A Nature of Conflict (The Redemption Saga Book 3), page 14
“I worked protection for a Magi scientist who studied them,” she answered. “It’s why I’m here. The scientist is also here, answering questions. We went to Northern Canada about two years ago. We’ve met Fiona. You have her eyes, Rogue Wolf. You killed the Druid she had wanted to take over her territory when she passed.”
Quinn snarled. His mother spoke to outsiders about him? Told strangers and outsiders his given name? How fucking dare that raving bitch in heat. If Quinn remembered his mother right, she probably slept with the scientist in exchange for talking to him.
“If you want to live through the rest of this meeting, you will call me Quinn,” he growled. That was the line. He wasn’t going to hear Rogue Wolf from that bitch’s mouth again. “Did she tell you why I killed that Druid, or how?”
“No,” the woman answered. “No, Quinn, she didn’t.”
“Then don’t presume you know fucking anything,” he commanded. He wondered why fucking females always thought they knew everything. This bitch knew nothing.
“He’s killed one? Colonel…” One of the younger men at the table looked shocked.
Colonel Fischer watched him thoughtfully. “I would love for you to go with the team-”
“No,” Quinn told him finally. He felt bad for the people in the Amazon, but he wasn’t going. “I’ll consult from here.”
“I want you on the mission.” The colonel looked angry. “If you are so powerful then you can help my team go in and save these people.”
“I am powerful,” Quinn confirmed. He pushed his magic out, his Source letting it flow from him with ease, and called the earth to his command. The basement shook. He knew the building above them was shaking. The entire block of New York probably thought a small earthquake was happening, maybe even half the city. He ended it after four seconds. He’d counted, carefully.
The room was silent.
“But I am not helping you put down Druids,” Quinn finished.
“You’ll follow orders. I outrank you,” the colonel snapped. “James, you know I can force this. We need someone like him down there. This situation is getting out of hand.”
“You won’t find anyone else on the planet like Quinn,” James told him softly. “And I’m not going to force Quinn to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
“So that’s it? We just let these Druids walk all over us? Take people’s homes? Run them out of the fucking jungle?”
“Yes,” Quinn answered. He wasn’t going down there and picking a fight with a group of Magi that could kill him. Not when they already wanted to. He was their enemy for a reason.
“Is there nothing I can do to get the world’s expert on Druids to go down and help my team stop this? You’ve even killed one before.”
“No.” Quinn wasn’t going anywhere near their kind. Not again.
He turned and began to leave the room, ignoring one of the soldiers cursing at them. James followed him but said nothing. Quinn could smell James’ worry and pride.
On the elevator, the handler did finally speak. “If they agree to drop the idea of you going, are you willing to give them more information?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” Quinn answered. Shade and Scout were pressed against his legs. They hadn’t liked the idea of going near any more Druids. They hadn’t liked the fear Quinn had tried to bury at the thought of it.
“Rogue Wolf?” James tested the name and Quinn snarled at it.
“The name my mother finally gave me when I grew into my abilities. Before that, for most of my life, I was just ‘boy,’” he explained to his handler. “Don’t use it.”
“Does anyone on the team know it?”
“Elijah,” Quinn answered softer. “Elijah knows nearly everything.” Not everything. Not the parts that really mattered.
“I won’t tell anyone else. I’ll talk to them when you’re gone and let them know that you are comfortable consulting them here or over conference call when you return to Georgia.”
“Thank you, James,” Quinn whispered honestly. He ran his hands through Shade’s dark fur, looking for comfort and hoping to comfort his wolf all the same. He couldn’t talk to James about the things he needed to get off his chest now as memories flooded back to him. He didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted his pack. He wanted his males around him while he was feeling raw. Raw from the city, raw from the meeting. They would be the balm he needed.
“Go back to the team,” James told him. “I got everything from here.”
Quinn did just that, heading straight for the WMC building, and forcing the idea of Druids in the Amazon out of his mind. He tried to ignore the memories of his mother, and of the Druid he killed. He felt the uncomfortable sensation of his heart being ripped from his chest at one memory that decided to haunt him before he found the team.
He wished he could forget the reason he’d killed her.
He went to a floor of meeting rooms, directed there by a receptionist. He knew one of the rooms had been assigned to the team to wait in while they were called into appointments. He entered the team’s designated room, 2-C.
He found Vincent, who pointed him silently to Elijah - Vincent’s way of saying he knew something was wrong, but he would respect Quinn’s closeness to their cowboy. It showed Quinn he had a good pack leader, a good alpha who led a group of alphas. He grabbed Elijah and was nearly panicking as Elijah followed him to a dark corner of the room.
“What’s wrong?” Elijah sounded sick with worry. “My bud, what’s wrong?”
“Druids,” Quinn answered. “They want me down in the rainforest to deal with Druids.”
“What did James say?”
“He’s not going to let them force me. They can’t anyway, but there was this one bitch who knew my name.” Quinn touched his own chest, pointing at his heart. “My name. She met my mother and now they know I’ve killed one of them before. Stupid bitch blasted my life out there to the entire room.” He wished he’d killed her. He should have ended the bitch, put her out of her fucking misery for it. He couldn’t remember why he’d stopped himself.
“Holy shit,” Elijah mumbled, wide-eyed in shock.
Quinn’s fury beat in his veins. He debated on going back and taking the building down on their heads. He wanted to, he wanted so bad. “They want me to go Druid hunting. Apparently Druids down in the Amazon are acting up. I told them that going in was going to get more people killed.” He was snarling as he spoke, unable to hold down his feral rage.
“We’re not letting you go to the Amazon,” Elijah whispered. “We’re not. I’m not letting you anywhere near that place, Quinn.”
“The Druids down there are even wilder than my mother,” Quinn told him. His mother was crazy. Druids tended to go mad from isolation. He knew what no one else did. He was raised by her. The scars on his back were evidence of how far the madness could go. He didn’t want to know how much crazier the Amazon Druids could get.
“Elijah is right,” Vincent called out softly. “You aren’t going anywhere near that. IMAS can get their own men killed. James and I won’t allow them to get you killed, too.”
“They can’t make me,” he growled. “I’ll fucking kill them if they try.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it’s needed…Quinn, you can quit. You aren’t beholden to this organization like Sawyer is. You don’t need to work for them, or follow their orders.” Vincent walked closer. Quinn let him. He trusted Vincent and his other packmates. He might have gone to Elijah first, but Vin was their leader, even if he wasn’t the most powerful Magi in the room. “If you decide to quit, if that’s what it comes to, you will always have a home with us. It doesn’t matter if you’re on the team or not.” Vincent gently touched his upper arm. “We got you, brother.”
“Thank you.” Quinn’s heart swelled. Vincent had called him brother. Their leader was changing, relaxing, growing closer to those around him. “What about Sawyer?”
“You quitting the team shouldn’t have anything to do with her. Don’t worry. We aren’t letting anyone take her either.” He made it sound like a promise. “Quinn, this isn’t the end of the world.”
“He’s right,” Elijah agreed. “It’s not. It’s shitty that some bitch knows who you are, knows some of your past, and tried to drag you into an IMAS mission, but it won’t ruin everything. I mean, everyone here knows what you did after you left the Druids, and it’s never been an issue.”
“Yeah,” Quinn sighed. He slaughtered part of a non-Magi biker gang that thought to mess with him. He hadn’t realized at the time what he’d done was wrong, protecting himself in the most violent way possible. Vincent and Elijah explained it to him when they found him. It had never been held against him, but it was a bad introduction to the world around him. “I’m just so angry. Why did they think I would be interested in going down there?”
“We can tell you’re mad.” Elijah chuckled. He didn’t get the joke, but Elijah sobered and continued, “They aren’t thinking about what you want.”
“No.” Vincent sighed. “It’s about what they want. They think you’ll make sure their mission succeeds. They don’t care about you at all. That’s IMAS. Get in line and follow orders. Expendable.” He shook his head. “They can’t treat you like one of their grunts though. You’re a Special Agent with the IMPO. You outrank most of them.”
“Where is everyone else?” Quinn asked, ending the topic. He didn’t want to discuss Druids anymore. Period. He wanted to know where the rest of the team was.
“All in their reviews and mental health evaluations. Elijah is done, and I still need to have mine,” Vincent explained, going back to sit down.
“Yours is going to suck,” Elijah reminded him. “And Quinn, you don’t have one. They only brought you up here for the IMAS thing, it seems.”
“Good.” Quinn bit out, sitting down next to Vincent. Elijah sandwiched him between them. He liked it. Shade and Scout had gone into a corner for a nap and Quinn had two brothers flanking him while his wolves rested. It was comfortable. It eased his anger.
“I’m not looking forward to mine,” Vincent admitted. “It’ll be nearly as bad as Sawyer’s is probably going.”
11
Sawyer
Sawyer tapped her foot impatiently in the small office. A guard had put her in the room nearly an hour before and left her there, as if she really didn’t have anything better to do. She didn’t, but anything was better than this. The sterile, small, white office was beginning to annoy her. The lights were too bright, the furniture too uncomfortable.
It was a tactic, and Sawyer cursed herself for not realizing it sooner. Push her into a state where she couldn’t hold anything back or consider her words before she spoke. Realizing that, she calmed down and waited patiently. The tension and anxiety left her body as she mentally prepared herself for it. She had considered this would just be a meeting with a doctor who would ask uncomfortable questions, fishing for something that needed fixing. Now, she knew it was much more. They needed her to fuck up and were willing to play games with her head to make that happen.
Sawyer could play games, too.
She went to the same headspace that saw her through every piece of torture the world had thrown at her. She was doing this for someone else. Her team. They needed her to succeed. She would take the abuse: the uncomfortable chair, the bright lights that were too hot, the wait.
She shut it all out and just sat there. She would give them nothing.
Another twenty minutes rolled by before the door behind her opened. She didn’t turn to see the Magi entering. Sawyer was stronger, that was immediately obvious, and it was all that mattered. This Magi would lose if a fight was needed. That gave her confidence.
“I’m Doctor Staub,” he announced, walking into her view. She looked at him with a blank face. He was a mid-forties, attractive, if plain, man. Brown hair, brown eyes, easy smile. “You must be Sawyer. It’s a pleasure to see you today.” He extended a hand and she stood up slowly. She had him by two inches, which didn’t faze him. He must have already known. Most men were intimidated by a woman taller than them, Sawyer knew from experience. She shook hands with him, then sat back down.
“Nice to meet you,” she replied as he went behind the desk.
“I’m sorry for the wait. I was with another patient who took much longer than I’d expected. I would have scheduled you for later if I had known,” he lied. Sawyer knew it was a lie. He was fidgeting with a pen; his breathing had changed from comfortable to uncomfortable. He’d over-compensated in information, like he was making an effort to cover up any holes in the story that could lead to questions later.
It had been a long time since she’d met a liar that bad. She wasn’t the best at catching the signs of a lie, but he’d been so obvious. Not even Quinn was that bad at lying, though he rarely lied at all and they were all tiny white lies that people told to protect their own privacy.
“It’s no trouble,” she promised him.
“I had some time yesterday to look over your mental health record and the case you were recently on.” Dr. Staub began, looking away from her quickly, down to some papers he’d carried in. “I’ll cut to the chase. You are a victim of abuse-”
“I’m a survivor of abuse,” Sawyer corrected. She wasn’t a victim anymore. She survived. She won. She lived. “Get it right.”
“F-f-forgive me,” he mumbled. She had obviously thrown him with that. “Survivor. Do you feel that the trauma you experienced changed anything you did in Texas from what you would have normally done?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly. “I’ve been molded by my life and my own resilience, moral code, and beliefs. I’m not sure how I would react differently because there was never a situation like it before I was…Shadow.” She said it carefully.
“You became Shadow at sixteen, according to records.” Dr. Staub wrote something down as he said that. “Eight years ago. Long time to be an assassin.”
“Shadow didn’t exist when I was sixteen. I killed my first person at eighteen. Shadow came after that.” Sawyer took a deep breath. “I stopped being Shadow at twenty. So, two, maybe close to three years, of being an assassin. Not the last eight.”
“Then why do records say that trauma began at sixteen?” Dr. Staub frowned at her.
“Have you watched the tape?” she asked, frowning back. She had no idea what her paper record said. She didn’t even know who made it. The team would have never let anything wrong get into it, that was certain, so it had to have been an outsider.
“What tape?” he asked back.
“Ah.” Sawyer rolled her eyes and kicked her legs out, getting more comfortable. She slouched back in her seat and stared at the doctor for a long time before offering more information. “I did a video ‘interview’ for the IMPO and the WMC about my time with Axel. It explained everything. At sixteen, I was only Axel’s thief and his…girlfriend.” She wanted to choke on the word, but it was the right word. “He tortured and blackmailed me into being his assassin when I was eighteen. He used my animal bond and then a child.”
“The scars and missing finger,” Dr. Staub noted.
“That’s right.”
“Do you feel like you ever want to hurt yourself or others?” Dr. Staub asked.
She wanted to be insulted by the question, but it was standard fare. “No,” she told him. She didn’t say anything else. That was a question that did not need elaborating on. She was also a better liar than Dr. Staub. She had moments where she most definitely wanted to hurt other people.
The questions went on as Dr. Staub tried to find something wrong with her. She dodged and evaded most of them, giving him half-truths or plain denials. It was why she didn’t want Jasper to get her a therapist for her nightmares. She would only lie to them. She didn’t share her life with strangers. She didn’t have panic attacks. She didn’t have flashbacks. She didn’t have moments of crippling pain or unbridled rage that led her to hurt people for hurting others.
“You have nightmares,” Dr. Staub pointed out eventually. “A small note in the report from the case. The killer said he dream walked and saw that you had some fairly vicious nightmares.”
Sawyer narrowed her eyes on him, the first time she’d given him anything except a blank face. “Yes. I have nightmares.”
“Do you sleep through most nights?”
“I’ve never needed much sleep,” she countered.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Dr. Staub mumbled.
She held back a rush of anger. This wasn’t his business. This was hers and hers alone.
“I think you might have some PTSD from your past, whether you admit it or not.” Dr. Staub sighed. “I wonder if this sort of job is healthy for you. Nightmares can progress to flashbacks and render you unable to make the best decisions while working in sensitive situations. Since it’s been so long, you probably haven’t received the appropriate care. Are you seeing anyone about the nightmares?”
Fuck.
“Yes.” Sawyer answered. This was a corner and she was backed in. She hadn’t thought that they would talk to Cory about her. That kid had lived a fucked-up life, and he’d seen some fucked-up things in her head. She still didn’t want to know why he was there or what he thought about them. She had enough nightmare fuel.
“Who?”
“My teammate, Special Agent Jasper Williams. He can dream walk and has been entering during my nightmares and helping me reshape them, change them. He’s talked to several experts anonymously about my situation and has a detailed care plan created.”
The door clicked open.
“I was hoping you would get something out of her. Thank you, Dr. Staub. You may go,” a feminine voice called out. “I can handle it from here.”
