I scoffed. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't."
She wet her lips, her eyes wide and unblinking as I held the gun to her forehead. "Because I love you, son. I would never do anything to hurt you."
Tension stiffened my trigger finger, and I gave a bitter laugh. "You don't even know what love is, Veronica." Swallowing the bile in my throat, I withdrew my gun and averted my gaze. "You're not worth the clean-up fee."
Her posture slumped ever so slightly in relief, and it made me furious all over again. I should have killed her the moment she walked back into my life five years ago.
"Zayden," she said softly, "I know you don't understand—"
"That's an understatement. Are you going to explain it to me?" I swung my gaze back to hers, meeting cool blue eyes that were a mirror image of my own. I already knew the answer, though. It was written all over her face. "Of course not. Get the fuck out of my venue, Agent Laurence." She'd never used her real name when she'd been married to my father, and when she’d resurfaced to recruit me that day after the Timberwolf massacre, she’d reintroduced herself to me as Agent Rebecca Laurence.
Her mouth tight; she drew another long breath, then gave a short nod and stood up. "This isn't finished between us, Zayden," she told me quietly.
I sneered. "Oh, it really is. Consider this my resignation."
She stiffened, and tension radiated through her face. "Don't be stupid, son. This wasn't a voluntary position."
"No, it wasn't," I agreed with a bitter laugh. "But you just destroyed the only leverage you had against me. So, with all due respect, Mother? Go fuck yourself."
She stared at me for a long moment, then gave a frustrated sigh. "We'll discuss this further when you're less emotional." Spinning on her heel, she started to leave the bar per my request, but I let out a low, irritated growl as a thought sparked in my mind.
"Wait," I snapped. She paused, turning back to look at me with a cocked brow. "How long?" I asked. "How long has he been involved with the FBI? That simpering fool outside called him the director but you and I both know that's not true." One of the backup agents had said it right after I'd punched Chase. He'd smirked, too.
My mother wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Of course he's not the FBI Director. But he has been lobbying for an elevated position, and somehow—lord knows how—he's charmed a lot of the lower-level agents into supporting him. They call him 'the new director' when no one is around to hear their disrespect to the current director."
I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't get it. Chase Lockhart. He's clinically insane. How the fuck did this happen? Why did you never tell me?"
She huffed a short, angry sigh. "I only found out a few weeks ago. He's using another name, of course. And in case you forgot, the number of people left within the Bureau who could identify him as Chase Lockhart are pretty damn limited." She held two fingers up. "You and me."
I scowled. "That still doesn't explain how the fuck he even got in. I'm missing a piece of the puzzle here, Mom. Fill me in."
Her gaze darted to the ceiling like she was debating whether to tell me the truth or lie. Then she touched a hand to her hair in an anxious gesture. "I don't have the full story," she admitted quietly. "It's above my paygrade. But I do know he was a protégé of a former director. Brant retired a couple of years ago—medical reasons—but still had a lot of connections, political and otherwise in DC."
I had nothing to say to that, so I remained silent as she glared at me.
"Is that all?" my mother asked. "Because if there is something else you want to know—"
"Who gave them that recording?" I demanded. "Was it you?"
She wet her lips, then nodded. "I know you care for her, Zayden. But she's one of them. She's a criminal."
I exploded, smacking the bottle of bourbon off the bar to smash on the floor. "So am I!" I roared back at her. It was an old argument, though, and I knew better than to try to change her mind. "Get out before I shoot you, Agent Laurence. We're done here."
She was smart enough not to hang around this time, quickly exiting the bar and closing the door carefully after herself.
Once again, I was alone. But this time I felt like I'd been repeatedly kicked while I was down. Hanging my head, I let myself crumple to the floor. Brant Wilson. Why had that name not registered when we first saw it in the file Dallas delivered? All the redactions should have been the first fucking tip-off, but for fuck’s sake, I knew him. Or at least I knew of him. When I'd first been coerced into the FBI, I'd done my research. Brant Wilson was an associate director within the FBI and not connected enough to the Shadow Grove area for me to have paid much attention. Still, I should have remembered.
I'd never met him, of course, and hadn’t recognized him when he was caught snooping around. But when I saw his name, it should have reminded me. There were no excuses. I'd fucked up royally.
Now I was paying the ultimate price. I'd lost the only person I'd ever truly loved. She'd never forgive me for this, and I didn't even blame her.
2
HADES
The sharp taste of chemicals in my mouth made my stomach churn. I gagged as bile rose in my throat. No way in hell was I vomiting, though. Not when I couldn't move my body.
I blinked my heavy lids, trying to bring the room around me into focus, but it was to no avail. Everything remained dark and hazy, and just that small amount of effort wiped me out. I backslid into unconsciousness once more.
The next time I woke, I could have easily been inside a nightmare. Chase's leering, one-eyed face loomed over me. He spoke to me in low, quiet words that I couldn't make out over the deafening rush of my pulse inside my head. But it was enough to spark the memory of how I’d ended up where I was.
The arrest.
Jeanette stopping her car about half an hour out of Cloudcroft and getting out to meet with a dark-suited man. Jeanette getting shot in the head. The back door being opened and the stinging bite of a tranquilizer dart in my neck as I tried to fight back.
Zed's betrayal.
Zed’s goddamn fucking betrayal.
How could he? I trusted him more than anyone.
This time when the blackness of drugged sleep reeled me back in, I went willingly. Anything was better than reliving the pain of Zed's lie. With just one flippant comment from Jeanette—Agent De Rosa—he'd achieved the one thing Chase had failed at for so many years. He'd broken me.
Pain became my constant companion from that point on. As the drug dripped through the IV Chase hooked me up to coursed through my veins like fire, the agony of my best friend's treachery scorched holes in my soul. He'd set me up. All the years we'd worked together, all the people we'd killed... and this was what he pinned me for? A crime I didn't even commit—would never commit. Not her.
Poor Maxine. Now whoever had really killed her would walk free, and for the first time in a long time, I was powerless to change that.
She deserved better.
I deserved better.