ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒆 ❜

chapter no. 009!

❝ THERE'S NO EVIDENCE. ❞
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

THE PINK DOLPHIN / 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗚𝗢. . .

     THE EMERALD GREEN TO OCEANIC BLUE BERYL NECKLACE TWINKLED IN THE MOONLIGHT THAT STREAMED THROUGH THE BATHROOM WINDOWS. The crisp edges of the soft, ductile silver metal were prominent against her pale skin. If one were to see the veins on her arms, one would mistake them for the dull roots of flowers.

     Blue eyes were often portrayed as the perfect eye color in the media. Many people wanted blue eyes, but not her. She hated her blue eyes. They were an icy blue that caused people to fear her. They were the type of icy blue that drained all colors from one's cheeks and left one's fingertips cold to the solid touch.

     Right now, her icy blue eyes contradicted the emerald green necklace laid perfectly on her neck.

     She struggled to tear her gaze away from her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The bass of 'She's My Winona' by Fall Out Boy barrelled through her thoughts, disrupting the ongoing patterns. Laughs and shouts, not to mention the stomps of underage teenagers and adults pretending to be teenagers, could be heard.

     Tonight, she wasn't Cara Valentine. Instead, she was Zari Wilkinson, a famous British journalist whose side job was organizing arrangements for different trafficking services— specifically drug trafficking.

     Zari was closing a deal tonight with a corporate business from New Jersey that was regarded as a Godsend and squeaky clean. They helped those in need and were big on giving back to the community. So far, this arrangement has been the biggest one of her career. If she successfully closed the deal, her rank in the Red Scorpions would further rise, and the new leaders would allow her to visit her father.

     That was the agreement, at least.

     After smoothing out the tight-fitting black dress, Cara let out a heavy breath. The sound of her black opal heels clicking against the floor could scarcely be heard over the blaring music as she made her way to the bar. Once she reached it, she sat down and placed the black Louis Vuitton purse on the counter.

     "May I?" A deep voice asked.

     Cara snapped her fingers, pointing to the chair to her right. "Single malt." She nodded at the undercover bartender, and he turned around, filling up a glass. Her British accent was perfect. She'd been using it for months now.

     "I'll take one, too." The bartender grabbed another glass. "Single malt? Interesting choice."

     Rolling her eyes loosely, she smirked. "I only drink whiskey," she clicked her tongue and looked over at the suited man— Dillion Richards. His briefcase was lying on the table, and he looked her up and down.

     "You look gorgeous."

     "I know."

     The bartender brought over the ordered drinks, and Cara downed hers. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Dillion continued to wrack his eyes up and down her figure.

     "So, what do you have to offer?" he asked, and she turned her head to the right.

     "I have many things to offer," she mused, crawling her fingers over to his drink and picking the glass up swiftly. She brought it to her lips and took a slow slip, keeping her eyes locked with his. "You're going to have to be more specific." She placed the glass back on the counter and slid it to him.

     Licking his lips, Dillion flicked his eyebrows up before picking up his drink. "How soon could you get a shipment of opioids and cannabinoids delivered to Wildwood, New Jersey?" he asked, downing the rest of the drink.

     "A day."

     Dillion's eyes widened, and he turned his body to face her fully. "A day? That's impossible."

     Chuckling, Cara shook her head and leaned forward. "Nothing is impossible. You should know that better than anyone, right, Mr. Richards?" she asked, wrapping her fingers around Dillion's tie and pulling him close. His cheeks flushed, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

     "How much?"

     "Five million."

     "Deal."

────

PRESENT DAY / CARA'S POV. . .

     MY EYELIDS DROOPED FOR WHAT FELT LIKE HALF A SECOND BEFORE THEY SNAPPED RIGHT BACK OPEN, THE FAMILIAR GREY WALL STARING BACK AT ME BLANKLY. The lack of sleep was progressively getting to me, for I kept fazing in and out of consciousness. Spencer had left the room long ago to talk to the rest of the team. I didn't know what they'd discovered, but it must have been significant because I'd been alone for an hour, forty-four minutes, and nine seconds. I had no idea what time it was. All I knew was that it was for sure past midnight.

     Lazily kicking off my stilettos and tossing them across the small storage room, I leaned further back into the right corner of the room. Curling my legs up to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them softly before leaning my head against the wall. My eyes slowly shut, and I allowed the darkness to consume me whole. It made me feel as if I was dead. Reality could no longer reach me from the depths of the abyss I was in. The pattern of my breathing was all I focused on; everything that happened today and the days before it was out of my mind. A sense of innocent peace shaded over me like a cloud in the sky, and every muscle relaxed. The feeling of paranoia was gone.

     "Valentine?"

     Spoke too soon.

     "Hotch... maybe we should let her sleep." As soon as the voice had finished speaking, a soft hand landed on my shoulder. My body jolted awake at the simple touch, and my eyes shot open only to meet the familiar blondes'.

     Grimacing at the slightly startled expression that briefly graced my features, Agent Jareau gave me a forced smile. "I didn't mean to startle you," she apologized, her eyes washing over my appearance. Nodding in response, I turned my head and tucked a strand of platinum-blonde hair behind my ear.

     "We found Marcus Taylor and Flint Bradley's bodies at the Pink Dolphin," Morgan announced, causing my head to snap upward. "The entire place was emptied out. Every nook and cranny— scrubbed. There's no evidence of anyone ever being there." Not surprising. Taylor and Bradley were simply collateral damage. Pawns in the middle of an intense chess match.

     "There wasn't anything at the mansion either. It was empty and clean, just like the club." Rossi added, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.

     "All the places you gave us turned up empty," Hotch said, and I sighed, turning my gaze to where he, Blake, Rossi, and Spencer stood by the door.

     Raising a brow, I glanced between the four of them. "Even the storage unit?" I clarified, and the man nodded.

     "I want to take you to the Pink Dolphin," Hotch said, tilting his head the tiniest bit as he stared down at me. "You know what to specifically look for. We don't," he added after he'd noticed how still I'd become.

     My eyes were trained on the grey wall in front of me, and I held my breath for a solid ten seconds before letting it go. "As soon as I exit this building, I'm a dead girl walking. Don't you remember?" I asked. There was an edge in my tone, and it was noticeable.

     "You'll be in disguise, and we'll keep you safe. No one is going to lay a hand on you," Blake said reassuringly, but she didn't sound convinced. "We have clothes for you, and there's a bathroom down the hall that you can use to change in," she added. I blinked solemnly, running a hand through my hair.

     "All right." Pushing off the floor, I felt myself becoming lightheaded, and a wave of dizziness hit me as I followed Agent Jareau. Fight it off. I couldn't let them know something was up; that I wasn't okay. Focusing my attention on the floor, I nearly smiled at the coldness of the tiles against my bare feet as we made our way out of the room and down the hall.

     There was an awkward but tense silence between the two of us, and I could tell by the way she laid her hands in her pockets that she felt uneasy. Her left hand was clenched while her right was tapping against her leg repeatedly. "Stay there," she instructed, eyeing me as she walked over to a police officer's desk, grabbing a plastic bag. Gesturing for me to follow her, she led us to a bathroom that was located right across from what I was assuming to be a conference room.

     "Clothes, along with a pair of shoes, are in the bag." Jareau clarified, handing me the bag after she'd taken off the cuffs. I nodded and turned my back to her, locking myself in a stall. Opening the bag, I saw a pair of black leggings, a very worn out and faded light-blue Prince tour t-shirt, new underwear, a black beanie, white socks, and a pair of Converses. Disguise my ass. They were obviously going for an outfit that was the exact opposite of what I'd been wearing: ripped black skinny jeans, a silk white long-sleeve blouse, and a leather jacket with black stilettos.

     After changing, I used the bathroom for the first time in hours and shoved my other clothes in the plastic bag. Unlocking the stall, I could feel Agent Jareau's eyes locked on my figure as I began washing my hands. "Have you been completely honest with us?" she asked as I dried my hands off with a towel.

     Tossing the paper towel into the trash can right below the dispenser, I nodded. "Yes. I have nothing to lose; therefore, lying would be useless. There would be no purpose behind the lie." I said, adjusting the beanie as I held eye contact with her through the mirror. "I am aware that none of you trust me, aside from Spencer; I haven't given any of you a real reason to place any sort of trust in me. And there is no part of me that expects any of you to. Trust is a fickle thing, and I know all too well how it works. It's earned, not given."

     At the sound of the brown-haired man's name, Jareau raised her brows. "Spencer?" she asked suspiciously.

     "He told me to call him that." I shrugged, turning to face her as she frowned, the gears turning in her brain.

     "How did you earn his trust?"

     "I don't know." I immediately responded back, and I barely winced as a piercing pain struck my side.

     The door to the women's restroom opened, and Blake walked in with her brows raised. "Ready to go?" she asked, and Jareau reluctantly nodded as she pried her eyes away from me. The moment both agents' gazes were moved, I clenched my teeth together and rubbed my temple in an attempt to ease the pain that'd spread up to my head.

     Noticing that the two women had begun walking out of the bathroom, I dropped my arm and ignored the spreading pain as I hurried to catch up to them. It was time to suck it up, ignore the pain, and be the ruthless, emotionless, and merciless Cara Valentine that everyone knew me to be. Playing this version of myself was more than second nature, and I was more than good at being her. I was fantastic at it. Cara Valentine was the woman that no one reckoned with and didn't dare piss off. I was trained and groomed for over a decade; I was taught by the best, and therefore, I was the best.

     I followed behind the two agents into a large room and my eyes swept around before landing on two glass boards towards the back. There was an array of photographs, receipts, and documents plastered to them, as well as a series of lines connecting particular pieces. Coming to a stop right in front of the cherrywood conference table, my gaze landed on a security footage screenshot that had me in it. It was taken a couple of nights ago, across the street from the abandoned apartment complex I'd been arrested at.

     "Valentine," the Unit Chief spoke sternly, and my eyes snapped to his stone-cold face. "When we leave this building, you are to obey every command I give you. You are not to escape or try to harm anyone. If you do, we will have to use lethal force to apprehend you. Am I clear?"

     "Crystal," I responded blandly.

     "Reid and Morgan, I want the two of you to escort Valentine out of the building; make sure you're right behind me. Blake, JJ, Rossi, stay behind them and keep an eye out. We can't have anything go wrong." Hotch instructed, and everyone nodded in agreement. Sighing silently, I couldn't help but feel a sinking, gut-wrenching tightening in my chest. Something wasn't right. My eyes shot back to the boards in mindless thought, not noticing the fact that the BAU team had started to walk away. Something about all of this isn't right. I didn't know what it was, but I could feel it.

     "Cara," Blake called out, and I hesitantly held my gaze on the boards for a moment before I tore my eyes away. Turning on my heel, I walked to catch up with the team. All of whom were watching me.

     As I took my spot between Morgan and Spencer, we made our way toward the front doors. "Everything's going to be okay," Spencer whispered in a voice so quiet that I was the only one who appeared to hear him.

     "I wish I could believe that," I replied just as quietly, and he frowned.

     Once we passed through the doors, my face blanched, and I rolled back my shoulders. Showtime. Approaching a long, black Suburban, Hotch gestured for me to enter first, and I climbed in, plopping down in the seat closest to the left window. Buckling my seatbelt, the feeling of eyes watching me returned and I peered out one of the tinted windows as everyone else was settling in. Across the street, there stood a person whose appearance sent chills down my spine; they were dressed head-to-toe in black clothing with a simple red bandana wrapped around their neck. The hair on my arms rose, and I pushed down the rising fear in my throat as they raised a single finger in the air. The first circle. It was a warning, a threat.

     At that moment, all I wanted to do was scream at the FBI agents in the car, scream for them to turn the car around and lock me back in that eight by ten room, scream to them that something wasn't right, scream to them that they were still here. They were still here. But I couldn't. I was paralyzed with fear and apprehension.

     Blinking, I held myself back from biting my lip as I noticed that the person was gone.

     "We're here," Morgan announced, snapping me out of the bubble I had taken cover in during the car ride. I hadn't even realized that we'd gotten out of the parking lot of the precinct, let alone come to a stop right outside of the familiar club. Moving my head, I briefly met the dark-skinned man's expectant gaze before realizing that I was the only one left in the car.

     I didn't want to leave; to unbuckle and go back inside the building I'd spent numerous amount of years living in. Every part of me wanted to flee. To escape. But I couldn't.

     "Cara," a gentle voice prodded, capturing my attention instantly. Blinking, I looked up to see Spencer staring at me in concern, his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. "Are you okay?" he asked, scanning my body language for an answer but conclusively finding nothing.

     No, I'm not okay. I want to go home, but I'm not even sure I know what exactly a home looks like. I just want to leave. Nodding, I jumped out of the car and glanced up at the neon pink sign that was hung above the entrance to the Pink Dolphin. "This is your territory. Lead the way." Hotch said, clearing his throat. I looked over at him, raising a brow curiously and he simply gave me a nod of the head. Sighing, I bounded forward toward the front door before making a sharp left and turning down the dark alley that decorated the side of the building.

     Footsteps were following quickly behind me as I walked through the pitch-black night. Coming to a sudden stop, I merely glanced to my right at the oversized trash bin before forcefully kicking it away from the brick wall. I crouched down and looked over the repetitive brick pattern that was barely visible in the midnight hours.

     "What're you doing?" Morgan asked as he watched from behind, and I clenched my right hand into a fist. Keeping my gaze steady and focused on the three specific bricks, I let out a slow breath as I quickly punched a black brick positioned on my left, a red one on my right, and a brown one right in between the two.

     "What the hell—" Rossi's voice was cut off as a whirring noise began purring. Then, a three-by-five-foot space of the brick wall slid backward and dropped down, revealing a black hole.

     Turning my head, I looked back at the team. "Don't ask questions. I need to go down and deactivate the alarms. If they go off due to one of you acting up, then they will know I'm here. Hotch," I paused, making direct eye contact with the man, "you said this was my territory, and you were right. I just need a minute to secure the room. I'll call up when it's safe to come down." Before any of them had the chance to object, I stuck my legs down the hole and disappeared from sight.

     "Valentine!"