Page 64 of Devil's Azalea

I push away the prickle of unease and rush around Greg’s pretentious desk to lean down and hug the woman I’ve come to see as a mother figure. “How was your meeting with the governor, Miss Hotshot?” I tease.

She smiles faintly, running a hand through her immaculately pulled-back hair, still pitch black. I know she has salon appointments every Saturday to keep it that way—she insists she’s not ready for grey hair.

The dark hair gives her a youthful appearance, but subtle signs of age show in the crinkles around her eyes, the little dips in her forehead when she frowns, and the soft brackets at the corners of her mouth. None of it detracts from her beauty, and her brown eyes are as sharp as ever.

They’re scrutinizing me now. “It was fine. Why don’t you have a seat?” She nods towards the chairs across from her.

I frown but make my way over and sit down. I guess this must be a formal meeting then, because she never cares where I’m standing or sitting during our conversations. Unless she’s about to break news of a new mission. “What’s up?” I ask, crossing one leg over the other.

“You’ve been trying to dig into your father’s old case, and into Alfonso Moretti’s. Why?”

I blink, caught off guard. That… was not what I expected.

I was going to bring it up eventually, but I’m nowhere near ready right now.

“I–I just want to read everything again. To clear up some of my confusion,” I say carefully. “And I need to refuel my anger. You know—against Rafael. And everything he stands for.” Not a total lie.

She studies me for a long moment before giving a slow, regal nod. “I suspected you might go a little soft for him when you saw him again. First loves have a way of doing that.”

Relief washes over me. She believes me then?

“I understand your motive,” she continues, keeping her gaze locked on mine, unwavering and intense. “But I want you to stop digging into it. Youaregoing to stop.”

What?

My mouth falls open, and for a moment, I can’t form words. This is Stacey—my mentor, the woman who’s supported every crazy idea I’ve ever had. And she’s ordering me to stop looking for the truth?

22

EMILIA

“What?” I ask when I’m finally able to think past my shock. “Why? I’d think you’dwantme to go through it thoroughly so I don’t get complacent in my quest for revenge and?—”

“You won’t.” She cuts me off like I’m some junior agent wasting her time. “I’m also taking you off Jason Moore’s case, since you’ve made no meaningful progress on that. Same with the illicit medication supply chain. Since Katie was with you on both cases, I’m handing them over to her to handle on her own.”

My jaw drops. I launch from my chair, my palm smacking the desk in indignation. “What!? You can’t do that! Those aremycases, and I’m working my ass off to–”

“I can, and I will, Emily,” she says ruthlessly, cutting me off again. My chest heaves with emotion as I stare at her, searching for even a flicker of recognition—something. But there’s nothing. No affection, no familiarity in her expression as she continues, “You’ve worked hard these past few years. But you’re thirty now. Maybe it’s time to leave the fieldwork to the younger agents and take up a desk job. You can choose any office you like.”

No fucking way.

Swallowing the curses crowding my throat is hard, but I force myself to do so. Going off on her won’t make her change her mind. I inhale deeply, keeping my voice even as I point out the obvious. “Katie is the same age as me.”

If this is about age, that argument is not going to fly. I won’t let it. “And you stayed in the field until you were forty-five,” I add, hoping she’ll hear her own hypocrisy.

“You haven’t been producing the output you should,” she fires back. “You failed to deliver Jason. And now, instead of focusing on your active cases like you should be, you’re wasting time digging into an old one. You’re distracted—and distracted agents have no place in the field.”

Sothat’swhat this is about. Not my age. Not my lack of output. But digging into my dad’s old case.

I take in another deep breath, not wanting to let my anger show. “It’s only been a few days; Iwilldeliver Jason. And I’ve already made significant headway in the medication case. I know it’s Rafael and the Nightshades behind it. I just need to find undeniable evidence and compile it with their existing charges.”

Stacey watches me, eyes calculating, searching for cracks in my armor. Finally, she nods. “Good. Then you’re going to stop digging into the past. Focus on the cases you have, or risk getting removed from them.”

I give a sharp nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Only then does she smile and wave for me to sit back down. “Now tell me, how have you been enjoying winter in Manhattan? Is it my old bones, or is the cold especially brutal this year?”

She’s trying to reset, to smooth over what just happened with small talk about the weather. But there’s no smoothing this over. Not for me.