Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Monk
The room was cold and gray, the kind of place designed to make a man feel small.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly, washed-out glow.
My wrists ached from the cuffs, the metal biting into my skin as I sat chained to the table, waiting.
Time stretched and warped, every second thick with dread.
My mind kept circling back to Lina—her face as the sirens screamed, the way her hands trembled as she reached for me, the tears that streaked down her cheeks. I could still hear her voice, raw and desperate: “Don’t say a word without me.” I clung to that, even as fear gnawed at my insides.
The door opened with a heavy, deliberate creak. I expected O’Rourke. Instead, James Roberts stepped in—my WITSEC handler, the man who haunted the edges of my life for years. He looked at me with a smug, satisfied expression, like he’d just won a game I didn’t even know I was playing.
He sat across from me, folding his hands on the table. “Hello, John,” he said, his voice calm and pleasant, as if we were old friends catching up over coffee.
I stared at him, rage simmering beneath my skin. “You son of a bitch,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous.
Roberts smiled. “I tried to warn you,” he said, his tone almost gentle. “I told you there would be consequences if you didn’t cooperate.”
My hands clenched into fists, the cuffs rattling. “You set me up,” I spat. “You fabricated charges. You—”
“I did what was necessary,” Roberts interrupted, his voice never rising. “You refused to return to WITSEC. You refused to comply with your obligations. You left me no choice.”
I lunged forward, the cuffs yanking me back. Pain shot up my arms, but Roberts didn’t flinch. He just watched me, eyes cold and flat. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” I snarled.
“No, you’re not,” Roberts replied, unbothered. “You’re going to sit there and listen to what I have to say.”
I glared at him, chest heaving.
“I can make this all go away,” Roberts said, his voice smooth as glass. “The charges. The arrest. The investigation. All of it.”
He let the words hang in the air, heavy with threat.
“But only if you agree to return to the WITSEC program,” he continued. “You’ll be relocated. New city. New identity. New life.”
I stared at him, disbelief and fury warring inside me. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
Roberts shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m also the only person who can help you right now.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said, my voice cold.
“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. “Think about what’s at stake.”
“Get the fuck out,” I clipped, my voice rising.
Roberts’ expression hardened. The mask slipped, revealing something colder, more dangerous.
“If you don’t cooperate, I will ensure you spend the rest of your life in prison.
I will make sure the evidence against you is airtight.
I will make sure every witness is credible.
I will make sure the jury convicts you.” He paused, letting the threat settle. “And that’s just the beginning.”
My heart slammed once, hard.
“Your sister, Abigail—she’ll be arrested for drug trafficking. I’ve already prepared the evidence. She’ll go away for years.”
No. Not Abigail.
“And Carolina—she’ll be disbarred. Withholding evidence. Obstruction of justice. Take your pick.”
My hands shook.
“And your daughter, Tatum—she’ll be placed into the child welfare system. Foster care. Bounced from home to home. Never knowing stability. Never knowing safety.”
Each word was a bullet, tearing through me, destroying everything I loved.
“You can’t—” I started.
“I can. And I will.”
He leaned back, satisfied. “So. What’s it going to be, John?”
I stared at him, mind racing. He was bluffing. He had to be bluffing. But what if he wasn’t? What if refusing him meant destroying everyone I loved?
“Go fuck yourself,” I said, my voice shaking.
Roberts’ smile faded. “Wrong answer.”
The door slammed open. Lina stood in the doorway, her briefcase in hand, eyes blazing with fury. “What the fuck is going on?” she demanded.
Roberts turned, his expression shifting back to professional. “This is government business, Ms. Wilcox. You need to leave.”
“Like hell I do.” Lina strode into the room, slamming her briefcase on the table. “My client isn’t saying or agreeing to shit without his lawyer present.”
Roberts stood, hands in his pockets. “Ms. Wilcox, this is a matter of national security. You don’t have clearance—”
“You must be Agent James Roberts.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t give a fuck about your clearance. My client has a constitutional right to counsel. Unless you have a warrant or a court order, you need to stop speaking to him immediately.”
Roberts’ jaw tightened. “This is a federal investigation—”
“I don’t care if it’s a presidential investigation,” Lina snapped. “You’re violating his rights. And if you continue, I will file a motion to suppress every word spoken in this room.”
They stared each other down, the air thick with tension.
Roberts turned to me, his voice soft and dangerous. “Does she know what you and your club did with the body? Because I do. And unless you agree to return to WITSEC, I will make damn sure the police find it.” With that, Roberts left.
Lina’s head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “Monk—what body?”
I closed my eyes. Fuck.
“What the fuck is he talking about?” she demanded.
I opened my eyes, meeting hers, and for the first time in years, I had no idea what to say.