Wild Nights, Wild Nights || Spencer Reid x Reader

32. The Rose Did Caper on Her Cheek

You supposed you should ask about the state of the rest of them. Victor and Leo were surely dead (the reality of which would surely hit you in the coming days), but Alexander did still help you. And even though the thought of his handprints on your throat made you want to vomit, you wanted to see if he still wanted to make a deal with the bureau. He could still be a source of valuable information, because Boucher and the Marseilles were merely the front faces for a much larger operation.

And, despite everything, a small part of you still cared about him. It wasn't his fault that he'd been born into that family, that he'd been groomed into a life of organized crime. You still wanted to give him an opportunity to get out.

"Hey," you said, "do you know if they're taking Alexander down to DC, too? What's going on with him?"

Preston stared at you for a few beats. "Y/N, Alexander isn't in custody."

Your body went cold. "What?" you whispered.

"Agents searched the house. They only found Victor and Leonardo in the study." Preston furrowed his brows. "Why did you want to know?"

And so, with your heart rate quickly jacking up, you explained the situation to Preston—the deal you'd cut with Alexander, how you'd killed Victor unprovoked and had broken part of your end of the deal, how Spencer had supposedly knocked Alexander unconscious after killing Leo in self-defense.

All the while, Preston's eyes widened. And when you were finished, he buried his face in his hands. "Oh, fuck. That's bad. That's really fucking bad, Y/N."

"Alexander is a fully grown man. He couldn't have just... disappeared," you breathed. "He couldn't have gotten far. They'll find him."

How he even evaded capture in general was astounding to you.

"No, sweetheart, it's not that. I don't think you understand," Preston answered, dragging his hands down his face. "Victor was Boucher's second-in-command. With Boucher in custody and Victor and Leo dead, who do you think gets control of the mob?" He looked back up at you. "Y/N, you just fucked over their next leader."

Oh.

Fuck.

Your mouth went dry. "Okay, but he's... Alex wanted out. He's not going to—"

"No, you're biased," he cut you off. "Okay—shit. Stay here. Do not tell anyone else what you just told me. I'm going to find Agent Jareau, and we'll figure out what to do next." Preston started heading back towards the door.

"Wait," you blurted out.

He paused with his hand over the door handle, looking back at you from over his shoulder.

Heat rose to your cheeks. "Is... do you know if Spencer's okay? Can I see him?"

You needed to talk to him—about what you'd just learned, and about everything else. And you didn't feel like sitting in a cold hospital room by yourself for another hour, especially after hearing that.

Preston's face softened. "Yeah, he's fine. His wrist was jacked up pretty bad. They had to do minor surgery, but last I checked, they were finishing up. He might be awake now. I'll get the doctor to clear you." And then he left.

A few minutes later, a doctor came by and removed the IV drip from your arm. She told you that your blood work results should come back soon, just so you could be certain that you hadn't been injected with anything else while being held, and then she led you from the room. The two agents who'd been outside your door followed the two of you down the hall and into a post-op recovery area.