“Thank you. I’m fine, but I’m anxious to get back to work,” I reply.

“You need to learn to relax, Blake. Enjoy a couple of well-earned days off.”

I raise my injured arm. “Not the most ideal way to earn a couple days off.”

She laughs. “Fair enough.”

After spending two days in the hospital, they finally released me—probably because they couldn’t deal with my complaining anymore. Surprisingly, DD Church herself was there to pick me up. We made a quick stop at the war room so I could pick up a few things and grab a shower, and after that, she whisked me away to a fancy little cafe for lunch. I’m anxious to get back to Seattle and get through the PT so I can start working again, but Church insisted I carve out some time to have lunch with her, saying she needed to talk to me about something.

I don’t know what it is, but the tone of her voice when she said it set a few alarm bells ringing in my head. But we’ve gotten through lunch and now coffee and dessert, and she still hasn’t raised the topic of whatever we needed to talk about. Frankly, the longer we go on without discussing it, the more concerned I become.

“Where is your team?” Church asks.

“I sent them home when I was admitted to the hospital,” I say. “I told them to take a few days off to relax and unwind.”

“You should take your own advice.”

“That’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” I say.

“I’m sure it’s not.”

Church takes a sip of her latte and looks away. I’ve noticed that she’s been avoiding my eyes for large parts of the day, which is only putting me on edge even more.

“Senator Barlow is grateful to you and your team,” Church says. “All the parents of those kids are. You guys did fantastic work.”

“Thank you, Deputy Director.”

It doesn’t escape my notice that she hasn’t brought up the circumstances that brought those parents and their children into Townsend’s orbit to begin with. But then, I shouldn’t be surprised. The people who move through those circles tend to cover for and protect each other. But to be fair, there isn’t anything Church can do about Sean Townsend’s death any more than I can. So, perhaps from their perspective, it doesn’t even bear talking about.

“You’re probably wondering what I wanted to talk to you about today,” she finally says.

“It’s crossed my mind.”

That’s a bit of an understatement since it’s literally the only thing that’s been on my mind since we sat down for lunch. But I’m not going to say that to her. Church looks down into her drink, the corners of her mouth curling down as her expression tightens. I know right then that whatever she has to tell me isn’t going to be good, and it makes my heart flutter as a sick, greasy feeling churns in my belly.

“What is it, Deputy Director?”

She finally raises her gaze to me, and although she doesn’t say a word, the look in her eye makes me feel physically ill.

“Is it OPR? Am I still under investigation?” I ask.

She sighs and clears her throat again, her discomfort growing. “No. We were able to get the OPR situation quashed, just like we promised we would. It didn’t make some people happy, but the review was closed for good.”

“Okay,” I say. “That’s good news. So, why do you look like somebody just shot your dog?”

“Blake, I don’t know how to say this—”

“Just say it,” I say as a cold, ominous feeling wraps itself around me.

“We were able to get the OPR issue quashed, but we were outmaneuvered, Blake.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to understand. She’s speaking in English, and though I understand the words she’s saying, they don’t make the slightest bit of sense. She might as well be speaking Mandarin to me.

“Outmaneuvered? What does that mean, Deputy Director?”

“It means that the way things went down in Atlanta angered some very powerful people.”

“I understand that, but you said we were all right—”

“Because I thought we were.”

My stomach falls into my shoes, and my head is swimming as I try to understand what’s happening here.

“Thought?” I ask. “What’s going on, Deputy Director? I thought you and Senator Barlow were able to smooth things over.”

“I thought we were, too, Chief.”

“You thought we were?”

“We were blindsided,” she finally says. “Senator Katherine Hedlund came at us sideways, and she blindsided us.”

At the mention of that woman’s name, I grit my teeth, trying to beat back the waves of nausea coursing through me. My hand trembles as I pick up the glass of water and take a long swallow, trying to wash away the acidic taste of bile in the back of my throat.

“You know how powerful Senator Hedlund is, Blake. And you know how well connected she is—she’s got friends in very high places. Even within the Bureau.”

“What are you trying to say, Deputy Director?”

She lets out a long breath and lowers her gaze, unable to meet my eyes. A pit opens up in my stomach that swallows my heart and leaves a cold, terrified void in its place.

“Deputy Director, what are you saying?” I press.

Church swallows hard. “What I’m trying to say is that Hedlund is using the death of Camden Snyder in Atlanta, and now Davis Townsend, for her agenda. She’s successfully managed get the Black Cell teams disbanded. She’s killed the program, Chief.”

“They’re blaming me for Snyder and Townsend’s deaths? I didn’t kill Snyder, and I was fighting for my life on that rooftop.”

“She’s a skilled politician and has a lot of powerful friends, Blake. More than I have.”

I sit back in my chair and gape at her in silence for several long minutes, trying to comprehend what she just said and what it all means.

“Killed the program?” I ask because it’s all I can think to ask.

“Killed the program.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re out, Blake. I’m so sorry, but you’re out as the Black Cell team lead.”