The Spirit Guardians Book 3: Fated

Chapter 41

The ding of the elevator made Irene jump. She walked slowly down the hall to his office, the door looming in the distance. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, and her legs felt like jelly, but Irene took a deep breath. She could do this.

She opened the door to Lynch's office, finding him sitting at his desk, sipping on a cup of either tea or coffee. Either way, something was steaming from his mug. It had a familiar odor to it, but she couldn't place what it was.

"Irene, what took you so long? It should only be a twenty minute walk from your apartment," Lynch said.

"I was running late today. Didn't even have time to eat breakfast when my secretary called," Irene answered, standing near the door. She snuck a glance behind her at the window, but it seemed security was nowhere in sight. What was this meeting about?

"Won't you take a seat?" he asked, pointing to the chair across from him.

"Why did you call me here?" Irene wondered. "I was just about to head to work. I thought you wanted me to be productive."

"I haven't checked up on you in a while. Can't two old friends talk?" he asked innocently as Irene took a seat. "Coffee? Tea?"

"I'm all right," she muttered.

"Hm, you never were one for hospitality. I wanted to continue congratulating you on your improvement. I really am most impressed. You've been working overtime, dedicating yourself to your career. It's a step up from Miguel's work anyway," Lynch grumbled.

"He's not doing so well?" she asked.

"His productivity rate has been slacking, but yours has most definitively improved. We ended our meeting last time a little coldly, so I wanted to invite you here this time for some pleasant chatter, to marvel in our success," Lynch said.

Irene blinked. Was he just playing dumb? Or did he really know next to nothing about the undercover spy work she had been partaking in behind his back for months?

"Thank you," she murmured. "But that's all? You're not here to ask for information, to tell me to improve?"

"There's always room for improvement, but I doubt there's any more information you can offer me. This is just a bit of a friendly gathering," he said, leaning forward and exhaling almost directly on her face.

Irene's face scrunched up. "Sir, have you been drinking?" she asked, his breath reeking of alcohol. She glanced at his cup, but it certainly looked full of coffee.

"Ah, just put a little bit in my coffee. It's a habit sometimes," Lynch said.

Irene smirked a little. Perfect. A full-scale attack on one of the Preservers' military bases is scheduled at any moment, and he's drunk. This is almost too easy.

"Then there's nothing else you had to say to me besides the fact you're happy I'm improving?" Irene asked.

"Yes, precisely. Just a friendly conversation," he said, standing up from his chair.

"What are you doing?" Irene asked, spinning around to face him.

"Sitting behind that desk gets so boring at times. It's almost too threatening. This is a friendly talk, isn't it? I'd rather speak face to face without that desk in front of us."

Irene stiffened a bit in her seat. She had never felt comfortable in the presence of Lynch, but this was a new kind of discomfort that made her squirm. He wasn't being overbearingly authoritative. He was taking on an entirely different personality that twisted her stomach.

"Sir?" she asked.

"I've always taken a particular interest in you," Lynch said, pacing around the space in front of her. "Your affairs are quite thrilling. I apologize again about you and Miguel breaking things off. It must've been difficult."

"It's...okay," Irene said, gulping.

"But now that Miguel is gone, we can get to know each other a little better, don't you think?"

Irene began scooting away from Lynch slightly. "Sir, what do you mean?"

Lynch drew closer to her in an instant, a devious look on his face. He hummed, then stepped behind her. Irene dug her fingers into the chair's fabric, her heart racing harder than ever. She jumped as Lynch snaked his hands around her neck and down her arms.

"S-Sir?"

"You know, Irene, I've always found you quite...attractive," he whispered into her ear. She shuddered, watching his hand move until it cupped around her right breast and gently squeezed.

That was enough to set her off. Without even thinking of the consequences, Irene smacked his hand away and stood up, kicking the man in the groin before he had time to react. He howled and sunk to the ground as Irene threw her foot into his side, knocking him fully onto his back.

"Don't you fucking dare touch me," she hissed, keeping one foot on his shoulder and the other on his left hand.

Lynch growled, trying to break free from her grip, but she dug her foot harder into his hand and twisted it, causing him to let out another groan of pain.

"You're disgusting, absolutely disgusting," Irene sneered. "You're just like him. Don't you have a wife?"

"Sh-she's aged," Lynch stammered.

"If you ever lay a hand on me again, so help me God, I'll kill you right here," Irene warned, her eyes flaming with rage. "Did you think you could get away with something like that because you're all 'high and mighty?' You're a manipulative and disgusting bastard. To think that you called me in here for something like that." She stomped down on his hand again, causing him to let out a cry of pain.

"I doubt I'm the only ever woman you've done that to, too. Maybe they've submitted to you because they're scared, but I'll kick your ass even harder if you try pulling a move like that again. I don't mess around. God, I'm tired of men. I'm so sick of men," Irene complained, slowly removing her feet from Lynch's body.

He slowly sat up, rubbing his neck.

"Fuck you," she hissed before rushing out of his office.

Irene rushed out of the building, expecting security to come after her at any moment. Her cheeks were flushed, and her heart was beating rapidly, but there was something thrilling about finally being able to put Lynch in his place. She sprinted out of the building, back to her apartment.

There was no use sticking around anymore. Lynch would find out soon she was sending messages or would throw her in prison for attacking him. Irene quickly grabbed her duffel bag and began to pack, throwing whatever clothes and items she could find. She had to get out of here quickly, this afternoon, most likely. Where she would go, she wasn't sure, but she knew it was no longer safe to remain here.

A knock came at her door. Irene paused, throwing her bag under her bed and burying it under some blankets. She walked to the door, not surprised to see Lynch standing outside. His hair was not slick back and composed as it normally was, and he was rubbing the hand she had repeatedly stomped.

"Did you think you can just—"

Irene grasped his wrist. "Get out. Get out of my goddamn house, or I swear to God—"

Before either of them had any time to react, a voice signaled out of Lynch's walkie-talkie.

"Getting reports of a possible attack on Military Base 1. Security was down a half hour ago, looks like armies are coming in. Lynch? What's the call, Lynch?"

Irene slowly let go of Lynch's hands, watching him pick up the radio.

"I'm heading back to my office now." He turned, narrowing his eyes at Irene, as if to say that this matter wasn't finished yet, before he spun around and ran away.

Irene took a step back and slammed the door, locking herself inside her apartment. She slowly sunk against the door and placed her face into her hands, letting out an anguished scream.