Page 9 of Witch's Promise

Katelyn leaned in, her brow furrowing as she looked at where Sean was pointing. "I don't recognize it," she admitted. "And trust me, I know most of the players your father deals with. This is new."

Sean sat back, his mind whirling. A million-dollar deposit from an unknown source, right when the organization was drowning in debt? It stank of desperation, of his father making deals he shouldn't be making.

"Sean?" Katelyn's voice cut through the haze of memory. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sean shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind. "I'm fine, just processing."

Katelyn squeezed his hand, her touch grounding him in the present. "I know it's a lot to take in. And I know you walkedaway from all this for a reason. But Sean, if your father's gotten himself into something he can't handle..."

"It's not my problem anymore," Sean cut her off, his voice harsher than he'd intended. "The old man made his bed. Let him lie in it."

Chapter 3

Gabe

Gabe's eyes cracked open, immediately assaulted by the harsh fluorescent lights of the Shadowguards' sleeping pod. His body felt like it had been run over by a truck, then backed up on for good measure. Fuck, he was getting too old for these all-nighters.

He groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. The pod's mattress, while technically ergonomic or some shit, felt about as comfortable as a slab of concrete after a full night of tossing and turning. But hey, at least he'd finished that goddamn report.

Gabe rubbed his eyes, trying to will some life back into his exhausted brain. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually made it home to his own bed. It seemed like there was always one more crisis, one more report, one more life-or-death situation that needed his attention.

"You're doing important work," he muttered to himself, a mantra he'd repeated so many times it had lost all meaning. "Saving lives, protecting the city. It's worth it."

But as he swung his legs over the side of the pod, wincing at the protest of his stiff muscles, Gabe couldn't help but wonder: at what cost? When was the last time he'd had a full night'ssleep? Eaten a meal that didn't come from the Shadowguards' cafeteria or a takeout container? Had a conversation that didn't revolve around supernatural threats or mission reports?

Shaking off the melancholy thoughts, Gabe forced himself to stand. No time for a pity party. The world wasn't going to save itself, after all.

He shuffled over to the locker assigned to him, grateful not for the first time that the Shadowguards kept spare clothes on hand. The thought of putting on yesterday's sweat-and-coffee-stained shirt made his skin crawl.

The shower called to him like a siren song. Gabe cranked the heat up as high as it would go, letting out a small groan of relief as the hot water pounded against his aching muscles. Steam filled the small cubicle, and for a moment, Gabe allowed himself to pretend he was somewhere else. Somewhere without the weight of the world on his shoulders, without the constant fear of failure that gnawed at his gut.

But reality had a way of intruding, even in his brief moments of peace. As he lathered up, his fingers brushed against the scar on his side – a souvenir from a mission gone sideways last year.

Gabe squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the images away. He couldn't afford to dwell on past failures. Not when there were always new threats looming on the horizon.

Stepping out of the shower, Gabe dried off and dressed quickly. The clean clothes felt like armor, preparing him for whatever battles the day might bring. He ran a hand through his damp hair, not bothering with anything more than a cursory styling. It wasn't like he had anyone to impress, anyway.

His Shadow Holographic Device (SHD) sat on the small desk in the sleeping pod, its sleek surface gleaming in the artificial light. Gabe activated it with a touch, bracing himself for the inevitable flood of notifications, alerts, and reminders that seemed to multiply every time he closed his eyes.

The holographic display sprang to life, bathing the small room in a soft blue glow. Gabe's eyes scanned the incoming messages, his heart sinking with each new item added to his already overwhelming to-do list.

And then he saw it: a reminder for the interrogation scheduled for today. Shit. How could he have forgotten?

Gabe glanced at the clock display on his SHD, swearing under his breath. If he didn't move his ass, he was going to be late. And if there was one thing Alex hated more than incomplete reports, it was tardiness.

Grabbing his badge and holstering his standard-issue weapon, Gabe took one last look around the sleeping pod. The rumpled sheets, the damp towel tossed haphazardly over a chair – it was a far cry from the orderly, put-together image he tried to project to the rest of the team.

But that was the thing about being a Shadowguard, wasn't it? You learned to live two lives. The public face, always ready with a plan, always in control. And then there was... this. The messy reality behind the scenes, the constant struggle to keep your head above water while the tide of supernatural threats threatened to drag you under.

Gabe pushed through the heavy doors of the interrogation wing, the familiar smell of antiseptic and stale coffee hitting him like a slap to the face. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow that did nothing to improve his already pounding headache.

As he approached the observation room, Gabe's mind raced through what he knew about their suspect. Grant Hall. The name conjured images of the chaos they'd encountered yesterday - buildings ablaze, civilians screaming, raw magical energy crackling through the air. It had been a hell of a fight, but they'd managed to bring Hall in without any casualties. Small victories, right?

Gabe paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to center himself. He could do this. He was a professional, dammit, even if he felt like warmed-over shit.

He pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit observation room. Alex and Lily were already there, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the monitors. Through the two-way mirror, Gabe could see Emma, her hands moving in intricate patterns as she wove her magic around their suspect.

"Nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty," Alex said, his tone dry but not unkind. "Rough night?"

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