C.A.R.M.A

29

My head pounds while I try to take stock of the last twelve hours, and my eyesight is still blurry at the edges. And dear god, when was the last time I had some water?

I groan as more of my sore body wakes up, but my vision is clear enough for me to better take in my surroundings. Rows and rows of empty hospital style beds stretch down the room and a few nursing agents move about once they see I'm awake. A gentle laugh escapes me when I realize I'm in a long room I know all too well: the infirmary wing of our headquarters building. I smile at the thought of all the other agents I've put into this room and the times I've spent alongside them.

Taylor slumps in a chair next to my hospital style bed, a lock of her dark hair gently blows in the breeze from the open window. I look outside to see that either the sun hasn't come up yet, or night fell again and I've been out all day.

"Thea!" My favorite nurse, Jasmine, approaches me. "How are you feeling?"

She hands me a glass of water which I promptly drain, and Taylor stirs awake before I can answer Jasmine.

"Just what in the fuck actually happened down there?," Taylor immediately launches into an interrogation mood. Jasmine coughs under her breath and starts to check my vitals from the machines contacted to me.

"Where is he?," I counter. My voice feels like gravel coming up my throat and doesn't sound much better but I ignore the feeling. I need answers just as much as my mentor does.

"Which he?," She arches a brow and smirks up at me. Jasmine coughs again and starts to examine the dressing around my thigh.

I suck in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the mental and physical pain surrounding me, "Max."

Taylor sighs and stares out of the window. Jasmine doesn't miss the opportunity to tell me my recovery plan, "Thea, no killing anyone for at least a few weeks and I want you to use a crutch for at least two weeks. I know not to ask for more time than that. You'll just ignore me anyway." She pins me with a glare that she's perfected over the years of patching agents up. "I'll go get your crutch and pain medicine." Jasmine leaves Taylor and I alone, mumbling to herself about stupid agents.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, taking care not to pull out the IVs hooked up to me, and pin Taylor with a glare. "Max," I say again.

Taylor pinches the bridge of her nose, "It was Becca who figured it out, and came to find me around one in the morning." A small laugh, "banging on my door, screaming at me to get my ass up. I was so proud of her."

I chuckle, rubbing my ribs, at the thought of my brilliant friend yelling at the Head Vixen to come find me. To come rescue me, more like it.

"She said that she couldn't stop turning over the evidence in her head for hours, said things didn't click like they were supposed to for this case." Taylor sighs again.

I wait, knowing that pushing her won't get me to the answer any faster.

"Becca had Quinn in tow, of course. The three of you always did tell each other too much about the other's cases," she reprimands, which I ignore. "She went over the entire timeline of the case with Quinn, and that's when it clicked. Quinn has the piece we were all missing. She told Becca that she's forgetting that the case started a year ago, when Quinn saw Max in London. He told Quinn that he was planning on exposing what's been happening at Red Wolfe when they come to America in the fall."

"Why was Quinn in London?," I ask. She didn't mention anything about being close to Red Wolfe's base when we reconnected in September.

"A favor to me on her way back home from Norway," Taylor stares out the window, lost in thought for a moment. "Quinn was the one of the few agents I briefed about the rumors of Red Wolfe, and she was tasked to investigate enroute to Seattle. Last night, Quinn told me about how she saw Max, and how he lied that I sent him to investigate as well. Naturally, Quinn believed him and shared all of the intelligence she had about Red Wolfe."