"That's speculation," Reyes says, though he looks intrigued rather than dismissive. "Any hard evidence? We’ve never seen beasts under the control of anything before."
"It’s his best guess. He’s been tracking, catching, and studying them for three decades. That should count for something."
"Fascinating theory," Hayes says, his tone making it clear he finds it anything but. "But we deal in facts, not theories. The fact is, we have two chimeras killing retired GUIDE agents across Europe. We need to contain this threat before more agents die."
White-hot anger flashes through me. Un-fucking-believable. Hayes is dismissing thirty years of expert field experience as a "theory" while sending a brand-new team into a death trap. Those agents will likely die because of his arrogance, just like the last two teams.
"The fact is," I push back, "these chimeras are displaying coordinated hunting behavior that defies everything we know about them. If someone is controlling them, that would change our entire approach."
"If," Hayes emphasizes. "A big if, based on one retired agent's personal hunch."
"Rossi is the only remaining specialist on chimeras in GUIDE history," I remind him. "His observations are more than just notes. They're expert testimony."
"I actually agree with Mathieson," Sherlock says unexpectedly.
My thoughts screech to a halt like tires on wet pavement. Did Sherlock just... agree with me? I blink once, certain I've misheard him. The man who's been building a case against me since who-know-when, who follows me like a shadow waiting for me to slip up, is now publicly backing me to Hayes?
Every head in the room turns toward him, including mine.
"The attack patterns at each site show precision and coordination that simple predatory instinct doesn't explain. It makes sense that someone is directing these creatures."
Hayes’s chair creaks.
I glance over at him.
He’s studying us both. "Let's say you're right. How does that change our approach?"
"It means we're not just hunting monsters," I say. "We're hunting whoever's controlling them. And that's likely not a creature, but a person. Someone with significant magickal ability and knowledge of chimeras."
"Enclave?" Ghost suggests.
"It’s who I’d point a finger at first. This feels very personal," I answer.
The Enclave makes perfect sense. They've been at war with GUIDE since… forever. But even as I say it, something doesn't quite click. The Enclave typically operates with a larger political agenda, making statements with their attacks. This feels different. More surgical, more intimate. Like someone following a very specific list.
"Regardless of where you’d point fingers," Hayes interrupts, "our priority remains containing the immediate threat.”
“Sir” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.
"After your seventy-two hours are up, I'll consider reinstating you to field status. But only—" his eyes lock with mine, "—if you agree to take the cases I assign and those only until then."
The room suddenly feels too small, too hot. "What do you mean?"
"I mean Team Echo’s case is off-limits to you. Period." His tone leaves no room for negotiation. "Williams and Reyes will be forming their own team to handle the chimera threat. Your team is on medical leave for the next four weeks, so you’ll be running training cases until I know you’re going to follow orders again."
"The wolf showed up at my mother's house," I remind him.
"And you failed to contain it," he counters. "It's your choice, Mathieson. Desk duty with your team for the next month or take the scraps I throw you."
The ultimatum hangs in the air between us. Ghost shifts uncomfortably beside me. Williams and Reyes exchange glances, clearly sensing the tension but missing its significance. And Sherlock... Sherlock watches me with those calculating eyes, cataloging my reaction like another piece of evidence.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
“Yes, sir. Whatever you need, sir.”
"Good," Hayes answers, "Meeting adjourned."
Everyone files out ahead of me.
