"Suddenly the summer, it's clear
I never had the courage of my convictions
As long as danger is near
And it's just around the corner, darling
'Cause it lives in me
No, I could never give you peace"

- Taylor Swift, "Peace"

Chapter Forty

Gabby slipped out of the room to find Beck.

Julian decided to come along to the interrogation after checking in with his team.

Quentin still hadn't been found.

The men were getting agitated and antsy at their boss's disappearance. It was incredibly unlike him, and it didn't match the intense passion for Greystone I remembered. However, the men didn't seem worried per se, but rather increasingly frustrated and angry.

Simon and Julian left the room first. I went to follow, but felt a firm yet gentle hand on my arm. My surprised eyes met Reed's.

"How are you?" he asked quietly, his voice low. He'd stepped closer to avoid being heard through the open door, and his eyes were searching mine again, leaving no room or opportunity for dishonesty. His gaze held me like I wished he could. Unflinchingly, unapologetically, unabashedly.

"I'm coping. Why'd you change your mind?"

The question tumbled out before I could stop it. Reed was standing so close; his hand was still on me. I was more disarmed than I should've been.

"About what?"

"An insider at Greystone. Why'd you change your mind?"

Reed sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, staring around the room before dropping his head again to my level.

"I never changed my mind, I always knew it was a possibility. I just didn't want you to think it was me... or think I couldn't protect you." His voice was ragged and hoarse as he admitted this, but his eyes never left mine. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to admit the very people who are supposed to protect you could be trying to hurt you instead."

He'd believed me the day I'd brought it up, but he'd shut me down, fearful I'd think it was him. I was ashamed to admit it was true. I had suspected him, as brief as it was.

"I trust you," I whispered, leaning closer. And I did. It was surprising, yet it made more sense than anything else I'd ever known. Relief flickered in his eyes as he searched for a lie, but found none.

"Good," he breathed.

Then our moment ended, an aching familiarity that reminded me of a deserted motel; where our maybes and almosts had slipped into empty nothings.

I followed Simon, Julian, and Reed back to the pair of doors that hid the interrogation set-up. This time I thought I knew what to expect, but I was surprised when Reed disappeared into the room with Warren. Simon followed him as Julian led me back to the viewing room.

Warren watched with quiet satisfaction as Reed stalked in. Reed had put up every wall he had as he crossed the threshold, becoming impassive and blank, but power still roiled off him in crushing waves. He was undeniably in charge. He settled at the table across from Warren and crossed his arms, his head slightly turned, allowing me to see his hard eyes as he evaluated the slimy man before him. Contempt was clear in his behavior, but he gave no other signs of warning to his prey. Warren slightly squirmed.

Good.

Simon sat next to Reed, calm and refined.

It was Warren who finally broke the silence, his mocking grin back on his face. "Simon, you brought a friend."

"Mr. Cawton, I'd like you to meet Mr. Reed Sterling," Simon fluidly replied. "He's the head of security here at Greystone."

"Had to bring in the big guns, huh? Not qualified enough for this, Simon?"

Warren had obviously cooled down in our absence, but he was lashing out again—it was a clear attempt to regain power over the situation.

"You can call me 'Mr. Gatz'. Mr. Sterling just wanted to meet the attempted murderer in interrogation three—the guy who fired a handgun at a politician's retirement party like a real winner."

Warren's nostrils flared, and agitation once again seeped into his posture. "We've been over this, Simon. I had nothing to do with that."

Simon seemed unfazed by Warren's harsh use of his name. Reed only remained unmoved and stony.

"Our analyst team confirmed you were in the country much longer than you said, Mr. Cawton. Tickets were purchased that verify your story, yet there's no record of a passenger actually claiming them," Simon said. "And while you did go to Dubai recently, you didn't arrive back in the states when you said you did, nor did you ever return to Dubai. In fact, you didn't arrive here a few days after the party, you arrived back the day before. So you were in the country at the time of the party, and you've remained here since. Would you care to explain why your story keeps falling apart?"

Warren's face was turning into a nasty expression of hatred.

"I demand a lawyer. You can't keep withholding one from me!"

"Who're you working with? Who's your inside source?" Reed's questions weren't loud as they suddenly filled the room, but they rumbled with cold fury and restrained emotion. It was a startling contrast to the soft tones he'd used with me; the ones that'd soothed me moments before, when we'd stood inches away from each other.

I'm still not over that. Truly a crumb of a moment, but jeez.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Warren said, brushing it off.

"Someone at Greystone helped you into the party," Reed icily replied. "Who was it?"

"Wow, I knew you guys were bad at your job if a shooter got in, but you're corrupt, too?" Warren whistled mockingly. "Some security teams you got here, huh?"

Reed's body coiled so tight I feared he would snap.

Relax. This is Reed. He can control himself.

"Why were you after Avery Woodsen? Because you think she showed you up by taking you and your bullshit company down?"

"I've already said I had no idea who she was until today. And you're wrong, my company was helping the world. We were going to do big things if the government hadn't gotten so nervous about being caught," Warren spat.

His expression changed ever so slightly. He'd said something he wasn't supposed to.

"Caught?" Simon picked up on it, too. "Why would the government worry about being caught?"

Warren sat back, evaluating his options before speaking. Finally, he snidely admitted, "Seaplast was government sanctioned."

"We know that," Reed said impatiently. "Seaplast received federal funding before being exposed."

"Yes, but Seaplast was never really 'exposed', at least not to the government. There were plenty of people who knew what was happening."

"You're bullshitting us. Seaplast wasn't caught for years because of underfunded inspections, not because it was allowed."

That's what I'd told him—because that's what I'd been told.

Warren barked out a harsh laugh. "Oh yeah, those departments are underfunded, alright, but they get by fine if you consider all the bribes they get. They get 'em every year; y'know, by us, other departments, the elected big guys."

"What are you saying?" Simon asked intently.

"There were plenty of people who knew about us. We were doing fine until a whistleblower threatened to come forward, saying he'd expose everything. It was some anonymous do-gooder, wanting us to cry for the whales, or some shit. Then the guys in office got nervous and backed out. They tipped off those damn researchers to take us down, wanting to keep the government's hands clean and eliminate the problem."

"So they could ensure when you went down, it would on your own," Simon pieced together. "Better to coordinate your downfall the way they wanted than leave it to someone else. Especially if it's a whistleblower."

"Cowards. They even pulled strings with the justice department to make sure we lost after that," Warren said bitterly.

"So that's what you meant by the prosecution did whatever they needed to win. There was illegal interference. It was the final nail in the coffin for the company."

"Who was it?" Reed asked. "Who was the government point of contact? Your brother?"

"That son of a bitch only cares about himself."

"What is this, some family betrayal bullshit?"

"Your own brother threw you to the wolves to save his own ass." Simon almost chuckled, oozing amusement at the wicked bloodlines choking the family tree of the man before him.

"Why'd you go after Avery Woodsen?" Reed demanded. "What part did she have in this? Why go after her at that party?"

Reed wouldn't give up. He'd keep asking; I knew he would. But despite his relentless battling, I couldn't decide if I was ready to hear the answer. Was I ready to hear why the pillars of my life, and the justice system I'd sworn to be just, had crumbled to ash around me?

Yes. Let the bullshit end. Let the lies erode and the truth come out, as corrosive as it may be to what I have left.

Warren tsked in response. "Oh, c'mon now. I didn't say anything about Avery Woodsen, or the party. You may be able to prove I was in the country, but you can't prove I was there that night."

He's right, he didn't say anything about me. He only corrected Reed about Seaplast.

"Cut the bullshit, Cawton. She had no real involvement in any of this."

That isn't what Simon told him. Simon made it sound like I was the cause of his downfall.

"This sounds personal. You two sound close. Ah, did forbidden romance bloom between the bodyguard, and poor, victimized Avery?" Warren was taunting Reed now.

"Watch it," Simon warned.

Reed looked like he wanted to throttle Warren. I couldn't even process his jabs, my head was too busy spinning from his claims. Neurons were soaking in what Warren had admitted, collecting the debris from the explosive pellets he'd launched, and accepting what they'd formed.

People knew what Seaplast was doing. His brother... and who else? What other higher-ups in government had condoned this? Did Cruz know? Was Cruz involved in this?

Which one of my coworkers had accepted corrupt help? Which one of my coworkers had been a part of this scheme? Was our team so desperate for wins we'd accepted help from the very people who'd committed the crime?

Sure, we made deals with criminals all the time. A lighter sentence in exchange for information, a pardon for a morally gray trolley car conundrum, exoneration for wrongly accused victims—but that? That was off the books. That was accepting help from corrupt government officials and letting them off scot-free. And for what? To take down their partners, who shouldn't've been able to do what they did in the first place, anyway? This was wrong, even more so than the pick-and-choose of sacrificed justice.

Everything I thought I knew was deteriorating, but it still didn't explain why I was targeted. While Simon had just told Warren it was me, there was no reason for Warren to think that before today. The lack of answers was overwhelming.

It made me feel powerless. Powerless, and angry. Very, very angry.

"You can claim you weren't the shooter all you want, Mr. Cawton. Our analysts are going through your phone and laptop now. We'll find what we need, and with this new information, we'll have no issue proving it. Thank you for clarifying your motive." Simon stood, fixing his sleeves.

We didn't have all the answers. We didn't know why I'd specifically been the one chosen for the bullet, but maybe we had enough right then to force another regrouping. We knew why Warren had it out for the AG's office—and it went way beyond just losing the trial. Seaplast had never had a chance. I wouldn't be surprised if his vendetta had included the other puppeteer government officials, as well.

Richard Cawton and other unnamed politicians had hidden Seaplast's wrongdoings until someone threatened to expose them. They'd turned on Seaplast, and led the researchers to discover what the company was doing. But not only that, they'd coordinated with someone at the AG's office to ensure they wouldn't be touched, and ensure Seaplast would go down alone. Seaplast could've tried to fight back, but after going bankrupt and losing all credibility, there would've been little to do. They wouldn't have been able to say anything in court about the government partnership or the extent of their plans, because they would've implicated themselves in even bigger crimes. Richard and his partners were smart.

Flames licked at my skin, starting in my chest and spreading until my entire being was vibrating with heat. The anger thrummed in my veins, sticky and syrupy as my body moved.

Which one of my coworkers, who'd shunned me all those years ago, had betrayed the oath they'd taken to justice? Which one of my peers had laughed with me by the coffee machine, as they'd stabbed Lady Liberty in the back? Which one had betrayed the very ground our government was founded on? Which one thought it was okay to cut corners if the outcome was preferable? Who thought the ends were worth the means? Who thought the big picture may be worth sacrificing the details?

My feet were moving. The door slammed against the wall of the hallway as I shoved it open. One quick stride brought me to the door beside it, Julian's shocked protests only a muffled whisper in my ears. The fury flickered icy hot, the emotion boiled and bubbled, and the universe seemed to hold its breath as I slammed unforgivingly into the interrogation room.

I only had eyes for one man in that room—one man who was deserving of the wrath I itched to inflict. Hell hath no fury than a faithful soldier betrayed. My brain refused to acknowledge Simon's garbled, startled sound or Reed's tension as he leapt from his seat. It refused to accept Warren's look of surprise that melted into amused malice.

I felt the men of Greystone's uncertainty and confusion peak in the brief seconds it took to reach Warren. I felt it as Reed tried to reach to me, too far to pull me back, too far away to rescue me. I felt my name echo in the small room before it was shadowed by the sound of my hand slamming on the table, too blinded by rage to feel the sharp smack of pain burning my palm. For the slightest of split second, all three Greystone men seemed to freeze in various states of reaching to pull me back. Then Reed's eyes were no longer on me, but on Warren, watching his every move. Simon still looked at me in astonishment, and Julian speechlessly hovered behind me.

Warren didn't flinch at the harsh sound of metal meeting flesh. He only smiled like he'd been expecting me.

"Who was it?"

My voice filled the small room, lower and angrier than I'd ever thought it could be. It seemed impossible that the hard, steady voice flowing with rage had come from my own vocal cords, that their humming had produced such a dangerous sound.

"Avery Woodsen, I presume? Nice to meet you."

Warren's head tilted back as I leaned on the table, feeling the cold flare against my hot skin. I vaguely realized Reed had moved closer to me, but I felt no fear in that moment.

"Who. Was. It." The words were ground out between clenched teeth. I must've looked crazy, absolutely off my rocker, but I didn't give a damn.

"Who was what?"

"Who accepted the bribe? Who were the other asshole government officials that let you do this? Which lowlife scumbags did you bribe in those departments to let you pass inspection?" My words were spat out with shaking rage. I shook my head. "No, right now the biggest question I have for you is this, Warren: who was it on my team that accepted help from your brother? Who was it I worked with every day, who took a goddamn oath for justice, that still accepted corrupt help to win the case?"

Warren's face shifted—and my heart stopped.

Stopped, as the pieces fell into place. As the biggest question of all was answered. It'd lurked right under my nose. How had I missed it? Because it'd seemed so unthinkable, so unreasonable?

I realized, looking at the terrible man before me, that somehow I'd been regarded with more power than I'd ever realized. That a twenty year-old intern had been believed to be a part of something much bigger, and the question of why I was targeted and who started this were so deeply intertwined.

That it wasn't an unknown face in the office Warren thought, or was led to believe, was the in-between. Somehow, someway, it wasn't any head officials on the case he'd thought had done this.

It was me.