"Come on," she muttered, ending the call and immediately hitting redial. "Pick up the damn phone."
But the ringing just continued, followed by the impersonal voice telling her to leave a message. She'd already left three.
Gwen checked her watch— 10: 47 PM. She'd been trying to reach Kaine for over an hour, ever since she'd finally escaped the endless military briefings and bureaucratic discussions that had consumed her entire day.
Maybe he'd figured it out. Maybe Sarah Morgan's story had been too convenient, too perfectly constructed.
Or maybe he was just busy with other cases and didn't feel like dealing with flaky clients who couldn't keep appointments.
Either way, standing on a sidewalk making unanswered phone calls wasn't getting her anywhere. She needed information, and there was only one place to get it.
The walk back to Shadow Guard headquarters took twenty minutes through downtown traffic, giving her time to think through what she was about to do.
The headquarters building was almost empty. Most of the day shift personnel had gone home, leaving only skeleton crews and the night watch personnel who handled after-hours emergencies.
Perfect.
Gwen badged through security with the casual confidence of someone who belonged there, nodding to the guard who barely looked up from his crossword puzzle. The elevator carried her to the third floor, past Steele's empty office and down the corridor to the documentation center.
The door was propped open, spilling fluorescent light into the hallway along with the soft clicking of keyboards and the low hum of computer fans.
She could see Danny Morrison hunched over his workstation, surrounded by the multiple monitors and cable management nightmares that marked someone who spent their life making technology do things it wasn't designed to do.
Danny was maybe twenty-eight, skinny in the way that suggested someone who survived on energy drinks and vending machine food, with the kind of pale complexion that came from spending too much time in windowless basement rooms.
He'd been running Shadow Guard's digital archives for three years, and in that time he'd developed the reputation as someone who could find anything in the organization's databases—if you knew how to ask nicely.
"Working late, Danny?"
He looked up from his screens, blinking in surprise at finding someone else in the documentation center after normal business hours. "Major Gwen? What are you doing here.. this late?"
"Got called back for that inspection," she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "You know how it is."
"Yeah, heard about that. Jax and Silas, right? Those two don't show up unless someone's either getting promoted or getting court-martialed." Danny leaned back in his chair, studying her with the kind of analytical attention that came from years of spotting patterns in data. "So which is it?"
"Hopefully the first one." Gwen moved closer to his workstation, noting the security protocols displayed on his secondary monitor. "Listen, I need a favor."
"Figured as much. People don't visit the archive center at ten PM to chat about the weather." Danny's expression shifted to something more cautious. "What kind of favor?"
"I need to check a mission report from a few months back. Something that might not be in the standard accessible files."
Danny was quiet for a moment, considering the implications. He'd been around long enough to know that requests for restricted information during off-hours usually meant someone was investigating something they weren't supposed to be investigating.
"What's in it for me?"
Gwen had been expecting that question. Danny Morrison was helpful, but he wasn't stupid. And he definitely wasn't the kind of person who handed out favors without expecting something in return, especially when those favors involved bending regulations that could get them both in serious trouble.
"What do you want?"
"I want to go on a mission," Danny said immediately, like he'd been waiting for someone to ask that question for months. "Real fieldwork. Not sitting in a van monitoring communications or providing technical support from three miles away. I want to be there when things actually happen."
Gwen blinked. Of all the things she'd expected him to ask for—money, promotion recommendations, access to restricted databases—the chance to get chased and killed by supernatural creatures hadn't made the list.
"Danny, you realize fieldwork means people trying to kill you, right? With claws and fangs and magic that can melt your face off?"
"I know what it means," he said, his voice carrying the kind of stubborn determination that suggested someone who'd made up his mind and wasn't going to be talked out of it. "I've been stuck behind these computers for three years, watching everyone else go out and actually do something while I sit here managing databases and running background checks. I want to see what's out there."
"You could die."
"I could die crossing the street. At least this way I'd die doing something that matters."
Gwen studied his face, recognizing the expression of someone who'd spent too much time wondering what they were missing. She'd seen it in her own mirror often enough.
"Fine," she said. "Next mission that needs technical support, I'll make sure you're assigned to field operations instead of remote monitoring."
Danny grinned, the expression transforming his face from nervous data analyst to excited teenager who'd just been told he could drive the family car. "Deal." He stood up from his chair, gesturing toward the workstation. "Have at it. What are you looking for?"
Gwen settled into the chair, still warm from Danny's body heat, and pulled up the mission database interface. "March through June of last year. Specifically anything involving a hunter named Kaine Cross."
"Kaine Cross?" Danny's eyebrows went up. "I remember that name. He was involved in some seriously classified stuff. Like, above-my-clearance-level classified."
"Which is why I need to access it after hours."
"Right." Danny moved to the secondary workstation, fingers flying over the keyboard as he began pulling up security protocols and access logs. "I can get you into the restricted files, but you'll need to be careful about what you access. Some of this stuff has automatic tracking built in."
"How careful?"
"Let's just say if someone really wanted to trace what you looked at and when, they could do it. But unless they're specifically looking for unauthorized access, you should be fine."
Gwen nodded, already navigating through the database structure toward the operation archives.
"So what's this about?" Danny asked, watching her work. "Why the sudden interest in past operations?"
"It's not your business."
"Come on, I'm helping you commit what's technically a federal crime here. The least you could do is tell me why."
Gwen paused in her typing, considering how much to reveal. Danny was trustworthy—she wouldn't be here if she didn't believe that—but operational security was operational security.
"Let's just say I have some questions about how certain operations were conducted, and I want to verify some information before I make any official inquiries."
Danny was quiet for a moment, then moved toward the door. "You want me to watch for company while you work?"
"That would be helpful."
"This favor just doubled," he said, grinning. "I want field assignments for two missions now."
"Fine," Gwen agreed, already absorbed in the data scrolling across her screen. "Two missions. Just give me some privacy."
Danny stepped out into the hallway, leaving her alone with the classified files that might finally answer the questions that had been keeping her awake at night.
She found the operation she was looking for and navigated to the personnel files. There, she came across something that made her catch her breath.
"Just as I thought," she muttered, leaning back in the chair and rubbing her eyes.
Gwen quickly cleared her browser history and access logs, covering her tracks as thoroughly as possible. She stood up from the workstation, her mind already racing through the implications of what she'd discovered.
"Danny," she called toward the hallway. "I'm done."
He appeared in the doorway, looking surprised. "Already? That was fast."
"I found what I was looking for."
"Must have been something specific."
"It was." Gwen moved toward the door, suddenly eager to be away from the headquarters building and the classified files that felt like they were burning holes in her memory. "Remember—two field missions, and you never saw me here tonight."
"Deal. But Major?" Danny's voice stopped her at the door. "Whatever you found in there, be careful what you do with it. Some information is classified for good reasons."
"I know."
Gwen made her way through the headquarters building, moving with the confidence of someone who belonged there while every instinct screamed at her to run.
The security guard barely looked up as she badged out, but she felt exposed until she was outside and breathing the evening air.
Her phone buzzed as she stepped onto the sidewalk. Kaine Cross's name appeared on the display, and she felt her heart rate spike with a mixture of relief and anxiety.
She cleared her throat, composing herself before answering. "Hello?"
"Ms. Morgan? This is Kaine Cross. I'm sorry I missed your calls earlier—I was dealing with some urgent business that required my full attention."
His voice sounded tired, strained in a way that suggested whatever business he'd been dealing with hadn't gone well.
"That's fine," she said, surprised by how normal her voice sounded. "I understand that emergencies come up."
"I wanted to apologize for having to cut our conversation short this morning. And to reschedule, if you're still interested in my services."
"I am. My friend's situation hasn't improved, and I really do need professional help."
"Tomorrow morning? Same time, same place?"
"That works for me."
"Good. I'll see you then, Ms. Morgan."
The call ended, leaving Gwen standing on the sidewalk.
She slipped the phone into her pocket and started making her way through the street, searching for a taxi to take her home.
Suddenly, her ears caught something.
Behind her, something wet and organic made a sound like raw meat being dragged across concrete.
Gwen froze, every combat instinct she'd developed over a decade of supernatural warfare screaming in alarm.
She knew that sound.