Page 33 of Fate Awakened

“I can do his prep and transport in and out. He already knows I’m involved, so I can show my face to him and give him the information he needs to pull this off. I could have him ready in under thirty minutes,” I state calmly, hoping I don’t seem too eager for the task.

Dante stares at me as if evaluating my control.

We need this.

“Jake, you’ll join Cain in prep and transport. He saw you on his surveillance at his place today, so neither of you needs to be undercover. Erik, add a team of four you trust, just in case shit hits the fan and we have to fight our way out. We aren’t sending this guy in to die. We’re using his access to gather information. Our priority is keeping our involvement with this under wraps, but we’re not now, nor will we ever be a pack that doesn’t value human life. Understood?” He finishes looking squarely at me.

“Pack First.” We say in unison.

“You have one hour to get everything into place. Let’s go.” With that, he slides his chair back and exits the conference room. I turn to Pres.

“Have the equipment charged and ready to go in thirty minutes. Leave it outside Keith’s interrogation room. Erik, make sure we have our wheels ready with new plates. Jake, you’re with me. Let's move,” I say, echoing Dante’s confidence.

I won’t fuck this up, Firefly. I’m coming.

Chapter 14

Keith

Timepassessounbelievablyslowly when you’re tied up, alone, in a room with only the air conditioner's hum to listen to. I feel like I’ve been here for hours, yet I couldn’t even begin to estimate how much time has passed. The man I’d been speaking to hasn’t returned, and I don’t know what that means for me or Elle.

How could I possibly have fucked this up so much?

I should’ve responded differently to his claim. I should’ve laughed it off or denied it like I had a hundred times before. The problem was I wasn’t expecting it. His words blindsided me, knocking me off balance and keeping me from deflecting quickly enough. This is why I like computers. They’re predictable. Each input generates an output. Everything’s in balance, or it doesn’t work. Any curveball thrown at me by a computer was far more manageable to field.

Just as I’m beginning to wonder if this time alone is a ploy to get me more vulnerable, the door clicks, and boots on the tile echo again.

He’s not alone this time.

I start to tense up, wondering if this is when the physical torture begins and hoping I can withstand it. The hood over my head is ripped off, and the fluorescent light from the room assaults my eyes. I squint, turning away from the glare and blinking repetitively to allow my eyes to adjust to the room's brightness.

As my vision clears, I see two pairs of black combat boots and black utility cargo pants, and as my eyes scan up the black t-shirts, recognition flashes in my mind.

“Cain.” The word comes out like a bad taste in my mouth, full of disgust. Even knowing he was part of the team that broke into my house, it still didn’t prepare me for the anger I feel crawling its way through my body.

This motherfucker is lying to Elle. He’s the reason she's in danger!

“Keith,” he responds with no more warmth in his tone than I had in my greeting. Cain grabs a chair from against the wall before turning it backward and straddling it, throwing both arms casually over the back.

Once my eyes have fully adjusted, I see the room resembles a police interrogation room. There’s a table in front of me, just out of my reach, a large two-way mirror on my left, and an exit on my right. A few chairs line the wall across from the empty table. Zip ties secure my hands to the metal chair I’m sitting on, and beneath it is a chain securing it to the floor. My ankles are similarly shackled. Essentially I’m bound in a way that prevents me from any chance of escape.

Cain’s partner looks vaguely familiar. Possibly from the security footage from my house, but I can’t be sure. He doesn’t say a word and stands barely inside the door as if on guard. Whether it's for my protection or Cain’s is yet to be seen. His facial expression is unreadable. With his posture and confidence, he reminds me of a Navy SEAL. Quiet, capable, deadly.

I’m going to die.

Every thought of escaping, of outrunning them, or even attempting to fight my way free flies out the window as I stare at both my restraints and captors.

“You're here to kill me,” I state—no emotion, no questions, just a certainty that I’m not going to survive this.

“Now, Keith, why would we want to go and do a thing like that? I’m simply here to… tutor you. You see, I think you and I should be friends. I mean, if we’re both going to be in Brielle’s life, I think it’s only fair that we try to figure out a way to get along, don’t you?” he asks, but his voice lacks the sarcasm I was expecting.

Friends? Not. Fucking. Possible.

“You want to be friends?” I question. My eyebrow raises as I show my shackles to him. “This is how you make friends?” He laughs.

“Admittedly, not usually through these means, no.”

“You going to let me go?” I ask, genuinely curious about what the fuck his plan is here.

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