Undercover Affairs {Dylmas AU}

d y l a n

I tapped my bitten, short fingernails on the interrogation desk, looking around cautiously. The officer that arrested me came in, sitting opposite me and placing a folder onto the desk.

"Mr O'Brien," The officer began. "I'm Thomas Sangster. I'll be asking you some questions. Now, Dylan, do you know why you're here?"

I nodded, raising my hand to wipe my forehead. He tidied the folder slightly and cleared his throat.

"What was your involvement in the production of Xanex? I'll need you to answer in as much detail as possible, please." Thomas stared at me. I took in a deep breath. "Take all the time you need." Sighing, I looked at the large window and immediately felt self conscious.

"I was forced into dealing Xanex. I um... I came out to my parents, and they kicked me out. Sold all my stuff to thrift stores because they said I didn't deserve it. I was taken in by this really sweet woman. She had a nice house with a husband and two kids. The next morning I woke up in a gross building and saw the same woman, but she wasn't sweet or kind, instead she was cruel. She told me if I were to pay them back for taking me off the streets, I would have to work two days." I answered as confidently as I could, though I knew I kept stammering.

"You state the woman tricked you. What about her husband and kids?" He asked, looking suspicious of my story.

"I don't know. I saw her husband in the kitchen. She told me she had a 7 year old girl who was staying at a friends house, but her 18 year old son was home. I think I saw him in the room we slept in before but... I never saw him at our briefings." I tapped my index finger on my chin, desperately trying to think if I'd seen him again. Shaking my head, I looked over to the officer.

"Briefings?" He questioned. I was about to answer when a man in a suit opened the door.

"Sir, I know you're busy but I need a word." He spoke in a soft yet harsh voice.

"Interview suspended at 3:52pm." The officer said as he paused the tape recorder. He left the room and came back after about 2 minutes. "Interview ended at 3:54pm. Mr Dylan O'Brien, we have some news."

"Wait!" I replied before he could continue. "My backpack? Did you see it?"

"I'm sorry, all evidence we collected against you has been stolen." The last word smashed my heart into millions of pieces. I shook my head. "Everyone we arrested was bailed besides you. But all evidence that we had against you, which was your backpack and photographs of your sleeping area, its gone. Now listen - We believe you are in danger of being taken into the narcotics business again, so we are transferring you to WITSEC. Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah. Witness Protection." I answered, still devastated from the fact I'd lost my only belongings in the entire world (beside the clothes I was wearing.)

"Until we can secure you with identity, location, travel and such, which will only be a few weeks, you'll be staying with me. I've dealt with many WITSEC cases and have kept many of those being transferred safe. If you would rather stay with another colleague of mine let me know now." I didn't reply. My throat was too sore and dry. "I'll take that silence as a no. This way then,"

I stood up, pushing my chair back. It scraped against the flooring making an awful noise. Following the soft spoken officer, he led me into a reception where I signed out, then into a car park. It was asked and silent - not that I wanted to speak anyway. The car halted and he pulled up.

"Here we are," He said as we stepped out. The large block of flats was modern and clean as Thomas buzzed his number. The door unlocked and we stepped in. 3 flights of stairs later and we arrived in an open plan apartment. "Well, show yourself around, I'll make some food. No allergies right?"

"No," I mumbled as I walked off towards the window. It was a huge window with a view of the city, and I liked that. The apartments were further out from the mainland of the city, so the view wasn't blocked by skyscrapers. I sat in front of it, cross legged, running my finger along the floor. It was nice to feel a clean, wooden floor, rather than a dirty concrete floor. A loud bang disrupted my thoughts and I turned to see Thomas pointing a gun towards the door, a lifeless body on the floor. My eyes were wide as Thomas reached to his stomach, attempting to limit the blood seeping from it.

"Call..." He groaned, "Call 911,"

short chapter again but cliffhangerrr, what do you guys think so far !?

in the words of my little baby dylan : i luh ya cuties