Page 39 of Deadly Reckoning (Broken Ashes #7)

We head toward the doors, before we get there, Doc asks quietly, “How do you want to play this? Would you like me to come into the interrogation room with you, or would you like me to wait outside?”

I take a moment to think about it, and we slow down to allow me a little bit of extra time.

“Can you stay on the other side of the glass, please?” I ask him.

He nods, “Absolutely.”

“Thank you,” I say as I squeeze his hand.

We carry on walking for a moment before Doc adds in a voice as cold as death, “If he threatens you in any way, I will be in there, the cameras will be off, and I will fucking make sure he regrets it.”

“Thank you,” I reply, after a moment.

It really does help, knowing that someone has my back. For many of our interactions, when he got considerably worse, no one had my back, and in fact, several of the slimy fucks that he employed after he changed, used to join in.

So knowing that Doc will be in there if I need him to be, that means a lot.

He chuckles slightly, although his laughter has an edge to it, “Most people wouldn’t thank me for that.”

“I’m not most people,” I reply sincerely, as I glance over at him.

He smiles, pulling me under his arm and kissing my head, “Thank fuck for that.”

We move apart as we get closer to the imposing building and switch into work mode instead, as I reluctantly let go of Doc’s hand.

As we get to the doors, we both swipe our ID badges and even have to do a retina scan, which is super fucking cool.

HID definitely didn’t have anything like this, and I’m not just saying that because I never saw it or had access to it, even their interrogation rooms didn’t have proper locks on them. If the prisoner was really motivated, then they could have gotten out of the room pretty fucking easily.

This place is incredibly high-tech and possibly the most secure place I have ever been in. As a former criminal who is still somewhat morally grey, being inside makes my ass pucker.

I don’t like being confined in here, and I can only imagine how much Dimitri hates it.

He’s not going to be able to shift at all while he’s here, or he will give away what he is.

He can’t do that.

No one should know what kind of supernatural he is. I am one hundred percent certain of that, and the Voices rise in volume as they mutter in agreement with my thought, proving me to be correct.

I don’t know why it's so important, but then again, I don’t really know much these days.

Actually, that’s a lie. I know far too much and not enough all at the same time.

I need to fucking focus.

We go through several more layers of security and are then led by a very heavily armed guard deep into the prison and down several stories.

I know that they keep the most dangerous supernaturals deep within the earth, apart from those with an affinity with it, who are housed far away from it and high up in the building instead.

Of course, they’ve put Dimitri down here, not knowing what kind of supernatural he really is, not that it would make a difference, because he doesn’t have an affinity with the earth, so even if they did know what supernatural he was, they would still put him down here.

I’m rambling.

In my own mind.

Well, that’s not a great sign. It’s not unexpected, but it’s definitely not a great sign.

I wish I had Betty with me.

“You okay?” Doc says quietly, clearly sensing that my mind has run away with me again, or maybe he can tell from the expression on my face.

I nod.

While I am rambling in my mind, I am actually okay. I’m nervous as fuck. I haven’t seen him in a really long time, and I don’t know what my reaction is going to be. He makes me feel a lot, and he always has.

I’m also really worried about whether I’m going to look at him and see all of the shitty stuff he did while he was under Casimir’s control. It’s really important to me that I can move past that.

I know that’s not the purpose of this meeting though, and I need to remember that. We are, after all, being filmed.

We need to know what he knows, and I need to know if he really has been controlled this whole time or if he’s just managed to trick us all.

He’s smart enough, he’s diabolical enough.

I wouldn’t put it past him to pretend to care enough that he would help me in a panic attack just so that he could get me here for some unknown reason that only makes sense to him, but is completely unhingingly, that’s a word I’m sure of it, genius.

“How would he have faked the memories and the feelings attached to them though?” the logical part of me asks.

I force my feelings away. I’m here to do my job, and because he’s refusing to give anyone else the information that we very much need in order to bring the Blue Fucker, or rather Casimir, down.

I’m going to keep my cool in here as well as I can. I owe it to myself.

Expect the worst, be surprised at the best.

I don’t think that’s a very healthy way to deal with this situation actually. It’s too late now though, because the serious guard, who's wearing a lot of concealed weapons as well as the obvious ones, stops in front of a set of side-by-side doors.