Matheson, I’ve already told you—Seattle is out of the question,” barked Director Simmons over the phone. His voice was sharp, and his irritation bled through every syllable.
“Sir, with all due respect, Thierry is our best shot! He knows William’s operations. Hell, he’s worked with Oliver before! We can’t just sit back and let this case slip through our fingers,” Matheson argued, pacing the room, his free hand clenched into a fist.
“This case is already eating up more resources than it’s worth!” Simmons snapped. “Flying you out to Seattle is unnecessary. We’ve done enough.”
“I’ll pay for it myself,” Matheson said, his voice steady, despite the storm brewing inside him.
“What?” Simmons asked.
There was a pause on the line, but Simmons’s next words were colder, firmer. “Matheson, this is
