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The look on Morley’s face struck Nick as another of his masks. Whatever was going on behind it, Nick would likely never know… not unless the detective told him. Then again, Morley always knew more than he pretended.

He definitely knew more about what was going on than most people credited him.

“I think we should put him on this right away,” Morley said, glancing back up at the chief. “I think, given the family connection, we should at least have him on as a consultant. He might see something we miss. But I’d prefer to have him reinstated and put on as one of my lead detectives. At least for the Manhattan side of the investigation. We don’t need to mess with what’s going on in Long Island… not unless they want us there.”

“We don’t,” handlebar mustache muttered.

Morley didn’t give him a glance.

His eyes never left the chief.

Acharya exhaled.

He glanced at the two detectives who brought Nick in.

A lightbulb went off as Nick realized just how badly the two Long Island detectives screwed up. They used their connection to the Upper East Side murders as an excuse to pick up Nick, and it hadn’t even been their case. They’d wanted dibs on the arrest before Morley could get credit for the collar.

So they fucked up on multiple counts.

Both humans were glaring at Nick with death in their eyes.

Ignoring that, Nick glanced at the two H.R.A. officers who remained in their spot in the back corner of the room, directly under the second wall camera.

From their expressions, this was over for now.

For them, at least.

From the expression on the faces of the two I.S.F. agents who stood a few feet away from them, the feeling on that point was unanimous.

Acharya looked away from the racial authorities and back to Morley.

“All right,” Acharya exhaled again. “I guess you’d better run him through the protocol. I want every step of this done by the book.”

Nick stiffened.

He looked again at the two I.S.F. agents.

He knew exactly what the chief meant by “the protocol.”

He also knew what it entailed.

Giving it that misleading, neutral-sounding name didn’t make it any fucking better. Then again, they didn’t create the term for him. They created it so humans wouldn’t feel bad about what was essentially state-sanctioned torture.

Nick doubted they gave two shits what he thought.

“All right, Midnight,” Acharya said. “Go with them. You’re back on as of tomorrow. Providing you pass this and the physical.”

The I.S.F. agents were already walking towards him.

Nick grimaced as he looked around at faces.

He looked down at his cuffed wrists.

But he couldn’t fight this. He couldn’t.

He glanced at the two assholes who brought him in. For the first time since the conversation started, handlebar mustache guy and his partner openly grinned.

CHAPTER8