As we drive deeper into the night, the invisible tether between Astrid and me pulls taut, a constant reminder of what I'm leaving behind. My wolf is restless, refusing to settle while we move further from our mate. But the choice she made in letting us go tonight was a beginning. Another small crack in the wall standing between us.
Tonight, she chose me... again.
Episode 7
CHAPTER 19
Grey Sweatpants
* * *
Astrid Mathieson
The hallways of GUIDE headquarters are mercifully quiet as I make my way toward the exit, my still-damp clothes from the restaurant sprinkler system clinging uncomfortably to my skin. I sent both rookie agents home with strict instructions that I would file the report for tonight’s dismal mission.
They bought it—or at least pretended to. Sutter was too busy nursing his wounded pride after being knocked out and face-planting on the kitchen floor to question me further. Mendez looked more suspicious of my dismissal, but she's too junior to challenge me directly.
Neither of them needs to know that I deliberately let a magickal entity escape. That I stood there and spoke to him while he was invisible to them. That I helped him get away with the brownie we were sent to capture.
My first failed mission. Ever. The stain feels like it's spreading across my soul, not just my record.
I check my watch—10:47 PM. Surely Hayes has already gone home by now. I'll file the incident report before morning. That’s plenty of time to craft a plausible explanation about unexpected magickal interference and inexperienced team members from the comfort of my couch. Then tomorrow I can focus on the new assignment, another hunt, another chance to prove my loyalty to an organization that would execute me if they knew what I really am. But I'll get vengeance for my father no matter what it costs me.
I've almost reached the parking garage entrance when a familiar voice stops me cold.
"Agent Mathieson."
I turn slowly, arranging my features into a mask of professional composure as Hayes approaches from the corridor to my right. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his face, making his expression even more severe than usual.
"Sir." I keep my voice neutral, fighting the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "I was just heading out to change. I’ll file the report before morning."
His gaze flicks over my damp clothes, then back to my face. "I hear the target escaped."
It's not a question. I straighten my spine, meeting his gaze directly.
"Yes, sir. The entity had magickal concealment assistance we weren't prepared for."
"Hmm." The sound conveys volumes of disappointment. "Your first field mission since Rome, and the target escapes. Not the outcome I was hoping for, Mathieson."
My stomach clenches with a flash of hot indignation that I quickly swallow down. Three months of perfect missions, and he focuses on the one failure. Of course he does. I fight the urge to defend myself, to point out the impossible circumstances—but excuses would only make me look weaker in his eyes. So I say nothing.
"Step it up, Mathieson, or you’ll be with the rookies a lot longer than I originally intended." Hayes steps closer, lowering his voice. "Simple mission. Simple outcomes."
Simple? My jaw tightens. Nothing about what happened was simple. I made a choice in that kitchen, one I can't explain to Hayes without revealing my own hidden identity. Success or failure. He'd never understand why I let them go, why I stood there and spoke to someone invisible to my rookies. Why for the first time in my career, I deliberately sabotaged my own mission.
"Sorry to disappoint, sir."
Hayes studies me for a moment longer, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a thin file folder. "Collection assignment for tomorrow. Simple. Straightforward. Even Sutter and Mendez couldn't mess this up." He practically shoves it into my hands.
I accept the folder without looking at it, knowing it's likely the most menial assignment he could find—probably an old woman who’d been reported by her neighbors as a witch. The kind of job they send rookies on to build confidence.
Babysitting duty. Perfect. From elite agent to glorified hall monitor in one failed mission. I need this win—simple, clean, by-the-book. Just do the job, Astrid. No complications. No moral quandaries. No golden-eyed Vikings appearing out of nowhere to make me question every damn thing I've believed in. Please, just let this one be normal. Let me remember why I'm here, why I do this. Let me be sure again.
"Tomorrow. Nine AM. Don't be late." He turns and walks away without waiting for confirmation, his posture rigid with disapproval.
I wait until he's out of sight before continuing to the parking garage, the folder clutched in a white-knuckled grip. I don't open it. Whatever's inside can wait until tomorrow. Right now, I need space to think, to process the fact that I just deliberately let a magickal entity escape.
And for what? For a wolf shifter with golden eyes who saved my life in Missouri? For a primal connection I can't explain but can't seem to ignore?
