Page 20 of Depraved

CHAPTER 7

Gage

Towering redwoods loomed on either side of the road, their massive trunks disappearing into the misty darkness above. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles, so much fresher than the acrid smog of San Diego I'd left behind.

My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I rounded the final bend, following a tiny dirt road that veered up a steep hill, tucked away out of sight. The safe-house came into view—a sprawling lake cabin nestled against the mountainside, its windows dark and shuttered. No lights, no signs of movement. Good. Sarah had followed protocol to the letter.

I killed the engine and sat for a moment, listening to the tick of cooling metal and the whisper of wind through the trees. My heart hammered against my ribs as the reality of the situation settled over me. Layla's mother was here, just yards away. Her goddamned mother. The woman I'd sworn to protect, even after I betrayed her daughter in the worst possible way.

She should hate me as much as I hated me. As much as Layla hated me. I deserved every ounce of it.

With a deep breath, I stepped out of the truck. The cool mountain air raised goosebumps on my arms as I made my way to the cabin's front porch. Each step felt leaden, weighed down by guilt and grief. Grief for what could have been if I’d just figured my shit out from the get-go.

I rapped softly on the heavy wooden door—three quick taps, pause, two more. Our prearranged signal. For a long moment, silence reigned. Then came the sound of multiple locks disengaging. The door creaked open slowly, revealing Sarah's wary face. Her blue eyes scanned me quickly before darting to the darkened forest behind me.

"All clear?" she murmured, her hand resting on the butt of her holstered pistol.

I nodded, stepping in as she moved aside. "No tails. We're good."

The cabin's interior was dim, lit only by a single lamp in the corner. The air smelled of pine and wood smoke from the dying embers in the old stone fireplace. Sarah locked the door behind me, engaging a series of heavy-duty deadbolts.

Sarah and I went way back. All the way back to the academy. We used to fuck on and off for a few years but it was never serious. She hooked up with Charlie for a while after I left for the new office in New Mexico, but we stayed cordial. She was kind of a bitch, but I knew she was loyal.

"How is she?" I asked quietly, shrugging off my jacket.

Sarah's lips tightened. "Shaken. Confused. But holding it together, all things considered."

I nodded, guilt twisting in my gut. "Did you tell her...?"

"Only what she needed to know," Sarah replied. "That she was in danger and we're here to protect her. I didn't mention your little girlfriend."

I gave her a dry look, but relief and disappointment warred inside me. Part of me had hoped Sarah would have explainedeverything, sparing me the task. But I knew this was my burden to bear.

"She's in the bedroom down the hall," Sarah continued, jerking her chin towards a closed door. "I gave her a mild sedative to help her sleep, but she should be awake by now."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the shit show ahead of me. With a nod to Sarah, I made my way down the dimly lit hallway. The floorboards creaked softly beneath my feet, each step feeling like a countdown.

Pausing outside the bedroom door, I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated. What right did I have to be here? To involve myself in Layla's life again, even just through her mother? The weight of my betrayal pressed down on me, threatening to crush what little resolve I had left.

But it was too late for doubts now. Carlos was coming, and Claudia needed to be protected. With a sharp exhale, I wrapped gently on the door.

"Come in," a soft voice called from within.

I turned the handle slowly, pushing the door open. The bedroom was bathed in the warm glow of a bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the rustic wooden furniture. And there, perched on the edge of the bed, was Claudia.

The resemblance to Layla was striking— the same high cheekbones, the same full lips. But where Layla's eyes held a hardness born of years of violence and blood, Claudia's were soft with confusion and innocent fear.

"Mrs. Rosu," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "I'm Agent Gage Warren.”

Claudia's eyes widened slightly as she took in my appearance. I knew I looked rough—days of stubble darkening my jaw, clothes rumpled from the long drive, and my hair grown out past my shoulders, in need of a wash. Not exactly the picture of a professional federal agent.

"Claudia," she said, her voice soft and hesitant. "Agent Connor explained that I'm in some kind of danger, but she was rather vague on the details." Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand. Why would anyone want to harm me?"

I moved further into the room, settling into a worn armchair across from her. The leather creaked beneath my weight, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

"It's... complicated," I began, choosing my words carefully. "There are some very dangerous people who believe they might be able to use you as leverage."

Claudia's eyes narrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing her delicate features. "Leverage for what? I'm just a teacher. I don't have any connections to?—"

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