"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 46: Wrath

I fucked up. There was no better way to put it.

I fucked up and went to the mission despite other people's intuition telling me my idea wouldn't work.

Price seemed to have been on board, but I should have listened to the doubt that had been lingering in his expression when he watched me leave. Simon hadn't wanted me to go, and I should have either listened or at last waited for him to return from his own mission instead of thinking I could do something so huge after a year break.

If the mission hadn't been sabotaged by Mara, I wondered how far I would have gotten. Would we have caught Graves? Would we have been successful?

Staying as optimistic as I could, at least I survived the whole ordeal, right?

On the same coin, though, I was the reason why other people had either gotten hurt or killed.

"Come in," the gruff British voice came from behind the closed door once I grew some balls to finally announce my return with a knock.

His office was just as it always was, tidy and minimalistic. Although, he had more personal items decorating the room than Simon did, with a few knick-knacks here and there to quietly hint that was, in fact, British.

The bobble head of King Charles sitting on his desk didn't help, nor did the mug that said "BRI ISH" Soap had gotten him a couple Christmases ago.

No personal items, though. Never. None of them really had anything personal in their offices. No family pictures or drawing that their children might have drawn. Nothing to give away what kind of life they might have had outside the dangerous lives they led.

Head tilted down as he finished some paperwork, Price peered up to watch me walk in, his eyes flickering down to my bandaged hand. From the way he wasn't surprised to see it, someone must have told him about had happened.

When he simply gave the command, "Sit," there was no room to argue.

We sat in awkward silence as he finished up what he was writing before he finally set his pen down to take a lengthy sip of his coffee. Usually a tea drinker, the smell of the bitter substance was unmistakable, filling the room to mingle with the familiar tobacco.

"I trusted that your plan was goin' to work," he said eventually.

Disappointment was worse than anger.

I'd much rather him be angry at me.

My voice was forcibly even as I couldn't afford to be openly emotional in that moment. "I know." I paused before I added a sincere, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, even more visibly disappointed. "I don't want your apology. I want you t' help us like we originally agreed upon."

The reminder of the contract I signed when he brought me last autumn made my jaw tick. That was all he cared about, me finding Graves for him so we could prevent him from endangering people again.

Did I blame him for not caring about anything else? No. But it would be nice to actually have him care for once.

I shifted in my seat. "I fucked up."

"Understatement, Holland," he replied, leaning forward, forearms resting against his desk.

"I thought me going to Las Almas to Alejandro would work. Really didn't think I was goin' to be blindsided by someone in your task force."

My accusation caused his already clasped hands tighten, and I could see the whites of his knuckles bleed through his skin from where I sat. "I heard. I have also ensured the rest of our team isn't going to do the same."