Simon pushed the door open.
The conversation stopped immediately.
Director Harmon sat at the head of the long conference table, his gray suit as pristine as his carefully maintained silver hair. To his left sat Madeline Cross, Head of Intelligence, her tablet and color-coded files spread across the table like weapons. To his right, James Fitzgerald from Field Operations, whose scarred hands drummed against the table in a rhythm that suggested barely contained irritation.
And leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, stood Reuben Stone.
Simon's mentor hadn't changed much in the three years since he'd officially retired from fieldwork. Same weathered face, same calculating dark eyes, same way of standing that suggested he could still take down half the room despite being north of fifty. He gave Simon the slightest nod—not of greeting, but of acknowledgment.
You're in deep shit,that nod said.
"Sit," Harmon commanded, gesturing to the single chair positioned at the opposite end of the table. The hot seat. Simon had seen other hunters called to it but never occupied it himself.
But he'd always known he'd end up here sooner or later.
Harmon must be salivating at the chance to finally lay into him.
Simon sat, keeping his posture straight, his hands visible on the table.
"You want to explain what happened last night?" his superior demanded.
"I tracked the target to the laundromat as reported. He escaped."
"He escaped." Harmon repeated the words slowly, as if tasting something foul. "You're telling me that Charlie Dracul, who we have numerous reports of being one of the most dangerous vampires in the city, simply... escaped? From you?"
"Yes."
Fitzgerald leaned forward. "Did you call for backup?"
"No."
"Did you set a perimeter?"
"No."
"Did you follow any of the protocols we have in place for high-risk targets?"
Simon met his gaze steadily. "I assessed the situation and acted accordingly."
"You assessed." Madeline Cross pulled up something on her tablet. "Just like you 'assessed' the Rosebrier situation and went in alone? Or the warehouse raid where you ignored direct orders to wait for the strike team?"
"Both of those were successful eliminations."
"That's not the point!" Harmon's palm slammed the table. "You think you're better than everyone else. You think the rules don't apply to you because you've got the highest kill count. Well, guess what? Last night proves you're not infallible."
Simon kept his expression neutral, even as his jaw tightened.
How long had Harmon been waiting for his chance to say that?
"The intelligence was flawed," Simon explained.
Madeline's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"The reports about Charlie Dracul. They don't match what I observed."
"So now you're questioning our intelligence gathering?" Harmon pressed.
"I'm saying the target didn't display the characteristics described in the file. There are no police reports corroborating the supposed kills. No missing persons. No evidence."
