Chapter 2

Gage’s POV

“Matthews, Katherine. Bookkeeper, to be exact. Contains top-notch evidence refuting The Creed. Proof that the Boyeger Corporation is secretly operating as ‘The Creed’ can be found in their stock holdings, several futures contracts, and other financial dealings,” I read out loud.

“That’s still something that needs to be proven?” Her final comment made me snicker.

Ryan Boyeger was widely acknowledged as the organization’s leader. Their money and stomachs were under a nondisclosure agreement because they invested so much in Boyeger stocks.

“Our goal is to finally resolve this legal dispute. The prosecution has been working tirelessly, but their efforts have yielded no results; that is, until Monday when Kate said she had discovered information regarding Boyeger’s funds that ‘could link them pretty directly with The Creed,’” Amanda provided more detail. “All she wants is a testimony from the FBI for her ignorance.”

“The law makes no allowance for lack of knowledge,” I said, gnawing on a toothpick.

“Bring it up in court, and the judge will address it. I don’t care about that at all.” She laughed briefly, and then her expression returned to its serious business attitude. “Gage, you’ve got to keep an eye on her. Please be her guardian angel till the hearing date arrives. Bring her back from wherever she may have gone, and keep her safe at the safe home until the hearing time. Okay?”

“In light of what I know now,” I replied, “I don’t see anything that heightens my chance of dying when I’m executing the directives.” I pressed my lips together to extract the imaginary woody liquid from the toothpick. Amanda got slightly irritated when I did it, but I kept doing it until she told me to stop.

“Hear me out. People would rather believe that the most violent cartel in the United States does not exist and that you are tasked with protecting a witness from them. How much doom do you see?” Her head shook in disapproval. When she put it that way, well… I just shrugged.

“If you want to succeed,” she continued, “you’ll need a team.”

“No, I won’t.” I retorted before she could say anything else.

“I’m afraid you do. I’m sending in two Deltas and a special operations group,” she argued back.

“If there is danger, you’re sending more guys to their deaths and more people into my care. I do all my job by myself,” I growled back.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” When she expressed worry, I rolled my eyes. Even though she had no obligation to, she always watched out for me.

“Is there anything else I need to know at this point? I’m going to get up and leave right now,” I changed the subject, not wanting to hear any more of her concerns.

“Yes. Put down the toothpick. You know that it irritates me.”

“I really didn’t think you’d ask,” I teased her.

“Remember that…” she suddenly stopped as if recalling what she wanted to say. “Try not to die, Gage… and don’t come back without her.” She did a fake shrug to show her disinterest.

“Yes, ma’am. And once I’m done, you’ll have to give me a big hug.” As I walked out of the office, I laughed sarcastically.

“I’ll be ready with my weapon on that day.”

After a loud scoff, I closed the door and noticed a momentary lull in the activity outside. Men dressed in urban camouflage followed me as I walked across the hall. I paused and turned to face them, asking with a glance what they needed.

“The backup squad. If you change your mind, EAD recommended bringing me along,” the leader of the pack stated.

“Nope, not me. Get out of here! Today, no one will die.” I gave a snort of laughter and continued walking out of the building. Just as the elevator door was about to lock behind me, I caught a few muffled words that sounded like my name.

“Said Lycan.”

A grin crept across my face as the door closed and finally hid me from them.

***

Scarlett’s POV

I looked at the balding man in front of me, smiling stupidly. So far, everything had proceeded as expected. From what I could tell, he was doing rather well despite the trauma his cousin had claimed he had. She had been visibly upset when I spoke to her through the video chat. Of course, nothing else could have swayed my opinion except for the money.

A man who had seen his child murdered was offered $7,500 to ensure he was okay. My foster brother had been run over by a truck right before me, and I was facing a man who didn’t even appear to need the aftercare. I had seen people heal from this without the help of a therapist.

“It’s not something you see every day, young lady, but I promise you that you’ve helped me overcome my fear,” he said.

To be clear, all I had done was ask him to describe what happened, and he had done so with the natural hesitancy of someone attempting to recall the details. His tears had been over nothing particularly tragic.

When coping with such situations, there were two primary sorts of people. Either they were deathly vindictive or deathly miserable, having decided that nothing would prevent them from taking their own lives. The ones like this were the ones that sat back and tried to smile weakly in the hopes that the other person would buy their act, yet in reality, they were screaming bloody murder and plotting various methods to get revenge on the person who caused them trauma.

I couldn’t tell which dimension he was in as I stared into his practically see-through eyes. However, I placed him in the third group, which consisted of those who appeared to have recovered quickly from the shock but whose emotional state still seemed off. ‘Requires serious observation,’ I scribbled on my notepad. While I was away, his loved ones should watch closely for signs of prolonged intense grief and put him under suicide watch for the next few days. That way, we would know that his next move would be thoroughly planned.