Of course, why would he be here?
Focus, Oliver. We don’t like Matt right now!
Nick continues. “We’re werewolves. All of us. You know that now, right? You work for Laura's show, so you know.”
I find myself nodding.
“We all work for an international organization called the Werewolf Regulation Bureau. Its main purpose is to keep our secret and ensure crimes committed by and against werewolvesare met with justice.”
“That’s pretty cool.” Hey, I can still appreciate the James Bond-ness of it all.
There’s a knowing tilt to Nick’s smile. “Isn’t it? It's very difficult to prove the crimes committed by werewolves in a human court because they don’t really need additional weapons, so the evidence is far more limited. Except this one time, this dumbass used—”
Nick stops at my confused face. It sounds like a cool story, but the adrenaline is wearing off, and I’mreallyfreaking the fuck out now. So, everyone here is a secret agent? Are they going to kill me now because I know too much? Fuck, is that why Matt was trying to stop my investigation? Why am I so dumb? I could have just gone without sleep for a few months.
“Right, so, the Bureau assigns agents to every emergency service to make sure we do all of that.”
I nod aggressively. “That's good. A good organization. Smart even!”Ass-kissing won’t save you, Oliver.
Okay, why’s the sassy voice still here?
I’m you, dumbass!
Yeah, I need some sleep.
“Yeah…” Nick tilts his head, confused by my sudden enthusiasm. “We also make sure there are no accidental sightings, like with that asshole there.” Nick points to Dalton, who’s unconscious now. “Matt was assigned to deal with you.”
My eyes go wide. “You mean…like…” I enact slashing my throat, complete with the appropriate sound effect. Apparently, I’m hoping the dude will grant me mercy for my sick charades skills.
Nick’s eyes also snap open wide, and he aggressively shakes his head. “No, Oliver, oh my god! No one's going to hurt you! Imean, Matt would literally kill me if I let anything happen to you, but that’s not what WRB does,” he quickly assures.
“Right.”
“Matt was assigned to just deter you and keep an eye on you,” he clarifies. “We are perpetually short-staffed, so it’s not easy to have someone trailing every person who starts digging around.”
Now that I know I’m safe again, my mind goes into another tangent. One that has me looking like a desperately horny person at best and a sexual harasser at worst.
“Matt spent all this time with me, so I would stop questioning what I saw,” I whisper to myself. Dread takes over so quickly. I want everyone to leave, so I can wrap myself in a blanket and bury myself on the couch.
“No,” Nick shakes his head. “He just…It wasn’t just—”
“Tell me more about your work. You had a speech prepared, right?” I interrupt. He shouldn’t have to deal with my patheticness.
What could he say, anyway? It makes complete sense. Of course, Matt didn't want me. And every time we did anything more than “Matt’s work,” it was me throwing myself at him.
He just took pity on me, didn't he? I was just a job that became too clingy.
Nick continues to speak, explaining how they have specialized holding cells for werewolves. He tells me about their work, concealing evidence, hunting down guilty werewolves, tracking humans who use the awareness of their existence for profit, or worse, to hurt them.
I understand it all. Why they need to do this. How important it is to maintain their secret. Humans are afraid of everything they can't control, and we’re not known to make thebest decisions when afraid. This is the only way they can survive.
Their dedication to their work makes sense, even when it isn’t all kosher.
Matt was dedicated, too, in making sure I didn't go around blabbering with my big mouth. He definitely found one way to shut it.
Suddenly, I remember something.
“Dalton was talking about bodies. What was that about?” I ask, since he’s clearly not the drugged-up human I had assumed.
