Chapter 17
Gunnolf
T he elevator doors close with a quiet hum, and I catch my reflection in the polished metal. There’s no hiding the slight bruising and scratches along my neck. Damn, Val and her perfectly manicured nails. I shake my head, smirking despite myself. Maybe Kato won’t notice.
Who am I kidding? He’ll see it the moment he lays eyes on me—and he won’t let me live it down.
When I step into the office, it’s business as usual. Agents are moving from one room to the next, voices low and faces serious. But Kato, leaning against the conference room doorway, locks on me immediately. He cocks a brow, his mouth pulling into a knowing smirk.
“Trust you got plenty of rest?” he asks, eyes landing on the mark at my collar.
I clear my throat, shrugging nonchalantly. “Let’s just say some of us had a more… eventful night.”
Kato rolls his eyes but can’t hide the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Glad to see you’re looking… revitalized, Gun. Are you ready to make Marcus’s pals sweat a bit?”
“Oh, I’m more than ready.” I adjust my collar, shifting into work mode, feeling that familiar surge of adrenaline. Today, we’re going to dismantle the remnants of Crowe’s network.
Inside the room, Callie, Hati, and Minna are already seated around the table, reviewing notes and evidence. Callie nods at me, though I catch the glint of humor in her eyes. Yeah, I’m not hearing the end of this anytime soon.
Kato and I walk down the hall toward the interrogation room, where Marcus Crowe waits. His expression is steely and defiant, even behind the glass. He thrives on the illusion of control, but the smirk on his face tells me he thinks he still has the upper hand.
We step inside. Marcus doesn’t bother trying to stand since he’s cuffed to the table, but meets our gaze with mock politeness.
“Gentlemen,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure? Here to congratulate me on shaking things up?”
Kato’s eyes narrow. “You think this is a game, Crowe?”
“Oh, don’t look so sour.” Marcus flashes a grin. “I’d offer you both a drink, but”—he rattles his cuffs dramatically—”I’m a little tied up at the moment.”
I cross my arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. “We’re not here for your stand-up routine. Let’s talk about your team in Memphis—and wherever else you’ve got them stashed. Or did they leave you high and dry?”
He chuckles, giving me a slow, mocking once-over. “Oh, Wright, still so clueless. You really think you’re getting any of that out of me?” He leans back with a shrug. “Besides, they’ll be just fine without me. I trained them well.”
“Trained them for what, exactly?” Kato leans in, his voice dropping to a quiet threat. “Because if you don’t tell us, we’ll find them ourselves—and they won’t appreciate being left to clean up your mess.”
Marcus raises his eyebrows, feigning hurt. “Mess? I like to think of it as... expanding possibilities. Breaking the mold. They’ll write history books about this one day.”
I scoff. “You think this is going down in history? It’s going to end with you rotting in a cell.”
“Oh, Agent Wright,” he says, chuckling, “always so naive. This is just the beginning. You don’t know what’s coming, do you?” His grin widens, eyes gleaming with something darker.
“While you’re trapped in this little game, I’m the one they’ll be looking to. I’m the one they’ll need. When things fall apart, you’ll see.”
I lean close, voice steady. “The only thing they’ll see is your downfall, Crowe. When this is over, you’ll be nothing but a footnote in the report.”
He laughs, low and mocking. “Oh, Wright, you’ve got it all wrong. I’ll be the one they remember. You’ll see soon enough.”
Just as we prepare to leave, another agent steps into the room. “Wright, Blackwood, there’s someone you need to meet.” We follow him down the hall to a small conference room, where a sharp-eyed woman stands waiting. She stands as we enter, extending a hand toward Kato.
“Agent Connelly,” she introduces herself. “FBI’s special unit on cult operations.”
Kato raises an eyebrow, shaking her hand. “We’ve heard whispers of your group but didn’t expect formal involvement.”
“Given Crowe’s history and our intel it was only a matter of time,” she gestures for us to sit.
I smirk. “So now that we’ve done the dirty work, are you going to tell us what you know?”
Agent Connelly’s eyes gleam as she pulls out a thick file. Opening it, she reveals pages of notes, photos, symbols, and disturbing evidence.
I let out a low whistle, “You’ve been holding a lot back from us, haven’t you?”
“Marcus Crowe isn’t just running a criminal enterprise. He’s the head of a cult. We’ve tracked his involvement in various underground organizations, using the guise of ‘retaliation toward hunters’ to build a loyal, dangerous following. We believe that he started with genuine motives, but it appears that as his following grew, so did his ego.”
She spreads several documents across the table, showing records of recruitment meetings, coded messages, and chilling rituals designed to cement his followers’ loyalty.
“Crowe’s been rallying them for years, preparing them for something big. His mental powers go beyond manipulating matter in bombs. With the right nudges, he can manipulate his followers’ minds/actions as well.”
Kato’s jaw tightens as he studies the evidence. “So, this ‘organization’ of his isn’t just about vengeance, money, or influence. It’s about absolute control.”
Connelly nods. “Exactly. This list of contacts Crowe’s cohorts has provided you in their interrogations, could be the key to dismantling his operation before he, or his remaining crew, take it to the next level.”
Armed with a list of Crowe’s key organization members and Connelly’s intel, we move quickly. Within hours, we’re set for a raid on Crowe’s main Memphis hideout—a nondescript warehouse in Memphis’ outskirts. Our team gears up alongside Connelly’s, checking weapons and running through the plan one last time.
The van rattles as we approach the hideout, it’s quiet, almost eerie. My pulse quickens; we’re finally about to put an end to Crowe’s nightmare in Memphis.
I catch glimpses of the hideout—a warehouse half-hidden by trees and surrounded by chain-link fencing. The place feels dead like it’s holding its breath.
“Two minutes,” Kato mutters from the front, his voice tense, eyes fixed ahead.
I grip my weapon tighter. We’re here, ready to tear down Crowe’s network. The team exchanges a final look—no room for mistakes.
We split up as planned. Hati and Bruce break left, moving toward the side entrance while Callie covers our backs. Kato and I slip through a gap in the fencing, each step taken carefully, every sound heightened in the stillness.
“Clear,” Kato whispers after a sweep near the door. I nod, signaling with two fingers. With a swift kick, Kato breaks the lock, and we’re in, weapons raised.
A door creaks open across the room, and we freeze. Two of Crowe’s men emerge, deep in conversation, oblivious. Kato signals, and we move in sync. I grab one, yanking him into the shadows, while Kato tackles the other. A low thud, and he’s out cold.
We press deeper into the warehouse, where the main room unfolds. A table stacked with weapons gleams under a dim light, surrounded by ritual items—candles, jars of dark powders, rows of files. The tools of Crowe’s madness, all waiting for his next move.
Then, a door opens on the far side, spilling light. One of Crowe’s top lieutenants steps out, flanked by two guards. He stops, eyes widening as he recognizes us.
“Go!” Kato hisses, and the lieutenant bolts for the exit, his men scrambling after him.
Bruce and Hati appear from the side, intercepting one guard. Hati sidesteps and hits him with a punch that sends the guy crashing into crates.
I reach the lieutenant first, shoving him hard against the wall, my arm braced against his chest. “Game’s over,” I growl.
Kato’s voice crackles over the comm. “Sweep’s done. The place is packed with enough gear to arm a small militia. The few men still here are being hauled out to vans.”
The warehouse is cleared in under an hour. It’s full of evidence that confirms everything Connelly shared—Crowe’s operation was primed for chaos. He was ready to declare war.
Back at the office, Callie finds me while I’m removing my gear, her gaze steady.
“You did good today,” she says with a nod. “But… there’s something I need to say.”
I sigh, expecting a lecture.
“By all means, Callie. Don’t hold back.”
She folds her arms, her voice gentle but firm. “Look, I’ve known you a long time, Gunnolf. And I’ve seen you shut yourself off, convinced you’re too broken to deserve anything good because of… your past.”
My jaw tightens. “Broken, huh?”
She steps closer, her gaze softening. “If you want a future with Val, let that fear go. She won’t wait forever.”
Her words hit home. The truth I’ve been avoiding stares back at me, raw and undeniable. The thought of losing Val… it’s something I can’t bear.
“I guess you really are a sniper,” I mutter. Callie just smiles, giving my arm a reassuring pat before walking off, leaving me with more to think about than I’d like.