𝑅𝐸𝑄𝑈𝐼𝐸𝑀 - M.R.

[RESTRAINT]

Mitch gets back to his motel room worn out, both physically and emotionally and it takes all the willpower left inside him not to slump straight into bed. He dresses the cuts up his arm from the Beta's claws and the cuts on his palms from his own after a too-cold shower. Bandaging his hands is entirely unnecessary but the cuts reopen every time he straightens his fingers and slippery hands just make holding a gun steady that little bit harder than it needs to be. He doesn't need his job to get any harder, and he's off his game already, so he'd rather take precautions. When he's sure nothing will get infected he takes his rest.

Mitch does manage to get a couple of hours of sleep, which is a small victory but a victory nonetheless. It happens to be one of those rare nights when his mind isn't riddled with monsters and blood and gore, one where his mind is perfectly empty. He wakes up to the sound of his alarm rather than the sound of his own screaming. It's going to be a good day–maybe, hopefully, but Mitch rarely lets himself hope, he doesn't have time for it anyway. Another day, another animal attack to investigate.

The remains of the pack he'd killed yesterday are still running around in a neighbouring town, with the full moon tonight he can't risk wasting any time, so he's on the road less than ten minutes after waking up.

He uses his time behind the wheel to think about everything he's seen and heard since he's been in Beacon County, knows he still needs time to figure everything out but hates how slow everything seems to be moving–how slow he's moving, because of course there's traffic clogging up the road, why wouldn't there be? This case is going to be the end of him, what does he know, really, what has he worked out?

It's personal, for everyone, it has to be. Sure supernatural threats coming to Beacon Hills come as no shock, but there are hundreds of hunting families out there, each with their own Bestiary, why come for this one? There are even more assassins for hire out there, so why hire one he knows to kill him? Sure he's beaten every threat as it came, and sure he's the one with the Bestiary on his back seat, but he still feels outmanoeuvred, feels like he's playing right into this guy's hands at every turn.

There's a car, a couple of vehicles behind him that he's pretty sure is following him, a sleek grey Mercedes and he can't make out the driver, but he keeps an eye on it.

At least he knows it's a He now, He was right about you. He inhales sharply and wrestles with the urge to slam his fist down on the steering wheel because he's missing something. It all means something and he should know what by now. There's something there, someone from the past he's tried so hard to forget, hell, if he hadn't spent so long trying not to think of it he might have figured it out by now.

The traffic starts clearing, another small victory for Mitch Rapp. The Mercedes still follows behind, switches lanes when he does, he clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

He wishes it was you. He thought Peter, briefly, maybe, he was talking about the bite, but it doesn't add up. It's not his style. Why fight for a book he could so easily just take? He's seen him now anyway, knows it isn't, can't be. He'd been stupid to think it in the first place, it all feels so not Peter-like. It doesn't seem like Theo either, as much as it pains him to admit it, he still doesn't trust the guy, doesn't think he ever could, but he doesn't think he's a suspect either. 

His car rolls into a small town half the size of Beacon Hills. It's overcast out and everything seems like it's been washed in a light sheet of grey, the streets are mostly empty and he's not yet sure if that's a good thing.

He wishes she chose you. It's a clue, such a big fucking clue, glaring at him, flashing behind his eyes in a blinding light screaming look at me! It's right there and yet, nothing. So he thinks of every woman he knew back then, everyone he's ever spoken to, because it's The Clue and he knows it. His mother? Nothing. Lydia? Sure he wished she would've chosen him, dated him, acknowledged him more at least but he doesn't see why some killer would wish such a thing.