Chapter 25 Matthews
I stride down a dim office corridor lined with doors.
A halo of light frames the door at the end.
They’re already inside, waiting for me. My hand hesitates over the handle.
I take in a deep breath, compose myself, and enter the room.
Besides the single desk and two chairs, it’s empty, as if it’s been set up for this one, brief meeting.
The hum of the air-conditioner fills the silence, blowing stale air thick with mildew into my face.
I don’t recognize the bald man sitting behind the generic metal desk.
They change seasonally. But they always hire different versions of the same suit—old, clueless men, forever in a hurry and wanting the job done yesterday.
“Sit,” he orders, gesturing to the metal chair in front of his desk.
I sit, placing a hand on either knee. I keep my body relaxed, ensuring I don’t fidget or adjust my position. The neutral expression I slipped on in the corridor remains in place, a familiar mask slowly melding to my face these past twelve months.
“I’m informed you had the opportunity to catch your targets, yet you were unsuccessful?” His mouth twitches, and he peers at me over the top of his glasses.
“The correspondence from your department wasn’t clear,” I reply, matching his stare with a trained intensity.
“Apparently not,” the man says. “Do you have anything further to report?”
“No. As I’ve mentioned to your colleagues, these meetings not only waste time, but compromise our position.”
“I will be the one to decide what is, and what is not, a waste of time. Have you forgotten what’s at stake?”
There’s something about this man, perhaps his quiet air of authority, his linguistic style, that screams power with minimal exertion, and has me leaning back in my chair. The metal chills my spine. “No,” I answer.
“I’m pulling you from this case. We need results, and you’ve failed to provide any. Your time will be better spent here.”
“What? No.” I jerk forward, my facade momentarily slipping before I school it back into place.
I’ve spent twelve months eating, sleeping, and living this case.
I’ve sacrificed everything in my life for it.
They can’t let me go yet. A bead of sweat runs down my temple.
“That would be a mistake. The targets are close. I just need more time.”
The man folds his hands together and rests them on the table with an air of boredom. “Your time is up.”
“I have a new lead.” I’d hoped to keep this information to myself, but I can’t be dropped from this case.
The man raises his eyebrows. “Withholding such information is a breach of contract. Why are you only reporting this now?”
“I was looking into it when I received your correspondence. If I’m correct, I hope to have the case closed within a few months.”
The man stares at me for a moment. “What lead?”
I clench my hands into fists.
“Don’t waste my time, boy,” the man says through gritted teeth.
“I’ve been tracking a member of Alpha… in the past.”
“Why?” the man demands.
I swallow, but it gets caught in my throat. “I believe the others have communicated with her and will again soon.”
“You haven’t been stupid enough to make contact?” he asks, eyes bulging.
I square my shoulders, keeping my tone light. “Of course not.”
The man stands. “You have two months, and if Parker and Rose aren’t dead, the deal’s off. Now get out of my sight.”
I get up and walk toward the doorway, my heart slamming against my rib cage.
“Wait,” the man calls. “Which Alpha are you tracking?”
I force my breathing to steady, but bile rises in my throat. “Mariella Adams.”