REESE

chapter forty nine.

Third Person POV:

There was an outline of a panther on his door.

Despite the exhaustion that settled heavily onto Wright's eyelids, the minute the American agent laid eyes on the entrance of his home, the Bureau's training effectively nullified his sleep-deprived impairment.

A panther. Wright now knew of the permanence behind that symbol in the United States, his new informant Mauro Agrusa had made sure of that. Yet, despite having an invaluable advantage on intelligence bureaus around the world, the trepidation that came with the knowledge of the existence of the American mafia and their influence, was one that he was wholly unprepared to carry.

Six days ago, he and his team returned to the United States beyond frustrated and empty-handed. After the Vanderbilts had slipped through their fingers, Wright and his counter-terrorism unit spent weeks trying to recover the people they had lost.

They scoured every inch of Italy they could for the Vanderbilts, Di Genovas and even the Rutherfords, constantly pushing the lines of what was American jurisdiction and what was not. Despite their best efforts to undo their mistakes, eventually time ran out and in turn their resources, forcing them to return to their headquarters.

For Wright, the last few days had been a whirlwind of meetings, explanations and rightful shock in the highest levels of the Bureau. His boss, the Director of the FBI, had immediately called an emergency meeting with the White House Chief of Staff after Wright had come clean about the events that had transpired over the last month and a half.

The attacks, the discoveries, the rescue, the secrets, Wright had reached a point where keeping those secrets was not only eating him alive but they now had become a threat to American national security. He was left with no choice but to tell his higher ups everything and when a notice of suspension showed up on his desk not long after, he wasn't even a little surprised, resentful sure, but not surprised. He should have never taken Alexander Di Genova's deal and he should have never stepped one foot into France, the list of traitors wasn't worth it.

Now, there was a panther on his door, and despite the anger that simmered wildly beneath his skin at the mere insinuation of the American mafia, self preservation won away and the unfamiliar tendrils of fear swept in.

Instinct had him reaching for his gun.

Gripping the weapon out in front of him tightly, he cautiously tried the handle to his front door. "Damn." He muttered. It was unlocked. Just as he suspected, someone was definitely in his house. Stepping into pitch black, his training kicked in. "FBI!" He yelled roughly, knowing full well that if American mafia men were in his house, announcing his association was pointless. Met with silence, he continued his careful creep forward, sweeping the place slowly.

The house was bathed in darkness. He tried to rectify that problem by flipping on the lights but every switch he tried had failed. The power to the house was cut. He knew he should have expected as much but what confused him was the soft glow of lights pattering his living room wall in the distance. It was like someone had cut the power to the entire house and skipped over that one particular spot, like they wanted the house plunged in darkness but the TV on. The abnormality of the situation didn't escape him, yet the glimmer of lights lured him closer.

"FBI!" He repeated with his heart racing. "Come out with your hands up!"

Right when he reached the threshold of his living room and right after the horrifying realization that his TV was in fact off hit him, a smooth voice shattered the haunting silence.

"Hello, Owen Wright."

Wright's heart dropped straight down to his feet as he stared open-mouthed at the owner of that voice.