Page 36 of Waiting for Fate
My phone rings with a call from my boss, Maximilliam Porter. I’m tempted to ignore it. Feign sleep to avoid the lecture I know is coming.
“Porter.”
“Credence. I knew you would be awake. Still watching the raid footage, or have you moved on to rereading missing person files?”
I scowl at my phone. This asshole. “What do you need, Max?”
“We have visual confirmation of Marcus Brown entering the Wexern anti-designation compound in Alabama.”
“Fuck!” The bottle slips from my hand, spilling the rest of my beer onto the floor. I run a hand over my head before grabbing a towel from the kitchen and cleaning up my mess. “How is a minor New York City gang suddenly connected to extremist groups up and down the coast?”
Porter sighs, sounding weary. We’ve been running ourselves ragged trying to bring this criminal ring down for the past few months. The agency can’t catch a break. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Look, I know you want to take Marcus down. This is personal for you, but I need your head in the game. He is one player on the board and he isn’t anywhere near the top of their ranks.”
“I got you. If I get the chance, I won’t back down, but I won’t let personal problems impede a mission.” I hate the thought of letting Marcus slip away to grab a bigger bad, but that’s the way this life works. If we only ever take out the mid-level players, their bosses will just hire new bodies in their place.
The line clicks when he ends the call, so I set my phone aside. Dropping the dirty towel in the bathroom laundry basket, my eyes catch on the picture of my parents hanging on the hallway wall. It’s well over fifteen years old, taken when I was in my second year of high school. Ma’s arm is wrapped tight around me, the biggest smile on her face. Dad stands on my other side, one hand clapped on my shoulder and a goofy grin on his face.
My parents were happy. Grossly in love, too. Our life wasn’t without problems. Racism exists everywhere and affects anyone of color, even Black men renowned for doing good in their communities. They persevered through the harshest struggles. Finding faith in the darkest of places.
Then they were gone. Lost in a house fire that destroyed my childhood home and claimed both my parent’s lives. Leaving me an orphan at seventeen.
Sometimes, when I wake in the middle of the night with my heart racing, I can still smell the smoke that permeated the street that night. I was staying with a friend from the basketball team. When one of my neighbors called to tell me what was going on, my friend’s parents had driven me across town and waited with me while the fire department put out the blaze.
It took months for them to clear the case. The fire investigators had unearthed threats against my father pointing to potential arson, but it was eventually determined to be an electrical fire. An accident.
At their funeral, I learned of Marcus’ existence. He swaggered into the service and plopped down next to our family lawyer, handing him a slip of paper. Paternity results that proved he was my half-brother. My grief paired with his accusations sparked an early presentation, and my alpha did not take his insults against my father well. I nearly beat him to death before my uncles could pull me away.
Seeing proof with my own eyes, the pedestal I’d held my father on had crumbled. But he wasn’t alive to explain how he had another child, born two years after me. I had to make peace with not knowing, because I refused to trust Marcus’ mother. A woman who had conveniently hid her son’s parentage until my father had died.
A few days before I left for the military training academy, I ran into Marcus again. He was almost eighteen then, and already knee deep in gang life. I knew as I met his eyes across the diner, we would never be more than enemies with a shared bloodline.
I never imagined he would stoop so low as to involve himself in forced breeding. This is a line he can never recover from crossing. One that will cost him his life.
Forcing myself to walk away from my parent’s picture, I grab my keys and step into the garage. Driving around the city aimlessly might not accomplish much, but what else is there to do? I won’t be able to sleep properly until we’ve dismantled this entire breeding operation.
Hours of chasing empty leads find me sitting at the counter in a twenty-four-hour diner. The greasy floors and weathered benches leave much to be desired, but each bite of my burger tastes better than the last. It’s surprisingly crowded for three in the morning on a Tuesday. I must have accidentally discovered a local hot spot.
Someone claims the seat beside me. Porter’s familiar mossy cedar scents briefly hits me over the scent of fryer oil and burgers cooking on the grill. He orders a soda and a burger, not saying anything for a long while. Only after he’s eaten, does he lean back in his chair and look at me. “Kid, you need to find a pack. Or a girlfriend. Living for the agency is admirable, but what point is there if you don’t have a life outside work?”
I tried to find a pack. Dated around a bit. Nothing ever felt right. I can’t force Fate to make paths cross faster. “Don’t worry, I have all my vacation days saved up for when I find them.”
He lets out a dramatic huff and rolls his eyes. “Use them now. You know HR will never sign off on ten years’ worth of saved vacation time.”
Grinning, I shrug my shoulders. “Never know till I ask ‘em, will I?”
Porter laughs, throwing several bills down on the counter before we leave. “Go home. Get some sleep. I mean it, Barrett. If I catch word of you working today, I’ll put you on desk duty for a month.”
Staring up at the bleak sky, I relent. One day of rest won’t impede us from bringing these bastards down.
“Okay assholes, listen up!”
I slow to a jog around the gym track when Porter calls us all in. I’d taken a day off, but my thoughts are still narrowed to putting an end to Marcus and the breeding ring.
Our team gathers around a table at the front corner where a file folder is waiting for us. “One of our CIs gave us a link between the Eternals and the breeding ring. Their new leader, Leon Burke, is related to the current leader of the Alabama anti-designation chapter. Cousins.”
We share matching looks of disgust. No one here agrees with that bullshit. How anyone in the modern world can, is beyond me. I suppose science-based facts aren’t enough to overcome years of ingrained hatred and bias.
“With this knowledge, and the known drug trafficking routes for the Eternals along the East Coast, we also have a new lead on one of their breeding camps.” He spreads the aerial photos in the folder out on the table. It’s an old airplane hangar, worn from years of disuse. Grass has taken over the runway, but fresh gravel leads away from the building.
