for psychological evaluation before I even consider putting you back in the field with your team on the chimera case at all."
A chill runs through me at the mention of Dr. Carrow.
The psychological evaluation feels like walking into a minefield blindfolded.
One wrong word, one misplaced reaction, and she'll see through me.
Dr. Lila Carrow doesn't miss details. It's why GUIDE hired her.
If anyone could spot what I'm hiding, it would be her.
And what then? Would I become the hunted instead of the hunter?
My hands clench at my sides. "The chimeras are my case. I've been tracking them since Rome." My case, my lead, my vengeance, my purpose.
And now it could all slip away. The one thread connecting me to my father's murder, the one mission that's kept me focused all these years despite the secrets I carry. Without this case, I'm just another agent with too many questions and nowhere to put them.
"And you'll continue to do so, but from a desk, analyzing data, while temporary replacements work in the field." His tone makes it clear this isn't negotiable. "Consider it the consequence of disobeying direct orders."
"This is bullshit and you know it." The words slip out, sharp with frustration. "I'm the best chance we have of catching those chimeras."
"Then you should have stayed focused on them instead of chasing a wolf shifter." He slides a folder across the desk. "The psych department is expecting you in fifteen minutes."
I take the folder and leave, not bothering to hide my burning rage.
I pace the empty conference room, fury and frustration building with each step.
Desk duty, when I should be in the field.
Psychological evaluation, when my mind is sharper than ever.
Temporary replacements, when I've spent years tracking these creatures.
All while the chimeras continue their killing spree.
All while the only lead to my father's murder grows colder.
My phone buzzes with a text from Sanderson: Your mom arrived at her sister’s safely.
At least that's something. I check the most recent reports from Missouri.
No new wolf sightings in the last twenty-four hours.
The beast has gone underground, or left the area entirely.
Relief loosens the knot between my shoulders, even as I can't shake the memory of those intelligent golden eyes, or the gentleness when it carried me out of the sinkhole. Safe. For now.
It could have killed me. Should have killed me. Instead, it helped me. And now I'm being punished for failing to kill it.
The irony is almost too much. A monster saving me while my human colleagues watch me like a threat. Every day I hunt creatures like myself, wearing a human mask, following human orders. Who's the real monster in this equation? The wolf that saved a life, or the organization that demands its death?
Nothing in my training, nothing in GUIDE's entire philosophy, explains that.
We're taught that magickal creatures are threats to be neutralized.
Beings that don't belong in our world. Yet I'm one of them.
And that wolf, whatever it is, showed more mercy than many humans I've known.
Perhaps some monsters wear badges, and some saviors wear fur.
The intercom chimes overhead: "Agent Mathieson to Psychological Services Desk. Agent Mathieson to Psychological Services Desk."