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“We humans fear the beast within the wolf because we do not understand the beast within ourselves.” ― Gerald Hausman

Axel

Alone in the FBI interrogation room, I long for a shower and a solid night’s sleep.

“Sir.” Bracing for the consequences of my actions, I stand at attention when my boss finally opens the door.

“Sit.” He taps his fingernails on the tabletop for the longest time, then lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t know whether to fire you or give you a medal. How the hell do you get mixed up in shit like this?”

I would blame my wife, but the decision to follow her into the hornet’s nest was mine. “I believe I am an experienced agent who can root out crime as it unfolds. You tasked my team with finding weapons of mass destruction. I'm convinced we accomplished said goal.”

He grunts. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

First, I describe how our next-door neighbor went missing. Next, I explain how my kind-hearted spouse booked a few spa days in the woods, hoping to find her. Then, I mention how her friends got involved and turned the weekend into a baby shower. “The facility had no previously reported incidents or red flags within the community. We had no reason to believe they were in danger until we arrived.”

“And yet, you had Special Agent Johnson vet the facility. Didn’t that raise concerns?” After pulling his reading glasses from his pocket, he stares at the reports before him.

“No, sir. I figured tax fraud or some other innocuous infraction.” This, too, was the truth, up to a point.

As I meet his steely stare, he leans in, and his voice goes lower. “Did you or your wife realize we had eyes on Dolly DeClaire?”

What the fuck? Swallowing back a string of curses, I tamp down my ire. “Perhaps this was something you might’ve mentioned. Sir.”

“OPR forbade it.” His words hit me like a slap across the face.

No fucking way. It takes a moment to release my clenched jaw so I can speak. “Our people thought I was dirty and had me investigated?”

Palms down, he waves me to stay seated. “Calm yourself, Special Agent Wulf. You’ve made some enemies, son.”

The internal suits knew Dolly was a threat and let my spouse think otherwise? I unclench my fists, wiggle my fingers, then take some deep breaths before I say something I might regret. “Did they suspect my wife was working with her? Or better yet, me?”

My boss rubs his neck and studies a crack in the far wall. “No one thought anything. We were searching for facts.”

“Well, you damn well found them.” A lot more makes sense now. “Allow me to ask— Who was thisDeClaire woman?”

“A turned CIA agent by the name of Janet Smith. The agency asked for assistance bringing her in.”

Smith? Seriously? Using maximum self-control, I do not roll my eyes. While I have way more questions, I hold them for now.

Mouth grim, my boss furrows his brows. “How about you explain how Patten Securities got involved?”

I do not doubt that he expects me to admit I called them for help like the last time Gwen got into a bind, but this time, I am innocent of the infraction.

“Well, Slate’s wife was the baby shower’s main attraction. A bit overprotective, he insisted on driving her to the party. During the trip, his analysts learned how these day spas are a front for survivalists camps.” That, too, would’ve been critical information the FBI could’ve supplied earlier.

Biting my tongue, I stick to the facts. “Because all her friends were waiting for her, she ignored her husband’s warnings and proceeded as planned.”

“And he agreed to this?” His tone implies he thinks I’m lying but fuck him. I’m not.

“An ER doctor, she’s a rather strong-willed individual. Nevertheless, Slate had his team put a drone in the air. That’s when we saw the murder I noted in my report. Have you found out who she is?”

“We believe she was Janet Smith’s partner. We’re looking for a motive, but if I had to guess, the rogue agent was cleaning up loose ends. Explain to me, once you witnessed her death, why you didn’t call us in?”

Thank God, I have a valid excuse. “Lewis had a disrupter. He killed the WIFI and 5G in the area. He then rationalized it by telling his people an EMP bomb went off. With his Jim-Jones-like appeal, his people believed him.”

“So, you couldn’t phone in for backup yet went in anyway. How convenient.” His eye roll is meant to set me off, but I’m no rookie.

I keep my cool. “No, sir, it wasn’t. It was a shit show.” I go on to explain about the data dot, the underground tunnels, the insane cult leader, and how the Patten men were barely able to rescue our women. By the time I finish, sweat rolls down my spine.

“At the end, Gwen insisted on leaving with Dolly… or Smith, if you will.” I relay the story at least fifteen more times. When I’m finally allowed out, I race to where my wife sits so I can hug her to my chest.

After a long, heated kiss, she cups my cheeks to catch my gaze. “I called the president and told him what happened. He said he would smooth everything over.”

“Of course you did.” I put my arm around her waist, limp to the door, then jump into the Secret Service’s waiting limo.