7. Chapter Seven

First contact.

They know about me and would never dare show up here unless they had proof.

It shattered my plan into a million pieces. I lost the air in my lungs and my train of thought. A strange lightheaded feeling hit me, and I felt strangely bold for a moment.

There's no way. They didn't catch me being supernatural. This…this can't be happening.

"First contact?" I asked, leaning forward and daring to laugh. "What? Am I a fucking alien? What are you talking about?"

They looked between each other, and Collins was the one who reached into his pocket, pulling out a simple, harmless USB stick—it should have been harmless, but I knew what sort of damaging information could be kept on those little fucking things.

"Reactions like yours are common," he said, putting it down gently on the desk, moving slowly for me. He was smart enough to be cautious.

Or he knows enough to be cautious.

"I bet," I said, letting the disbelief drip from my tongue like acid.

"Now, first contact isn't as bad as it sounds. We at the BSA don't out people for their status as supernatural. Normally, we open a dialogue to work with the new supernatural. We just become…handlers, in a sense, until the negotiations are done. We just want to make sure human laws are being followed, and if you are edging around the laws, they're for reasons we can allow. Financials are often something we turn a blind eye to unless there's evidence of insider trading. Normally, supernaturals keep their money clean, though, even if it's under fake names. Once we're done, we switch with someone experienced to work with you in the long term."

Yes, we keep our money clean. We hire the best to do that. Hasan told me never to worry about that sort of thing.

"I'm still wondering how you can possibly think I'm a supernatural," I said, blinking, pretending to ignore what he was trying to explain. "Is this some way of pulling my leg for getting pissed at an agent you sent to Heath last year? He's a friend. I'm protective of him, he's a wonderful father, and she was a hateful bitch. She wanted there to be something wrong with me because it was pretty obvious she didn't like how I was so trusting of the werewolf family. What was that woman's name…"

"Agent Robinson, who was promptly reassigned from interacting with supernaturals and has been reprimanded for her behavior," Collins said, crossing his arms. "Why don't you just…take a look?" He slowly pushed the USB closer to me.

I finally grabbed it and plugged it into the USB slot at the back of my keyboard. While they watched, I turned on the monitor from my desk, punched in my password, and clicked to the new folder waiting on my desktop.

It popped up and destroyed my life.

I didn't need to click the images. I could see the night vision images with clarity just from the surveillance. High quality, trail cam surveillance of me jogging past on a broken-in trail I used as a werecat. I could see the detail of my stripes in the strange green vision of the world. I could see my long fangs, just over four inches of bone ready to kill. A later picture showed matted fur, right after my kill.

"Looks like I have a prehistoric beast in the area. Thanks for the—"

"Click the video," Collins said, no longer entertaining my denials. He wasn't annoyed like his partner; he wasn't angry. He was talking to me like he would talk to a child who didn't want to admit she stole cookies from the kitchen. If anything, he was too patient.

The video was the last file and filled the forty-two-inch screen. The sun was going down, and I could see my house through the trees. My heart pounding, I watched as I walked onto my front porch completely naked. My face wasn't blurred, but someone had been nice enough to blur my private areas.

I felt sick to my stomach.

How kind of them. How so fucking kind of them.

"When we opened the investigation on you, we were of the same mind as the gentleman downstairs. We believed you were a werewolf who lived off the radar. We tried to talk to you about it just over a week ago, but we couldn't get your bartender to find you for us. It's obvious he protects you. So, we decided we needed hard evidence and completed our official investigation by installing surveillance on your property. With the evidence, we were going to give you and Heath Everson a firm reminder that werewolves who operated businesses in the United States had to disclose that information. It's the law. It's one thing to take a background role in hopes people ignore it, but you flatly denied it."

"Because I'm not a werewolf," I whispered, unable to tear my eyes off the screen. It was a horror show of my own making. As the sun went down, the camera flipped into night vision, but even that couldn't obscure what it was filming. There was no reason to deny it anymore—they knew I wasn't a werewolf.

I Changed, right there on my front porch, caught by a camera that had to be farther away than it appeared. It was zoomed way too close on me, catching the detail of my bones and muscle moving under my skin, my fur growing out, and the deadly long fangs extending from my own, very human canines.

When it was done, I darted off-screen, far more agile than I should be as a nearly five-hundred-pound prehistoric cat.

"You are most definitely not a werewolf. We've never seen anything like you before," Collins said softly.

I wasn't paralyzed. In fact, I had never felt a more pressing need to get up and move around. I put my hands on the desk, trying to think. I wanted to pace. I pushed myself to a stand and saw how the agents reached for their sidearms.

"Miss Leon—"

"I just need to stand," I whispered. I finished my movement and took a step back from my desk, turning to look out the window behind it that looked over my beautiful trees.

The beautiful trees that were obviously no longer safe for me.

Nowhere was safe for me anymore.

Not even my own territory.

I wanted to vomit. Something insidious crept through me, a feeling I had little experience with. I crushed it, needing to think. I didn't have time to indulge it.

"What are you planning?" I asked, refusing to look at them.

"We're not…planning anything," Collins said, clearly choosing his words with care. "We're here to open a dialogue with you and your kind. You're the first thing we've ever seen like you, and we're not in the business of outing the supernaturals we find. We know there are thousands out there, but there are many we can't prove. The United States of America holds the position that we need to understand all the creatures that live within our borders. We need to be able to work with you. Since you're the first of your kind ever found, you find yourself in the unique position of being someone who can help us."

"How?" I asked, not bothering to elaborate.

This was never supposed to happen.

"Well, you can tell us how your kind works—"

"No," I hissed softly. "How did you figure out I'm not human?"

"You want to know about our investigation of you?" Miller huffed. "We don't—"

"It started a couple years ago, Miss Leon," Collins said quickly. I didn't turn around, but it was clear he was shutting Miller down before the younger one could say something stupid. "The coup in Dallas."

My blood ran cold. My hands were shaking, so I folded my arms and tucked my hands near my armpits to steady them. Looking into my woods, I tried to find solace in them that was continuing to escape me.

"The coup," I said as the memories came back to me—Carey's amazing run to get me to protect her, her being taken, me stupidly and bravely going into the city to get her back to protect her again because I couldn't bring myself to admit failure. She had been such a young girl. I couldn't fail her. "I remember the coup."

"We had never heard of you before, but during the coup, there were whispers about a woman who helped Heath Everson defeat the uprising and save his children. We were all sad to hear Richard had been lost, but at least Heath got his two youngest back. We heard about a woman people didn't really want to talk about to us, not in any fashion, official or unofficial."

I wanted to laugh, but the feeling was bitter. I hadn't known they had given Richard a tragic death. He'd been the greatest betrayal of the night.

They were sad to hear he died?

I had killed him to protect his sister.

"It's illegal to out another supernatural," I explained as if the words were coming out on autopilot. "If they had told you about me, they would have forfeited their lives."

"We're the United States of America. We could have protected them."

"You keep believing that," I said, hearing and regretting the deadpan way I spoke those words. It turned the words into a dangerous threat. I didn't say them with a laugh but with the utmost confidence. The United States could never protect someone from the Tribunal. They would be crushed.

"We're not here to exchange threats," Miller said, definitely playing the more aggressive of the partners.

"If the coup didn't give me away, what did?" I asked, ignoring his little outburst. I turned back to them but stayed where I was. I was concerned about the sidearms. If I took a step toward them, they could put me on the ground if they didn't feel safe.

"We heard several disturbing things, but mostly, we could track you through Heath Everson. He only recently stepped down from power, and while we didn't have him watched, we heard his name come up enough to keep record of everything. Heath helped save a werewolf in Seattle from a trip gone wrong. Reports were, they were kayaking, and the other three drowned. And there was this woman with him who made everyone a little on edge and annoyed he was with her. Then there was the Russian pack incident last summer," he said, tilting his head to the side as he waited for me to recognize that.

"I helped him save the wolf," I confirmed because they already knew that. "And I know all about Russia."

"Oh, Russia is the one we can definitely pin on you," he said, leaning over. I had a feeling Collins was pleased with himself, even though his scent betrayed nothing but pure confidence in what he was presenting. "You helped bring down a pack run by a despot who abused so many. When new werewolves are brought into the country, we interview every one of them. It's a deal we made with the North American Werewolf Council. Now, they're all coached well before they ever talk to us. While we were managing all the new werewolves, someone slipped and mentioned Heath…and Jacky in our company. We made the connection with you from your incident with our agents last year."

"Why are we telling her this?" Miller demanded.

"Because she's an interesting case," Collins replied, not looking at his partner. I stared down the older partner. To him, I was the most interesting thing in the world. He was genuinely enjoying unraveling this mystery to prove to me I wasn't as smart as I thought I was, or that he was smarter than a new supernatural who had hidden for so long. "Aren't you? When we got your name, we noticed some interesting…coincidences around you. We were able to trace back to your human identity because we knew what you looked like after learning your name. You don't talk to your human family any longer, hiding from them probably since you became what you are. While you were in Russia, they were on vacation."

"That's right," I confirmed. "I heard they had a lovely time."

"Your twin changed jobs at the same time."

"Not everything has to be connected," I said, warning in my tone. "I keep away from them because they were never a very good family. I keep away from them because I like living my own life. Now, I need to know what you want. Are you going to blackmail me? Are you here to get me to expose others? Let's fucking hear it." I couldn't hold back the snappy, snarling rage at the end. The fear ate at me. I didn't have training for this situation. This was never something Hasan and I had talked about. I was responsible for exposing werecats to the humans.

This was all my fault. Me and all my good intentions over the last two and half years led to this. Special Agent Collins had been kind enough to give me the entire detailed play-by-play of how they found out about me. Now, I had to pick up the pieces and figure it the fuck out.

My family is going to blame this on Heath. I know they are. They're going to tell me I was too close to the werewolves.

And they're fucking right.

"We truly just want to talk to you," Collins said, leaning forward again. I inhaled deeply, knowing my eyes went gold as I did. There was no anger on their scents, but for a quick second, there was fear. "We're trying to open a door for both our kinds. You don't have to live in the dark."

"I don't break any laws. If you just want to talk, then I think we're done here," I said stiffly. "I have nothing to say."

"Fine." Special Agent Collins got up first, gesturing for his partner to follow him. He didn't seem angry, as if he was expecting this turn. "We'll come back in a couple of days. Don't go anywhere, please. Maybe when you've had some time to think, you can start to see how this might be a good thing. Miss Leon, you're a supernatural who lives in secret. Imagine how your life could change if that wasn't the case."

I walked around my desk, keeping my hands curled under my arms, keeping them from being the threat. I opened my office door and waited. Eventually, the BSA agents relented and left.

"Two days," Special Agent Collins said softly as he passed me. I watched them walk down the hallway and saw Oliver coming up the stairs, his face a shade paler than I was used to. He glanced at the agents, then down the hall to me. The agents looked him over as well as he tried to press himself up against a wall to let them pass. Neither of us moved until the agents' steps on the stairs ended.

Oliver spared no time after that, walking down the hall to me.

"Jacky—"

"Shut it down," I ordered as he got to me.

"What?" he stumbled to a stop.

"They know. Shut it all down," I repeated. "I need to call my family."

I closed the office door in his face and locked it, my hands still shaking.

I need to call my family, but what the fuck am I supposed to say?