Through His Eyes

Prey

Quat entered the room, his movements fluid as he approached the suspect, ready to tug the mask off his head. But before he could slide it off, the suspect lunged forward with surprising speed, biting into Quat’s arm and holding on with a force that knocked Quat off balance. The room erupted into chaos as Quat stumbled back, his grip on the suspect faltering, causing the two to struggle on the cold concrete floor.

Thomas rushed forward, his instincts kicking in. He grabbed the suspect’s arm and yanked him off, but the man’s bite had a firm hold. Thomas didn’t waste any time. He reached for the bag over the suspect’s head and yanked it off in one swift motion, exposing the man’s face. The suspect’s jaw slipped free more easily, and the bite released as the man let out a frustrated grunt.

With a swift motion, Thomas grabbed the back of the suspect’s hair and shoved his head into the floor in front of them. The struggle ended abruptly, the air thick with tension.

Quat let out a burst of laughter and a sharp whistle, wiping his arm where the suspect had bitten him. “Well, that was fun,” he said, getting to his feet.

Thomas turned to him, concern flashing in his eyes. “You okay?”

Quat smirked, brushing off his arm. “Yeah, no worries. He’s got some teeth, but he couldn’t bite through all the layers. Gonna leave a bruise, though, I’m sure.”

With a nod, Thomas helped Quat steady himself before they both moved to put the suspect back in the chair. The man was scowling now, clearly frustrated, but his defiance was palpable.

Thomas can feel his lip twitching, thinking about the black duffel that was part of Simon’s breif he had mentioned was tucked away in the back room of the storage unit.

Thomas’s lip twitched as he glanced at the black duffel bag Simon had mentioned, tucked away in the back room of the storage unit. He steadied his breath and sat down, focusing on the task ahead.

On the table before him lay a file labeled “Edwardo,” detailing his real name, background, and the small town he hailed from. The file also contained information about his wife and family—their names, the schools they attended, their hobbies, and favorite dining spots. It was a comprehensive dossier, painting a vivid picture of Edwardo’s life.

Edwardo, aware of the depth of their knowledge and seething with anger, fixed his gaze solely on Thomas. His voice was low and threatening.

“They’ll tear them to pieces if you try to come for my family,” Edwardo warned, his eyes burning with menace.

Thomas remained silent, his expression unreadable. Quat, sensing the rising tension, decided to engage Edwardo, aiming to build rapport and perhaps find a crack in his resolve.

Quat leaned forward slightly, his tone conversational.

“You know,” Quat began, “I used to live in a small town much like yours. Quiet, peaceful. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.”

Edwardo’s eyes flickered, a brief sign of interest.

“Yeah?” Edwardo muttered, his voice still laced with suspicion.

Quat nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah. I remember the local diner—best pancakes in town. You ever been?”

Edwardo’s scowl deepened, but there was a hint of recognition.

“Maybe,” he replied curtly.

Quat chuckled softly. “I bet you have. Small towns like that, you can’t help but run into the same faces.”

He paused, allowing the silence to stretch, then added, “I get it. Protecting your family. It’s what any man would do.”

Edwardo’s gaze softened ever so slightly, a flicker of humanity breaking through his hardened exterior. “You don’t know what it’s like,” Edwardo muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and defensiveness.

Quat leaned back, his demeanor relaxed.

“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But I do know that sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go. To trust that the people you care about can handle things on their own.”

Edwardo’s eyes narrowed, skepticism returning. “And you think I can just walk away from all this?”

Quat met his gaze steadily. “I’m not saying it’s easy,” he replied. “But think about it. What happens if you keep going down this path? More people get hurt. More lives destroyed.”

Edwardo clenched his jaw, the internal struggle evident. “I didn’t start this,” he muttered.

Quat nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the situation. “I know,” he said softly. “But you can choose how it ends.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as Edwardo grappled with Quat’s words, the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

As Thomas stood up abruptly, leaving the interrogation room, Quat followed suit, excusing himself to Edwardo before shutting the door behind him. In the adjacent room, Thomas retrieved the black duffel bag Simon had mentioned earlier.

Quat placed a hand on Thomas’s forearm as he lifted the bag.

“Whoa, we really don’t need that, do we? I can jimmy the guy,” Quat suggested.

Thomas opened the duffel, revealing an array of tools—some modern, some ancient—designed for interrogation. He hid his unease behind a mask of professionalism.

“I can jimmy him faster,” Thomas replied, his voice steady.

Quat gently but firmly pushed Thomas back into the wall.

“Let’s give him some time first. I didn’t get a time hack in our briefing, so if you’d just let me—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door shutting.

“f**k,” Thomas muttered, before bursting through the door.

Thinking quickly, Thomas adopted the mindset of an escapee, anticipating Edwardo’s next move. He deduced that Edwardo would seek a populated area to blend in.

Following the sounds of activity, Thomas emerged into a bustling street market, people walking along the sidewalks. He noticed a woman exiting an ice cream shop, her expression one of concern.

Approaching her with practiced charm, Thomas inquired, “Excuse me, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The woman explained that a man had entered the shop frantically, causing a scene.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, offering a reassuring smile before quickly moving in the direction she indicated.

He continued to follow the trail of concerned expressions—a skill he was renowned for—until he reached a small clothing shop. Some mannequins were disarrayed, leaving a trail of fallen hangers that led to a changing room.

Taking a steadying breath, Thomas approached the door.

“You can come out calmly, or I can make you look incredibly stupid. Your choice,” Thomas called out.

There was no immediate response.

Thinking of Quat’s earlier words, Thomas added, “Look, help us figure out this case, and I’ll spend my days slaving until your family is in a safer position. Deal?”

After a brief pause, the door slowly opened.

Edwardo stepped out and followed Thomas back to the safehouse.

As they walked, Edwardo remarked, “That was quick. How’d you find me so fast?”

Thomas replied, “It’s my specialty.”

Edwardo smirked. “Well, it’s my specialty to escape.”

As the evening progressed, the interrogation took a more revealing turn. Edwardo disclosed that he had been stationed by the Zetas to meet with a man who had immigrated to the U.S. with his son, in exchange for his son’s allegiance to the gang. His son had been a promising protégé, quickly rising through the ranks, until he disagreed with a directive and attempted to “exit.” The Zetas are adept at detecting such intentions, noticing changes in attitude, habits, workflow, and even language. They eliminate dissenters swiftly. Edwardo confessed that he did not want to kill the man, identified as Nino, but felt compelled to do so to protect himself and his family.

Quat expressed sympathy for Edwardo’s predicament, while Thomas remained silent, satisfied with the information obtained. “You still have to answer for your actions, but I am a man of my word. I will work on it,” Thomas said before leaving. Checking his phone, he noted it was almost 9 p.m., realizing it would be late before he returned.

As Thomas entered his apartment, he was greeted by Mini, who eagerly awaited her meal. After feeding her, he washed his hands and noticed a text from.

Eden: “Are you busy tonight?”

Realizing she must have sent it just before he left, he immediately called her.

Eden answered on the second ring, her voice sounding groggy.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Thomas asked, his tone filled with concern.

“No, I wasn’t sleeping,” she said with a sniffle.

Thomas immediately knew what crying sounded like, and his heart dropped to his stomach. His voice softened, full of concern as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, not worth talking about,” she said, her voice trembling and breaking as she seemed to tear up more.

Thomas’s heart ached. “Look, if this is about me not responding all day, I’m so sorry. I left my personal phone at home, and all I had was my work phone. I didn’t mean to—”

Eden cut him off quickly, her voice now a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “No, dummy, it’s not that at all.”

“Then what is it?” Thomas paused, his mind racing with a mix of concern and a growing desire to be there for her. He could hear the hesitance in her voice, but he also knew she needed someone right now.

“Do you want me to just come over instead?” he asked, his voice softer than before.

Eden let out a long breath on the other end of the line, clearly contemplating the offer. The silence stretched on for a moment, but Thomas didn’t press her. He waited, giving her space.

After what felt like an eternity, Eden finally replied, her voice quieter than usual, but with a trace of something almost relieved. “Sure.”

The word hung in the air, and Thomas felt a weight lift slightly. He didn’t know what was going on with her, but he knew that showing up might help, even if it was just to sit in silence.

“Alright, I’ll be there in 15,” he said, already grabbing his jacket.

“Okay,” Eden replied, the faintest smile audible in her voice. “See you.”

It didn’t take long for Thomas to arrive at Eden’s apartment complex. The night air was cool, and everything seemed unusually calm, almost peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that made him feel a little lighter, but his mind was still preoccupied.

He packed a bag with a few essentials—just in case—but he didn’t expect the night to turn into anything more than a chance to study Eden, to understand her a little more deeply, even if it meant just sitting in silence with her. He wasn’t sure why he felt so compelled to be there, but it had something to do with how she had opened up to him earlier.

Grabbing the bag from the passenger seat, he stepped out of the car, the gravel under his boots crunching softly.

That’s when it happened.

A sudden movement behind him made him stagger back, his heart jumping into his throat. “What the—” he almost yowled, spinning around.

Eden stood there, her hands still raised in mock surrender, trying to stifle her laughter.