Reunion

The ride back to headquarters gave her time to think about the impossible mess she'd stumbled into.

If she reported what she'd actually seen—a dead operative with gray skin moving like something out of a nightmare movie—they'd have her in psych eval before she finished talking. But staying silent about Kaine being alive? That came with its own problems.

What the hell had happened to him during those eighteen months? And why disappear instead of coming home?

The smart play was keeping her mouth shut until she could figure out what was really going on. Take credit for the vampire kills, deal with whatever punishment Steele had waiting, and find answers on her own terms.

Because if that really had been Kaine who saved those recruits, she needed to know what he'd become before deciding whether to protect him or turn him in.

---

Shadowguard headquarters looked even more depressing in the harsh street lighting—all weathered art deco and institutional despair. Inside smelled like old coffee, stale cigarettes, and whatever industrial cleaner they'd been using since the eighties.

Her footsteps echoed off worn linoleum as she headed for the elevator. Other personnel were scattered around despite the late hour—night shift ops, admin staff, field teams coming and going. Their reactions to seeing her were all over the map.

Some stared like she'd grown a second head. Seven vampire kills, including high-generation hostiles, was legend-making material in an organization that fought monsters for a living.

Others looked away with that careful neutrality that screamed "I heard about your unauthorized deployment and I'm staying the hell out of it."

A few watched with obvious envy—career soldiers who'd spent years hunting vampires without achieving anything close to tonight's body count.

The elevator ride felt endless. By the time the doors opened on the third floor, she'd made her decision about how to handle Steele.

The hallway to his office was mostly empty, just the occasional night shift worker moving between administrative offices. Carpet that probably hadn't been cleaned since Bush Sr. muffled her footsteps.

She knocked twice on Steele's door—standard military courtesy, regardless of what she thought of the man behind it.

"Enter."

Colonel Marcus Steele sat behind his desk like he owned the world and found it disappointing. Cigarette smoke curled around him like a personal weather system.

"Major Gwen." His voice could have frozen bourbon. "Stay standing. This won't take long."

Of course not. He wasn't planning to give her time to explain herself.

"You directly violated deployment orders." He took a long drag, letting smoke punctuate his words. "Abandoned your assigned position, interfered with an authorized operation, put yourself in harm's way without backup or support."

Gwen stood at attention, hands behind her back, expression neutral. She'd been through enough of these sessions to know that interrupting would only make things worse.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? What happens when senior officers decide orders are suggestions?"

'I saved six recruits who would've died following your orders.'

"The Shadowguard operates on discipline, Major. Chain of command. When a superior gives an order, it gets followed—period. Without that, we're just armed civilians playing dress-up."

Another drag, more smoke joining the permanent haze around his desk.

"But maybe you think your recent success puts you above protocol." Steele leaned back, studying her like she was a bug under glass. "Seven vampire kills, three of them third-generation. Pretty impressive for solo work."

'If you only knew.'

"That kind of performance might make some officers think they can freelance. Make their own calls about deployment without considering the bigger picture."

She let him keep talking. Experience had taught her that the best way to handle Steele's disciplinary rants was to stay quiet and let him wear himself out.

"Here's what happens now, Major." He crushed his cigarette with unnecessary force. "Word spreads about tonight. About how a senior officer was present when multiple recruits got killed and wounded, despite successfully eliminating targets."

'This is about PR?'

"The optics are bad, Major. When people hear that even with experienced leadership, young soldiers are still dying in large numbers, it sends the wrong message about our competence."

'Young soldiers die because you send them against vampires without proper support.'

"Your unauthorized presence disrupted carefully planned operational parameters." He lit another cigarette, movements sharp with barely controlled anger. "Parameters designed to achieve specific strategic objectives that are beyond your pay grade."

That statement hung in the air like the smoke, and for the first time, genuine curiosity overrode her professional restraint.

"What strategic objectives, sir?"

Steele stopped mid-drag, realizing he'd said too much. For several seconds, only the air conditioning and fluorescent lights filled the silence.

"That's not your concern, Major."

'But it is. Because whatever those objectives were, they required twelve dead recruits.'

"Your concern is following orders. Maintaining discipline. Making sure this insubordination never happens again." His voice dropped to that quiet intensity that suggested real threat rather than bureaucratic bluster. "Because if it does, Major, you'll regret it in ways that'll make tonight look like a vacation."

'There it is. The implicit threat everyone knows about but nobody discusses.'

"Are we clear, Major?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good. Dismissed."

She snapped off a perfect salute, turned, and walked out with the measured precision of someone who'd just received orders she had no intention of following.

---

The door squeaked shut, leaving Steele alone with his cigarettes and thoughts.

Shit. Gwen's presence had destroyed months of planning.

But maybe there were advantages here. A senior officer taking down seven high-level vampires in one night was the kind of success that got attention from oversight committees and budget authorities. The kind that could be leveraged into equipment upgrades, personnel expansion, operational authority they'd been denied for years.

The question was whether the advantages outweighed the disruption to long-term strategy.

He lit another cigarette and studied the water stains on his ceiling. The Shadowguard was dying—not from vampire attacks, but from bureaucratic strangulation and governmental neglect.

The warehouse massacre would have generated the public outrage that forced political action.

But maybe there were other ways to achieve the same result.

Colonel Marcus Steele sat surrounded by smoke and decades of cynicism, planning futures that some people wouldn't live to see.

Again.

---

[Present day]

Gwen's phone buzzed. One of her contacts, voice tight with urgency: "Got sightings of a man with a large scythe and another weird-looking guy walking with him."

She was already reaching for her jacket.

"I'm coming, Kaine."