Chapter Sixty-Two: Carol's POV
Leon emerged from the side corridor. I swear it had been empty just seconds before.
His face showed no expression, but he already knew what I was planning to do and wasn't going to let me leave.
He didn't position himself directly in my path, but stood in exactly that spot.
To get past, I'd have to either fight or explain.
"Jack said you were handling something personally," Leon began. "He also said you don't want backup. That's interesting, because every training manual categorizes that kind of approach as suicide."
Before I could respond, more footsteps echoed from the other end of the corridor.
Marcus emerged from the shadows. The impossibly perfect timing made me suspect that mental bonds work better than any surveillance system.
Seeing me and Leon in a standoff, he showed no surprise at all.
This meant either Jack had secretly informed him, or Marcus understood me too well.
"Edmund Blackwood," Marcus walked straight up to me, no unnecessary pleasantries.
His voice was hoarse, like he was suppressing something. "The arms shipment Jack investigated. Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
"Edmund Blackwood," Marcus walked straight up to me, no unnecessary pleasantries. "The arms shipment Jack investigated. Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
"I'm just going to surveil the warehouse."
Even cornered by Simon's two most trusted people, I kept my voice as steady as possible.
"I need to confirm what's stored inside, document their connections with hostile packs, and return with intelligence. This isn't reckless, this is reconnaissance."
"Reconnaissance requires backup. It requires support, extraction teams, people ready to intervene at any moment," Marcus said, arms crossed over his chest. "The kind of operation you just described leaves you with no way out if anything goes wrong. Simon would never approve of this."
"Simon isn't here," I said.
The air went quiet. We all knew Simon had been unconscious for weeks, and every decision I made was mine alone.
I repeated, my voice softer. "He's not here. So these decisions fall to me. I'm going alone."
Before Marcus and Leon could speak, a new voice came from down the corridor.
"Investigating Edmund's warehouse? I'm coming with you."
Derek emerged from the side corridor, his face showing that eager, determined expression.
He'd already changed into tactical gear, clearly having listened for a while, or waiting for a chance to insert himself into what I was planning.
"No," I refused immediately, without thinking. "This is reconnaissance, not a raid. I need quiet, so I have to go alone."
"You went alone on the moonshine operation, but I followed anyway," Derek said with that stubborn look I knew arguing would be useless against.
He'd already made up his mind.
"If I remember correctly, that turned out pretty well. We destroyed the entire distribution network, and nobody died."
"The moonshine operation was different," I started to say, but Derek was already shaking his head.
"Different how? Because the target wasn't as dangerous? Or the stakes weren't as high?"
He took another step forward. "In that warehouse, you saved my life. Took claws meant for me. So I'm not letting you walk into that kind of situation alone again. Either let me help, or argue with me until dawn."
He had a point, annoying as that was to admit.
The longer this conversation dragged on, the more time we wasted.
If anyone else overheard, either they'd get involved too, or worse.
But bringing Derek meant accepting responsibility for his safety.
"This isn't a negotiation," I said, voice firm enough. "I'm going alone. That's final."
I pulled out the authorization document from my jacket pocket, the one Simon had signed before his last mission, granting me temporary authority to make tactical decisions in his absence.
I carefully unfolded it and held it out so Marcus and Leon could see the signature at the bottom.
That handwriting, confident, decisive, unambiguous, just like him.
"This document authorizes me to make tactical decisions in emergencies," I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "Edmund Blackwood running weapons through hostile territory into Seattle constitutes an emergency. I'm invoking this authority and ordering you to stand down."
Derek still stood there, fists clenched at his sides, looking like he wanted to argue further but couldn't figure out how to counter.
I turned to face him directly, rolled up my sleeve, and exposed my forearm where the rescue operation's claw marks had healed into pale scars.
"This is what I took for you," I said, "You want to repay that debt? Then stay here. Stay safe. Let me do what I need to do without having to worry about protecting you if things go wrong."
Derek's face flushed red, shame and frustration warring in his expression, but he lowered his gaze and said nothing.
I turned back to Marcus and Leon.
"Jack's intelligence says Edmund has sentries posted around the warehouse perimeter. If you follow me, if any pack members approach that location, they'll be exposed. The security system is specifically designed to distinguish werewolves from ordinary humans. Wolf characteristics trigger detection as soon as they get close. But I can pass as human enough to fool their detectors. And I have abilities they don't know about that can take down guards without triggering alarms."
I was letting them understand this wasn't impulsive.
I'd thought this through repeatedly, and I was clear about my unique position.
Sometimes, being neither fully human nor fully wolf wasn't a burden but an advantage.
Leon and Marcus exchanged a glance.
When Marcus turned back to me, his entire demeanor had shifted, not agreement, but understanding he couldn't stop me, and further argument would only waste time.
"You have until dawn," Marcus finally said. "If we don't hear from you by six AM, we're bringing people to find you." He paused, the lines on his face barely perceptibly relaxing. "Simon gave you this authority for a reason. Don't make us regret respecting that trust."
Leon said nothing more. He silently shifted his gaze and stepped aside, clearing the passage.
I didn't look back. The corridor was long, and I walked to the end, down the stairs, to the garage.
The drive to the warehouse district took longer than I'd imagined.
Every red light felt like an eternity, every empty street reminding me that I was about to be completely alone.
I parked three blocks from the target location, a spot that offered multiple escape routes while keeping it concealed from casual observation.
When I stepped out, the night wind was cold, carrying the salty smell of seawater. The air was mixed with industrial smells, oil, rust.
I adjusted my tactical vest, checked the knife in my boot one last time, then approached the target on foot.
I used shadows and stacked shipping containers to cover myself, moving forward slowly.
The guards around the warehouse weren't numerous, but they were professionally deployed.
They watched key entry points, with obvious gaps in their patrol routes—either understaffed or deliberately leaving openings to funnel intruders toward heavily monitored areas.
I moved along the wall, using the methods Marcus had taught me, every step careful, watching the pattern before advancing.
The first sentry appeared exactly where Jack had marked.