"Two days leave starts soon," Sherlock says, helping Ghost steady me. "After that display, Hayes can't deny we need it."
Ghost touches his swollen jaw. "Damn, Blades. You've been holding out on us in training."
My stomach turns. "Wasn't me," I mutter. "It was him. Making my body move."
"Deputy Director Hayes would like to speak to you, ma’am," a uniformed guard says, approaching us, eyeing the growing bruise on Ghost's jaw. "Medical team is standing by."
"I'm fine." Ghost waves him off. "Just a love tap from my fearless team lead."
The director was here—watching.
My hands won't stop shaking. Not from the dreamwalker's influence—that died with him. No, this is from how close I came to exposure. One wrong move, one slip of control while fighting his power, and my own magick might have leaked through. The courtroom cameras are still rolling, documenting every moment of this disaster.
"Agent Mathieson." Hayes' voice cuts through the chaos. He’s standing near the judge's bench, his expression unreadable. "Judge’s chambers. Now."
Ghost squeezes my shoulder. "Want backup?"
"No." I straighten my jacket, try to steady my hands. "I've got this. Go get some ice on that jaw."
I hurry ahead of him into the judge’s chamber, doing my best not to look like I want to run away with my tail between my legs.
He closes the door behind us with a soft click that sounds like a prison gate shutting. "Explain."
"Sir, the dreamwalker?—"
"Compromised my best agent in the middle of a globally broadcast trial." He turns, fixing me with that cold stare that makes most agents squirm. "The same agent who has an unprecedented success rate against magickal beings."
My mouth goes dry. "Sir, I?—"
"Your team is shipping out to Rome as soon as you get back from your two-day leave. I expect a full tactical analysis of today's security failure on my desk before you ship out to Rome." He pauses. "And Mathieson? The next time you want to take point alone on a high-risk target, remember this moment. Remember how easily they can get in your head."
"Yes, sir." The dismissal is clear. I turn to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.
"The execution would have been cleaner, but killing more of them on sight might be the best solution moving forward." He sighs. "We cannot afford to have GUIDE agents look weak like that."
I escape into the hallway, my carefully constructed world feeling shakier than ever. Two days. Two days to pull myself together, check on my mom, and pray that nobody looks too closely at what happened here today.
Ghost and Sherlock are waiting outside. "Hayes rip you a new one?" Ghost asks.
"Could have been worse." I manage a weak smile. "Look, about what happened in there?—"
"Don't." Sherlock cuts me off. "We've all seen what these monsters can do. No one blames you. Nobody knew they could control a conscious mind. It’s never been documented before."
I take a deep breath. If they only knew. There’s probably a lot more undocumented stuff than we realize, myself included.
The locker room is empty when I get there. I peel off my court attire—blazer, blouse, skirt—and pull on jeans and a worn GUIDE tactical shirt. My hands have finally stopped shaking. The mirror shows no evidence of what happened in that courtroom. No bruises, no marks.
A strange restlessness prickles beneath my skin, like static electricity building with nowhere to go. I roll my shoulders, trying to shake the sensation, but it persists—a warning system with no clear danger to identify.
I take the long way to the parking garage, giving myself time to breathe. To think. The garage is nearly empty at this hour, my footsteps echoing between concrete pillars in the silence. Just as I reach for my keys, familiar voices drift from around the corner. I freeze mid-step, then carefully press myself against the wall, every sense suddenly on high alert.
"—pattern goes back months," comes Sherlock's voice, low and serious.
I freeze.
"The Kazakhstan mission. Barcelona. That warehouse in Singapore. She walks away without a scratch every time, not even a bruise."
"Agent Mathieson is one of our best." Hayes sounds tired, irritated. "Her record is impeccable. You know what happened to her father."
