Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Look at me. This is your final chance to back out. Do you still want this?"

"Yeah... Yes, I do."

The words echoed, soft but resolute. Yet beneath them lay a torrent of uncertainty—an unspoken question she couldn’t ignore. What if... what if I’d said no? The thought gnawed at her, relentless, as if her entire world hinged on a single choice. But the dam had broken, and now the consequences flooded her life, unstoppable and unforgiving.

Weeks blurred into months. Months of simmering dread, where the past loomed heavy and the future felt like a void, swallowing every ounce of certainty. Lucy spent those days consumed by one obsession: to excel, to be the best in her field. But that level of excellence didn’t come easily—and only a select few could grant her what she truly sought.

Nyla Harper
12:08 PM
Basement Level

The cryptic text arrived abruptly, its tone more unsettling than urgent.

12:09
Don’t ask questions.
Look normal.

Lucy slipped her phone into her pocket, glancing around the bustling office. Everyone was still engrossed in their work, oblivious. Her pulse quickened as she walked—calmly, deliberately—toward the stairwell. As soon as she was out of sight, she broke into a sprint.

The staircase spiraled downward, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. She reached the double doors at the basement level, swiping her keycard to unlock them. The moment she stepped inside, her instincts screamed at her. Darkness swallowed the space, and the faint hum of her surroundings felt unnervingly absent.

Her hand hovered near her holstered weapon, the other tracing the crumbling wall for guidance. The hallway stretched out, oppressive and silent, save for the whisper of her own breath. Asbestos and bad decisions, she thought grimly, trying to steady herself. The thought offered fleeting comfort—until something yanked her violently to the side.

A hand clamped over her mouth. The sharp, chemical scent hit her immediately. Chloroform. Lucy’s body rebelled, thrashing with every ounce of strength. Her elbow connected with her attacker, eliciting a satisfying crunch, but it wasn’t enough. The world swam, her limbs faltered, and her consciousness slipped away.

Voices. Muffled, distorted. Words bled into each other, impossible to follow.

"Did you really have to go that far?"
"Yes. Secrecy is paramount. Even a whisper could jeopardize everything."
"There were easier ways—"

Lucy stirred, groaning softly. Her wrists ached, bound tightly, but the restraint felt... amateurish. She flexed her fingers, testing the zip tie. Her mind fought through the haze, grasping at fragments of memory. The basement. The text. Nyla. Why would Nyla lure her into a trap?

Unless... this is a test?

The realization hit like a slap. Her breathing steadied as she refocused. She had been trained for this. What can you hear? What can you smell? What do you know? Her old training officer’s voice echoed in her mind. The bickering continued, her captors distracted. Quietly, she began to work her hands, the sweat from her palms loosening the plastic. With one final tug, her hand slipped free.

Her heart pounded, but she kept her movements deliberate, pulling the blindfold down just enough to see. Three figures argued a few feet away, their backs turned. Good. Her body coiled with tension as she launched into action.

She took the first man down swiftly, a sharp kick to the knee followed by a twist that dislocated the joint. The second reacted quickly, wrapping his arms around her throat. Lucy countered with brute determination, driving her elbow into his ribs and then delivering a flurry of punches. He fell against the wall, and she finished him with a knee to the groin.

The third man loomed, towering and broad, his presence suffocating. Lucy was bruised and gasping for air, but she squared off.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" she demanded. Blood trickled down her cheek, but her voice held firm.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he lunged, his fist hurtling toward her head. Lucy ducked just in time, his punch colliding with the wall, embedding itself in the plaster. She seized the moment, maneuvering behind him and locking her arm around his throat. His thrashing slowed as he crumpled to the floor.

Panting, Lucy glanced at the downed men. She didn’t wait to see if they’d stay down. Bolting from the room, she sprinted toward the exit. The metallic doors at the end of the hallway began to close. No. Not now. Every muscle in her body screamed, but she pushed harder, diving at the last moment. Tim, even if they were broken up she had to see him again.

She slid under the door just as it clanged shut behind her.

Lucy laid on the floor, gasping. She looked up—and saw Nyla standing there, arms crossed.

“What the actual hell was that?!” Lucy exploded, staggering to her feet. Rage and adrenaline coursed through her. “You knew—you knew—what I’ve been through, and you still pulled this crap?”

“Took you long enough,” Nyla replied, unfazed, pushing off the wall.

Agent Garza, standing nearby, chuckled. “Impressive. I see why you vouched for her.”

Lucy glared at him, disbelief etched on her face. “You lured me into the precinct basement and kidnapped me?!”

“I know the method was... unorthodox,” Garza said smoothly, “but now we know you can handle whatever comes next.”

Lucy’s fists clenched, her pulse hammering in her ears. She wanted to scream, but she bit it back, her breathing ragged as she stared at the smug faces around her. If this was just the beginning, what the hell was coming next?

"And by the looks of it you can certainly handle yourself." Another voice came through. What she presumed was an agent walked through the crowd, a clear discoloration surround his nose and left cheek was clear. He must've been the who had taken her at the precinct.

She could say she was sorry for breaking his nose but then she'd be lying. 

"Told you she'd be the best option." Nyla countered, seeing the faces of those who doubted her.

Lucy clenched her jaw, her fists trembling at her sides. She was no stranger to difficult tests, to being pushed beyond her limits—but this? This felt personal.

Her voice, though restrained, cut through the room. “What comes next better be worth the stunt you just pulled.”

Garza didn’t flinch. His calm demeanor was as infuriating as it was calculated. “You want to be the best, don’t you?” he asked, stepping closer. “The best doesn’t happen in controlled environments or with soft reassurances. It happens here—in chaos, where everything is on the line.”

“And what if I’d failed?” Lucy shot back, her voice rising. “What if your little experiment ended with me unconscious—or worse?!”

Garza’s expression darkened. “You didn’t fail, Lucy. That’s why you’re here.”

Nyla interjected, her tone more measured. “Lucy, I get it. I do. But this wasn’t about proving you could survive. It was about proving you could adapt. You have no idea what’s coming, and if you’re not ready, it’ll swallow you whole.”

The room fell silent except for Lucy’s shallow breathing. She scanned the faces around her—Nyla, Garza, and a handful of other agents she didn’t recognize. Their stares weren’t hostile, but they weren’t exactly friendly, either. It was the look of people deciding whether she was worth their time.

Lucy took a step forward, her gaze fixed on Garza. “If you want me to trust you, then start talking. What’s going on? Why am I here?”

Garza exchanged a glance with Nyla before nodding. “Fair enough. Come with me.”

Before she could follow anyone anywhere Nyla had taken the personal responsibiltiy of cleaning Lucy up, taking her to a seperate froom as she applied some ointment to the concerningly dark bruise decorating the side of her forehead trailing down the left side of her face. The other with a deep but small cut.

"I know you're angry at me, but it needed to be done."

Lucy didn't respond, instead rolled her eyes as she kept her mouth shut for the meantime.

"Look you can hate me all you want, but I know you. You're the only one that can pull this off so we need you, they need you." She finished stiching the cut and covered it with a small patch.

"Was all this really necessary?" She asked, her brown eyes tainted with distrust. She looked far better without the blood covering her face and her hair tied up, she still felt like a mess but at least it was a slightly cleaner mess.

Nyla didn't want to be the one to put her through this, but she was her mentor, Lucy had potential she hadn't seen in quite some time. To be able to nuture it then watch her grow into roles where she successfully took down drug syndicates or child traficking rings was an oppurtunity she didn't think she'd have. But here they were, preparing for a mission Lucy didn't sign up to.

"Do you want me to be honest?" Nyla asked, finishing up as she packed away the bandages. Lucy nodded, standing as she got ready to go back and face the very agents who put her through her worst nightmare.

"Yes. I've seen you fail and succeed, even with what happened with the detectives exam and Tim, you still succeeded at gaining intel that helped put a bounty on Monica through interpol, you helped save blair which led to the DA being able to put her behind bars, the officers who were blackmailed got their justice thanks to you."

"So yes this was all necessary because I know you have it in you, whether you choose to walk away after what Garza says is up to you."

She smiled softly at Nyla, even if it was a pretty shitty day her mentor still found a way to cheer her up. That was until Nyla led her to the large conference room.

The stark, windowless room was a sharp contrast to the chaos Lucy had just endured. A single table sat in the center, surrounded by chairs. A projector hummed quietly in the corner, casting a flickering glow on the wall.

Garza gestured for Lucy to sit. She hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to stay on her feet, but she forced herself into the chair, her posture rigid.

“We’ve been watching you for a while,” Garza began, leaning on the table. “Your record, your skills—they’re impressive. But what caught our attention was your resilience. You’ve been through hell, and yet here you are, stronger than ever. That’s not common.”

Lucy crossed her arms. “Flattery’s nice, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

Garza smirked. “We’re forming a new task force. Black-ops level. Off-the-books. The kind of work that doesn’t exist on paper but has real-world consequences. And we want you on it.”

Lucy blinked, her mind racing. “A task force? Doing what, exactly?”

“Neutralizing threats before they become unmanageable. Organized crime, domestic terror cells, high-level corruption—situations where traditional law enforcement can’t operate effectively. You’d be working with the best of the best. People like Nyla, who recommended you.”

Lucy turned to Nyla, who gave her a small, almost apologetic nod.

“And the kidnapping stunt?” Lucy asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

“A final vetting exercise,” Garza admitted. “We had to see how you’d handle a high-pressure situation with no warning, no backup, and no clear objectives. You passed with flying colors.”

Lucy let the information sink in. This wasn’t just another promotion. This was an entirely different world—one where the stakes were higher, the risks greater, and the consequences unthinkable.

“And if I say no?” she asked quietly.

Garza’s smirk widened. “Then you walk out of here and back to your precinct, no questions asked. But something tells me that’s not what you want.”

Lucy didn’t respond immediately. Her thoughts churned, a storm of doubt, anger, and curiosity. Every part of her screamed that this was dangerous, that she was leaping into the unknown. But wasn’t that what she’d always done?

Another undercover mission, yet this one was different.

It was much bigger, a threat before it even became a threat.

But god did she feel alone.

She wanted to talk to him, be the one who held his hand or the one to kiss his lips. She wanted to tell him everything, cry in frustration as he held her. Lucy craved his touch, his warm breaths tickling her ear or the countless nights proving their love. But most of all she just wanted him, the broken pieces and the whole, she craved each and every bit with her whole heart.

So watching him walk away again didn't help the condescending voice berating her every move.

Neither was watching the countless girls throw themselves at him ever since word got around that they broke up.

Some had the confidence to touch and approach him every second he had away from her.

Why was it so quick for everything to change?

Was it still worth the risk, their entire lives changed for something that wasn't worth it in the end. Except Lucy didn't know- or couldn't remember life before they were apart.

She found herself missing him so much that arguing was her only option, even now as she finds herself in the locker room licking her sheltered wounds he came barraging in, searching the entire precinct before coming here.

“Rough shift?”

The voice startled her, and she turned to see Tim leaning casually against the doorframe. His tone was easy, but his expression was anything but. He knew it wasn't just the shift but she didn't cave despit her heart telling her to.

Instead she scoffed, looking away. 

“Thought you went home,” Lucy said, her voice carefully neutral.

“I did,” Tim replied, stepping into the room. “But something’s been bugging me.”

She tensed, trying to appear nonchalant. “And what’s that?”

Tim crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. “You.”

Lucy’s stomach flipped, but she kept her face composed. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Sure. That’s why you’re jumpy, distracted, and bruised all over.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Lucy, I know you. Whatever’s going on, it’s not just a training exercise. So, what is it?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came. His piercing gaze made her feel exposed, like he could see straight through her. And maybe he could. He always had.

"It's.. It's nothing, like I said before. So please don't concern yourself with me."

Tim’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. "You're hurt, Luce whoever did this to you wasn't just someone you were apprehending." His temper getting the better of him, his steps closing in on her as his eyes glossed over the patchwork of bruises littering her body. The tank top she was wearing only let him see so much before she shrugged on a jumper, backing away from him as she shut her locker with slight force.

Her eyes narrowed. “I said I’m fine, Tim. Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Because I know you,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “And I know when you’re lying. You don’t just ‘get banged up’ in some training exercise. So what is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

Lucy’s chest tightened, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you always assume it’s your business?”

“Because I care about you!” Tim shot back, his tone edged with anger now. “And because when you’re spiraling, it affects everyone around you—including this team.”

“Spiraling?” Lucy repeated, her voice sharp as she took a step toward him. “You don’t know what I’m dealing with. You don’t get to stand there and act like I owe you an explanation.”

Tim scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t owe me anything, Lucy. But don’t expect me to stand here and watch you self-destruct without saying something.”

Her temper flared, and she jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what I’m going through because you’re not in my life anymore. You made that choice, remember?”

The words hung heavy in the air, a stinging reminder of their breakup. Tim’s jaw clenched, and he took a step back, his expression a mix of anger and hurt.

“Fine,” he said after a tense pause. “If you don’t want my help, I won’t waste my time. Just don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face.”

Lucy flinched at the venom in his tone, but she refused to back down. “I won’t.”

Tim gave her one last hard look before turning on his heel and walking out. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Lucy alone in the silence.

Her breath came in shallow bursts, her hands trembling as she leaned against the locker. She hated that he’d gotten under her skin, that he could still make her feel so raw and vulnerable.

But she hated even more that, deep down, she wanted to run after him.

This had to end.

The longing, the feelings, everything that made her want to run to him. It had to stop.

Jamming her fingers through her phone she brought it up to her ear, letting go of a breath she had been holding this entire time.

“Fine. I’m in.”

Chapter Text

Ever since the phone calL Lucy had been on edge. Tim noticed it in the little things—the way she bit the ends of her fingers when she thought no one was looking, or how her lips moved in barely audible murmurs, as though rehearsing a conversation with someone who wasn’t there.

It wasn’t like her, this jittery, distracted energy. Lucy was usually calm and focused, even in the most intense situations. It gnawed at him because while she’d been undercover before, this was different. He didn’t know where she was going, who she was working with, or what dangers she might be walking into. And that lack of information drove him insane.

Tim started paying closer attention. It wasn’t deliberate at first, just subtle observations during their shifts together. She acted completely normal during her breaks, joking around with other officers and laughing at jokes that didn’t seem all that funny. But when she thought no one was watching, that mask slipped.

He tried to get more answers, even going as far as calling Celina. She was Lucy’s roommate and, Tim hoped, his best shot at figuring out what was going on.

“Have you noticed anything off with Lucy lately?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Celina hesitated, and Tim could hear the thin veneer of politeness in her response. “Not really. She’s been... busy, I guess?”

“Busy how?” he pressed.

“Look, Sergeant, I’m Team Lucy. Always have been, always will be,” Celina said pointedly. “If she hasn’t told you, there’s probably a good reason.”

Tim sighed, frustrated but unsurprised. Celina had been firmly on Lucy’s side ever since the breakup. As irritating as that loyalty was, he was glad Lucy had someone who had her back—even if that someone also believed in manifesting good vibes with crystals and moon phases.

But his concerns didn’t fade. He noticed Lucy disappearing into Grey’s office more often, and the secrecy grated on him. He knew if anyone caught on to how obsessively he was watching her, they’d call him out for being unprofessional—or worse, for acting like a jealous ex. But Tim didn’t care. He wasn’t proud of it, but he needed to know she was okay.

Even if every conversation they had seemed to spiral into an argument.

Tim’s mind wandered back to something he’d once told her, in an elevator after she’d risked everything to save his life: “In whatever small doses you allow.”

The words haunted him now because those doses were all but gone. He’d wanted her to stay happy, to keep the light that made her uniquely Lucy. But the Lucy Chen standing in front of him these days was different.

Her clothing had shifted from the bright florals and soft pastels she once wore to muted, somber tones—oversized dark sweaters, washed-out jeans, and practical sneakers. Gone were the sage skirts and cream cashmere tops that used to make her glow.

And deep down, Tim blamed himself.

The guilt weighed heavy in his chest, a constant reminder that their breakup hadn’t just hurt him. It had dimmed her. She no longer shone like the sun, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been the one to snuff out her light.

He threw another punch at the bag in front of him, harder this time. Sweat dripped from his brow, but it did little to cool the fire raging in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was slipping away, and the worst part was, he didn’t know how to stop it.

With one final, frustrated punch, the bag swung wildly on its chain. Tim let it sway as he stood there, breathing heavily. He wanted to believe he was doing better—making progress, moving on—but every time he saw Lucy, it felt like he was standing still, watching her drift further out of reach.

He pulled off his gloves and tossed them aside. That was enough for one day.

As he left the gym, his mind lingered on Lucy. She was hiding something, that much was clear. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself from demanding answers.

"Whoa, hang on there—where do you think you're going all pent up like that?" Angela called out, stepping in front of him and firmly grasping his arm to halt his hurried pace. She turned to face him fully, her sharp eyes scanning his features, quickly concluding that something was deeply troubling him.

"Angela, not now. I need to go—" he began, his voice tight with urgency and frustration.

"No," she interrupted gently but firmly, her grip steady as she met his gaze. "What you need to do is calm down before you say or do something you'll regret. Hurting someone else won't fix what's going on inside you." Her tone softened, and her expression melted from firmness into compassion as she took in the visible turmoil playing out in his tense posture and the shadows darkening his eyes.

"Talk to me," she coaxed. "Whatever it is, running headfirst into it without thinking isn’t the answer. Let me help."

For a moment, he didn’t reply. His jaw tightened as if he were holding back a torrent of words, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Angela didn’t let go of his arm, her steady presence grounding him even as his storm threatened to break loose.

His breath hitched as Angela’s words began to seep through the haze clouding his mind. He stood there, motionless, his eyes darting to hers, searching for judgment but finding none—only understanding. That was almost worse because it made the anger he clung to feel hollow.

"Angela, I..." He faltered, his voice barely above a whisper. His chest heaved as if trying to hold back the storm brewing within. "It's Lucy. She's... she's in over her head, and I can't do anything about it."

Angela's brow furrowed, her fingers loosening slightly on his arm but not letting go. "What do you mean? Is she in danger?"

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. "I don't know. That's the problem. She's been... distant. Hiding things. And now she's going undercover, and I—" He stopped himself, exhaling sharply as his voice cracked. "I can’t protect her. Not this time."

Angela’s grip shifted, her hand moving to his shoulder. "Tim," she said, her voice calm but steady. "Listen to me. Lucy is one of the smartest, most capable people I’ve ever met. You know that better than anyone. If anyone can handle this, it’s her."

"But what if she can’t?" he shot back, the anger in his voice more self-directed than anything else. "What if something goes wrong, and I’m just sitting here, useless?"

Angela stepped closer, her voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. "You’re not useless. I know it feels that way because you care about her. But right now, the best thing you can do for Lucy is to trust her and be here when she needs you. She’s got a whole team watching her back, Tim. And she knows how to fight."

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t get it. She’s not the same. Ever since the breakup—ever since I—" He stopped short, swallowing hard as the words lodged in his throat.

Angela’s gaze softened even further. "You think you broke her, don’t you?" she asked gently.

Tim's silence was answer enough.

"Then maybe you don’t see her as clearly as you think," Angela continued. "Because the Lucy I know? She doesn’t let anything— anyone—break her. She might be hurting, but she’s not broken. And neither are you, Tim."

His shoulders slumped, the tension draining from him all at once as the weight of Angela’s words settled over him. He turned his head slightly, avoiding her piercing gaze, but she didn’t let him retreat into himself.

"Let her prove you wrong," Angela urged. "And if she stumbles, you’ll be there to catch her. But don’t write her story for her before it’s even started."

Tim finally met her eyes, the storm in his fading into a pained, quiet resolve. "I just don’t want to lose her," he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Angela’s expression softened even further. "You won’t. But you need to trust her, Tim. Trust her the way she trusts you."

He nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him. For the first time in days, a sliver of clarity broke through the chaos in his mind. He wasn’t sure if Angela’s words had fixed anything, but at least now, he didn’t feel like he was drowning.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice rough but sincere.

Angela smiled faintly, finally releasing his shoulder. "Anytime. Now, go clear your head—without punching something, okay?"

A weak chuckle escaped him, and he gave her a half-smile. "I’ll try."

As Tim walked away, his pace slower, his shoulders less tense, Angela watched him go, hoping her words had been enough to keep him grounded. Whatever was coming, it was clear Tim and Lucy were on a collision course with something bigger than either of them could fully control. And Angela could only hope they’d both find their way through it—together or not. 

Angela lingered in place, her arms crossing over her chest as she watched Tim retreat down the corridor. Even though he looked calmer, she could still sense the tension in his frame, the way he carried a burden far too heavy for one person to bear. She had seen it before, in others and in herself—a need to control the uncontrollable, to shield those you cared about even when it wasn’t your place.

With a sigh, Angela turned and leaned against the nearby wall, her thoughts swirling. Tim wasn’t the only one who was worried about Lucy. The young officer’s sudden withdrawal, her insistence on taking risks without leaning on anyone—it was concerning. But she knew Lucy’s stubbornness all too well; trying to stop her would only push her further away.

And then there was Tim. Angela had never seen him this unmoored, not even during his roughest days. It wasn’t just Lucy’s safety that weighed on him—it was the unspoken guilt, the kind that festered in silence. He blamed himself for what he saw as her pain, for the way she’d closed herself off after their breakup. He carried it like a scarlet letter, even if no one else blamed him for it.

"He's going to tear himself apart," Angela muttered under her breath.

"Talking to yourself now?" A familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She turned her head to see Nyla approaching, her sharp eyes immediately locking onto Angela’s expression. "What’s going on?"

Angela gave a small shake of her head, gesturing in the direction Tim had gone. "It’s Tim. He’s in knots over Lucy, and I mean serious knots. She’s going undercover, and he’s spiraling about not being able to protect her."

Nyla raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting into something unreadable. "That’s not surprising," she said dryly. "Those two have been dancing around each other for months now. Doesn’t take a genius to see there’s unresolved business between them."

Angela huffed a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Unresolved is putting it mildly. He’s carrying around enough guilt to sink a ship, and Lucy? She’s not exactly making it easy for anyone to reach her."

Nyla crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "So, what are you thinking? Intervention? Pep talk round two?"

Angela sighed, pushing off the wall and straightening up. "I’m thinking they both need to figure out their mess, but right now, Tim needs to be steady for her. If Lucy’s going undercover, she’s going to need him to be her anchor, whether she admits it or not."

Nyla nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing in thought. "You’re not wrong. Lucy’s tough, but going under isn’t just about smarts or grit. It messes with your head. If she’s not in a good place already..." She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

"Exactly," Angela said. "I’ll keep an eye on her, but I think Tim’s the key here. If he can get his head on straight, maybe it’ll help her do the same."

Nyla gave a small nod of approval. "All right. Let me know if you need backup. And Angela?"

"Yeah?"

Nyla smirked faintly. "Don’t try to fix everyone at once. Even you have limits."

Angela chuckled, shaking her head. "Noted. But I’m still going to try."

As Nyla walked off, Angela found herself staring down the empty hallway, her mind already racing with plans. Lucy might have chosen to go it alone, and Tim might be too wrapped up in his own doubts to see clearly, but Angela wasn’t about to let either of them sink.

She’d seen enough people lose themselves in this job. Tim and Lucy weren’t going to be added to that list—not if she could help it.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Nyla asked, one brow raised as she studied the officer in front of her. The bags were already packed and loaded into the SUV waiting to transport Lucy to another location.

"Yes—wait, no," Lucy said, stumbling over her words as her eyes darted toward the precinct building behind them. "Can I have a minute before we leave?"

Nyla nodded, stepping aside. "Go ahead," she said, watching as Lucy jogged toward the entrance. From her own undercover experience, Nyla understood the importance of saying goodbyes before stepping into the unknown. The alternative was a lingering regret—or worse, a silence left behind by an untimely end.

Inside, Lucy moved quickly through the familiar hallways, her boots echoing softly against the polished floor. Her heart pounded harder with every step as her eyes scanned the room, searching for the person she needed to see.

Her gaze landed on the office door at the far end of the main floor, the one marked Watch Commander. Taking a steadying breath, she approached and knocked twice.

“Come in,” came the familiar voice from the other side.

She pushed the door open and was greeted by the warm but mildly curious smile of Sergeant Grey. His eyes flicked to the clock on his desk, then back to her.

“Chen, it’s almost ten. Shouldn’t you already be on your way?”

Lucy nodded, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. “Yeah, I’m about to leave, but I needed to do this first,” she said, her voice quiet but steady.

Grey tilted his head slightly, waiting.

“I know you’ve already been briefed by Nyla and Agent Garza, and I’m sure the patrol officers have been looped in too,” she began. “But it felt... personal for me to come here and tell you myself. Just in case—”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Lucy,” Grey interrupted, his voice calm but firm.

Lucy swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I know you have to say that, but I’ve seen enough to know the risks. I just... I need you to know how much I’ve learned here. How much you’ve taught me.”

Grey’s expression softened, his usual stoic demeanor giving way to something gentler. “Chen, you don’t need to thank me for doing my job. You’ve done the hard work—earning your place here, building trust. Whatever happens out there, you’ll handle it.”

“But if something does happen...” Lucy hesitated, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I need you to know I’m grateful. For everything.”

Grey leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he considered her words. After a moment, he nodded. “Fair enough. But remember this—you’re not alone in this, no matter how it feels out there. You’ve got a team behind you, and we’ll be waiting for you to come back.”

Lucy blinked rapidly, forcing back the emotion rising in her chest. She gave him a sharp nod. “I’ll do my best.”

“You always do,” Grey said simply, offering her a small smile.

Lucy turned to leave, pausing at the door for a final glance back. The weight in her chest didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

When she returned to Nyla, the older woman gave her a knowing look but didn’t press for details. Lucy climbed into the SUV and fastened her seatbelt, the vehicle rumbling to life as they pulled away from the precinct.

As the building disappeared in the rearview mirror, Lucy allowed herself a single thought: Stay Alive.

Arriving at the second location wasn’t what Lucy had expected. Back at the precinct, she’d assumed they’d be heading to some sort of FBI headquarters—an office with endless rows of desks and stern agents buzzing around. It seemed logical. Instead, the SUV pulled into the parking lot of a rundown motel, its flickering neon sign casting an eerie glow over the cracked pavement.

She should’ve guessed. The case file had mentioned this mission would require full immersion into her cover. Her new identity was Liz Russo, the estranged daughter of the late Mark Russo, a small-time crime boss with just enough notoriety to keep the mercenaries interested. It was the perfect disguise to infiltrate the group she'd been studying obsessively for weeks.

A sharp tap on the car window snapped her out of her thoughts. Lucy lowered it to see Agent Stensen standing there, arms crossed, her signature faint smirk firmly in place.

“You’re late,” Stensen said, her tone teasing but with a professional edge.

“I didn’t know punctuality was part of the job description,” Lucy shot back, her lips curling into a smirk of her own.

“Everything’s part of the job description,” Stensen replied coolly. “Welcome to the team.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Lucy felt a flicker of something other than anger or doubt. It wasn’t peace—she doubted she’d feel that again anytime soon—but it was close.

Stensen turned her attention to Nyla, gesturing toward the road. “Right, this is where you leave.”

Nyla raised her hands in surrender, already reaching for the car’s ignition. But Lucy’s face fell.

“Wait, you’re not staying?” she asked, a small edge of panic creeping into her voice as she looked at Nyla, hoping for a different answer.

Nyla hesitated, clearly searching for the right words, but it was Stensen who answered instead, her tone curt. “This is a classified operation. We can’t have unauthorized personnel coming and going as they please.”

Lucy wanted to argue, but Nyla was already stepping out of the vehicle, meeting her on the opposite side of the car as if she’d anticipated this reaction. Nyla’s expression softened as Lucy approached, a quiet but knowing smile forming on her face.

“Listen to me,” Nyla said gently, placing her hands on Lucy’s shoulders. “Remember your training. When in doubt, fall back. Don’t take unnecessary risks just to prove something—you have nothing to prove. Your life comes first. Always. Understand?”

She nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to suppress the lump forming there. This wasn’t just advice—it was a plea. She could see it in Nyla’s eyes.

Lucy wanted to say something more, but her voice failed her. She nodded instead, stepping back as Nyla climbed into the SUV and drove off, leaving her standing in the dim motel parking lot.

The silence around her was heavy, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Chen—sorry, Liz,” Stensen called, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming, or do you need a formal invitation?”

Lucy squared her shoulders, straightened her jacket, and followed Stensen toward the motel. Every step felt heavier than the last, but she kept moving forward. There was no turning back now.

Stensen led her to a room at the far end of the lot. Inside, it was dimly lit, with a small table surrounded by mismatched chairs. A board on the wall was covered with photos, documents, and a map peppered with red push pins.

“This is home for now,” Stensen said, gesturing at the room. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’ll be meeting the rest of the team soon, and the real work starts tomorrow.”

Lucy nodded, taking it all in. Her heart was still racing, but she forced herself to focus. She was here for a reason, and she wasn’t going to let fear or uncertainty get the better of her.

Stensen tossed a folder onto the table and crossed her arms. “This is your next step. Memorize it. Live it. You’re Liz Russo now, and if you slip up, even once, there won’t be anyone there to pull you out. Got it?”

Lucy met her gaze and nodded again. “Got it.”

“Good,” Stensen said, her smirk returning. “Let’s see if you’re as good as Nyla says you are.”

Lucy opened the folder, the weight of its contents pressing on her more than she’d expected. The first page was a detailed background of Liz Russo: a scattered life story filled with loss, rebellion, and eventual estrangement from her criminal father. Every detail had to feel natural—every word had to be her truth for the next few weeks.

The second page listed key players in the mercenary group she was tasked to infiltrate. Their leader, Malcolm "Iron" Kade, stood out immediately. His photo, grainy and slightly blurred, showed a man with piercing eyes and a scar running from his temple to his jaw. His reputation as a ruthless strategist and unwavering loyalty to his crew made him the most dangerous man in the room at any given time.

“Anything catching your eye?” Stensen asked, watching Lucy intently.

“Malcolm Kade,” Lucy replied, tapping his photo. “He’s the one I have to win over, isn’t he?”

Stensen gave a short nod. “Exactly. He’s the key. If he trusts you, the rest will fall in line. But don’t mistake his trust for safety. He’s paranoid by nature. One slip-up, and you’re done.”

Lucy stared at the photo, committing every detail to memory. “What about the others?” she asked, flipping through the profiles of Kade’s crew.

“They’re important, but Kade is the brain. The others won’t make a move without him. Your job is to play your role perfectly—make him believe you’re exactly what you claim to be. A desperate daughter looking for a family after losing everything.”

“And what happens when I gain his trust?” Lucy asked, her voice steady despite the unease bubbling beneath her surface.

“You’ll report back with intel,” Stensen said. “Movements, plans, anything we can use to dismantle his operation from the inside. And if it comes to it...” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “You’ll do what’s necessary.”

Lucy didn’t flinch. She’d known what she was signing up for, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel all the more real.

“Got it,” she said, closing the folder and standing a little taller. “What’s next?”

Stensen’s smirk widened. “Next? You meet the team.”

Lucy blinked. “I thought you said this was a solo operation.”

“It is,” Stensen replied, walking toward the door. “But even solo operatives need a safety net. Let’s go.”

She followed Stensen out of the motel room, her pulse quickening as they approached another room further down the lot. Stensen knocked once, twice, and then opened the door without waiting for a response.

Inside, three people were seated around a table cluttered with files, coffee cups, and what looked like surveillance equipment. Their conversations stopped abruptly as they turned to face Lucy.

“Everyone, meet Liz Russo,” Stensen announced, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Or, as we know her, Officer Lucy Chen.”

The tallest of the group stood first, a man in his late thirties with a buzz cut and an intimidating presence. “Alex Harper,” he said gruffly, extending a hand. Lucy shook it, his grip firm but not overbearing.

Next was a woman with sharp features and an air of impatience. “Mia Vega,” she said simply, nodding at Lucy but not bothering to offer her hand.

The third was a younger man, maybe in his late twenties, with an easy smile and an unmistakable tech-geek vibe. “Elliot Chase,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m your guy for anything digital. Need a background erased or a phone tapped? I’m your man.”

Lucy forced a small smile, but her nerves were starting to fray. She’d expected to be briefed and sent on her way—not introduced to a full team.

“You’ll be working with them behind the scenes,” Stensen explained. “Harper’s your handler for field communication. Vega handles logistics. Elliot will make sure your cover holds up against even the deepest digs.”

Lucy nodded, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. Each of them was sizing her up, measuring her against whatever expectations they had. She couldn’t afford to falter.

“When do I meet Kade?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Harper chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “Straight to business, huh? You’ll meet him tomorrow. Tonight, we prep.”

Stensen clapped her hands once. “You’ve got the night to review everything and get your head straight. No mistakes, Chen. If you mess this up, it’s not just your life on the line.”

Lucy nodded, swallowing hard. “Understood.”

Just as Lucy prepared for an early night, a soft beep broke the silence. Her burner phone lit up on the nightstand, its glow cutting through the dim room. This was her lifeline to Nyla or Garza, a separate thread from the fake phone she used to communicate with her undercover team. The screen displayed a new message.

10:32
Nyla
Check in?

Lucy quickly picked up the phone, her fingers moving over the screen.

Lucy
All good
Just met the team
Same surname?

A reply came almost instantly.

Nyla
You met Alex?
He's good
Bit arrogant but good

Lucy smirked faintly, shaking her head.

Lucy
Reminds me of someone I know

The response from Nyla was just as quick, and Lucy could almost hear the dry tone in her words.

Nyla
Very funny
Get some rest
Will check in tomorrow

Lucy typed out a quick goodnight before setting the phone back on the nightstand. It was a small exchange, but the weight of the burner phone in her hand reminded her of its transient nature. In a few hours, the data would be wiped clean, leaving no trace that the conversation had even happened. It was a smart precaution but one that left her feeling lonelier than she already did.

Not that she minded the quick check-ins with Nyla—they were just part of the job. But Lucy knew they were more obligation than connection. The truth was, she wished she could talk to someone else. Someone miles away, probably not even thinking about her. She hadn’t said goodbye to him, hadn’t even let herself try.

His name lingered in her thoughts, a heavy presence she didn’t dare speak aloud. Saying it now would feel foreign, wrong. And yet, a part of her knew she should have said something, anything, before she left. But what was the point now?

What’s said is done, she told herself, pushing the thought away.

Lucy turned off the burner phone and leaned back against the thin pillow, staring at the cracked ceiling above her. Sleep wouldn’t come easily, but she didn’t mind that either. In the morning, Liz Russo would take her place, and Lucy Chen would have to disappear for a while. Maybe longer.

Tomorrow, the mission began. And there was no space in her world for second thoughts.

Chapter Text

Lucy stared at her reflection in the cracked motel mirror. The harsh, flickering fluorescent light above her head gave her skin a pale, ghostly glow, and for a moment, she barely recognized herself. The deep red lipstick, smoky eyeliner smudged to perfection, and cheap gold necklace were all parts of a carefully crafted illusion. Liz Russo, the grieving daughter, the fragile temptation—her mask for the night. With steady fingers, she leaned closer to the mirror and pressed her eyeliner into a deliberate blur beneath her lashes. The woman staring back at her wasn’t Lucy Chen. Lucy would never wear a dress like this or let her hair fall in such messy waves, but Liz Russo? Liz had no choice.

Taking a step back, Lucy ran her hands through her brown hair, tousling it until it had just the right amount of careless sex appeal. Messy, yet striking. She needed Kade’s attention, but not too quickly. He was the kind of man who liked his prey vulnerable, broken enough to mold. Her job wasn’t to convince him of her strength—it was to make him believe she had none.

Sliding into a black slip dress so tight it felt like a second skin, Lucy winced as she slipped her feet into six-inch heels that made her legs look endless. A soft click as she strapped on her thigh holster, the cold steel of the Glock pressing against her skin. The weight was comforting—her only protection in this dangerous game. Adjusting it carefully, she ensured the gun was invisible under the dress. She could count on it, unlike the team waiting outside.

After grabbing her clutch and slipping a bracelet over her wrist, she glanced back at the room. Before stepping out, Lucy moved the plant pot beside the door so it barely grazed the edge. A tiny trick she’d learned in her rookie years—if someone entered her room while she was gone, she’d know.

The steel staircase outside the motel groaned under her heels as she descended, each step dragging all eyes her way. She could feel the stares—the leering gazes of strangers sizing her up. Her stomach churned, but she lifted her chin higher. If they knew what hid beneath this silk and lipstick, they’d think twice about staring. She climbed into the waiting SUV with a confidence that wasn’t entirely her own.

Alex let out a wolf whistle, gone was his gruff exterior as he gave a toothy grin. It seemed as if after last night he had let down some of his walls. “Damn Chen, you clean up nice.”

But Lucy was in no mood to carry out his joking tone so gave a tight-lipped smile; Mia could see past her forced façade and rolled her eyes. “Let’s get going shall we.”

Alex sat in the driver’s seat whilst Mia in the passenger, leaving Lucy with Elliot who sat beside her, uncharacteristically silent, his gaze flicking from her dress to the Glock outline he thought he saw beneath it.

As the SUV pulled away, Mia turned in her seat, sliding a tablet across to Lucy. “Havana City is the target,” she explained briskly. “It’s a hotspot for syndicate activity—drug trading, product testing, recruitment. Kade tends to show up late, after he’s made his rounds.”

Lucy’s brows furrowed. “You don’t mean—”

Mia’s eyes darkened, her voice dropping. “He makes sure his products work. Always leaves a trail of victims to prove it. If he’s in a good mood tonight, it’s because someone suffered for it.”

Lucy’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. This wasn’t new information, but hearing it said aloud made it hit differently. This man was a monster. But she couldn’t think of that now. She couldn’t afford to care.

Elliot tapped on the tablet, pulling up a detailed map. “This is the layout of Havana City. Fire exits are marked in red, secret rooms in green, and blue for the stash zones. You’ll be here, in the gray area—the general floor.” He leaned closer, pointing to a small exit near the bar. “Stick close to the fire exit if you need to bolt. And remember—don’t engage. Tonight’s about observation, not confrontation.”

Lucy leaned back, folding her arms. “So, my job is just to sit there and look pretty?”

Alex smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Exactly. Think you can handle that, Chen?”

Lucy shot him a glare, but it was Mia who responded. “Chen, Kade’s not someone you mess with. He’s methodical, and he doesn’t trust easily. One misstep, and you’ll be lucky if all he does is snap you in half.”

The weight of those words silenced Lucy. She looked out the window, watching the city blur past in neon lights and crowded streets. It felt like Vegas—loud, chaotic, and brimming with danger.

Yet this time, she didn’t have him beside her. He wasn’t holding her hand, tracing his fingers through every dip and crevice of her palm, grounding her with the kind of quiet comfort only he could provide. The absence of that touch felt like a hollow ache, something she’d buried but couldn’t escape tonight.

Through the rearview mirror, Mia watched Lucy dissociate, her eyes flickering for a brief second before locking onto some invisible point in the distance. It was like she was holding onto something intangible, clutching it with an intensity that made Mia’s chest tighten.

With a subtle elbow to Alex, Mia jerked her chin toward the mirror. He followed her gaze, both of them now watching Lucy silently. It felt intrusive, even creepy, but they had to know if she was up for the mission. If she wasn’t in the right headspace, sending her in could be a fatal mistake.

Alex cleared his throat. “Look… we heard about what happened with Tim—”

Lucy’s head snapped to the side, her sharp gaze cutting through the front seat. “Who told you that?” Her voice was low, but the tension in it could have sliced through steel. The air in the car thickened instantly, her tone carrying a weight that made both Alex and Mia pause.

The best thing about starting over with new people was being treated for who you were now, not what you’d been through. Not for the wreckage you left behind. Lucy silently cursed Nyla. Of course it was her. Nyla must have told them something, shared pieces of a story that weren’t hers to tell.

Mia raised her hands in surrender, her voice unusually soft. “Don’t worry, we’re not trying to humiliate or embarrass you—”

“Please do not do this right now.” Lucy’s words came out clipped and unforgiving, leaving no room for argument. She didn’t want this conversation. Not now, not ever.

Alex shifted uncomfortably, but his voice remained steady. “Chen, if you’re distracted at all tonight, we need to call it off. We can do this another night, or we can send someone else—”

“Can you all just shut up!” Lucy’s voice cracked, a sharp cry that shattered the growing tension. The shrillness of it echoed in the confined space, silencing everyone instantly. Even Alex, usually full of snark, didn’t dare speak.

The car fell into a suffocating silence, the only sound the faint hum of the engine as the SUV sped down the neon-lit streets. Lucy closed her eyes for a moment, pressing her trembling hands into her lap as she struggled to rein in the storm brewing inside her chest. She took a deep breath, then another, willing herself to speak without breaking again.

“Nyla had no right bringing that up,” she finally said, her voice quieter now but no less fierce. “But now that you know—fine. Yes, we broke up. And no, I’m not going to be distracted, because unlike some people, I can separate work from personal life.” Her words were sharp, each syllable laced with venom, but there was an undercurrent of hurt she couldn’t fully mask.

Her chest heaved slightly as she exhaled, pushing back the tears threatening to well in her eyes. “So please,” she added, her voice trembling ever so slightly, “can we just talk about something else?”

Mia glanced at Alex, her lips pressed into a thin line. Neither of them said a word. What could they say? Lucy was right—this wasn’t the time, and they weren’t the people she wanted to confide in.

For the rest of the drive, the team remained silent, the weight of Lucy’s outburst settling over them like a thick fog. Lucy turned her gaze back to the window, her reflection staring back at her from the glass. She barely recognized the person she saw.

Tim’s face flashed in her mind—his easy smile, the way he used to laugh at her terrible jokes, the warmth in his voice when he said her name. She clenched her jaw, pushing the memories down into the depths of her mind where they couldn’t touch her.

This was just another mission. Another chance to prove she could be the Lucy Chen who didn’t need anyone. Who could handle herself, no matter how much it hurt to keep moving forward.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of her seat. Work and personal life. Separate them. Compartmentalize. It was the only way she knew how to survive.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, she’d unpack it all. But not tonight. Not when so much depended on her being the unshakable Lucy they all needed her to be.

When the car pulled up outside the club, Elliot handed her two devices: a skin-toned earpiece and a thin choker-like transmitter. “The comm goes in your ear. The necklace amplifies your voice to us. It’s subtle but effective.”

Gone was the unease of awkward quietness.

Lucy clipped the earpiece in place. “Testing.”

Elliot’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Crystal clear.”

As Elliot started explaining the tech, Mia interrupted, her tone sharp. “Sean and Yaco are here.”

Two large men approached the car, their imposing figures standing guard outside her door. “Bodyguards?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mia nodded. “They’ve been with you since birth, It’s part of the illusion. You’re untouchable- like glass. One crack, and you shatter. That’s what’ll attract Kade.”

Lucy wasn’t thrilled, but she nodded, stepping out of the SUV. The bass of the club hit her first, vibrating through her bones as she walked inside. Sean and Yaco flanked her, but they stopped at the entrance, leaving her to navigate the chaos alone.

Inside, the scene was pure debauchery. Couples made out against walls, others gambled at tables covered in money and drugs. Women danced in glass cages, their bodies moving in hypnotic rhythm. Lucy swallowed hard, her stomach tightening.

Taking a seat at the bar she waved the bartender down, ordering her drink, whilst she waited, she brushed her brown hair back with her hand, scanning the room for her target. Her training kicked in, cataloguing faces, gestures, patterns. When her drink arrived, she lifted it to her lips, muttering into her comm, “No sign of Kade.”

“Copy that,” Mia replied.

Lucy’s patience was tested as she played her role, drawing attention with her flirtatious glances and coy smiles. Men approached her in waves, offering drinks, compliments, and promises. She entertained them all, keeping her eyes peeled for Kade.

With a curt nod she thanked the bartender and sipped the red straw, her lips tingling with the sensation alcohol usually brought. It was strange to her, drinking on the job. But she guessed this was different compared to a ‘regular’ job.

Deciding to push the boundaries a little, Lucy slid out of her seat. She knew Alex’s orders were clear: sit still, be seen and not heard. But Kade wasn’t here yet, and she had time to make herself useful. Mingling, observing—doing some real undercover work—seemed a better use of her time than sitting idle.

Her experience as Sava—or “Juicy,” as some of her old marks had called her—served her well now. Confidence wrapped around her like a second skin as she scanned the room. Her sharp gaze locked onto the men on Elliot’s tablet, one by one, sizing them up. Most looked like they belonged in the background, mere pawns in Kade’s operation. Except for one.

He stood out immediately—tufts of black hair, dark, beady eyes that glinted under the low lights. His confidence mirrored her own, and he wasted no time closing the distance between them.

“You’re a hard one to miss,” he said, his voice oily as he leaned in, his fingers trailing boldly down her side.

But before his hand could finish its path, another stopped it mid-motion.

Lucy’s heart jumped. She looked up, and there he was. Malcolm Kade, in the flesh. The man who wasn’t supposed to show up tonight, standing inches away. She barely contained the gasp threatening to escape her lips.

“I’m sure the lady doesn’t want to be touched,” Kade said, his deep voice rumbling low, each syllable dripping with authority. The sound of it sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

He’s a bad man. The thought repeated in her mind like a mantra as she struggled to keep her composure, resisting the strange pull his presence created.

Kade yanked the lackey’s arm back with a brutal force that made Lucy wince. His grip was merciless, and for a second, she thought he might actually snap the guy’s arm. Acting quickly, she placed a hand on Kade’s wrist, her voice steady.

“Why don’t we go over there?” she suggested, nodding toward a corner booth tucked away from the crowd. Close to a fire exit, private and out of sight—it was the perfect place to corner him without drawing too much attention.

Kade hesitated, his dark eyes scanning her face, before releasing the lackey’s arm with a sharp push. The man stumbled back, clutching his wrist and disappearing into the crowd.

He turned his focus back to her, his gaze lingering. Then, with a faint smirk, he gestured toward the booth and rested his hand low on her back, guiding her through the increasingly suffocating throng of people.

Once they reached the booth, Kade extended his hand. “Kade. Malcolm Kade.”

Lucy slipped her hand into his, immediately noticing the size difference. His hand enveloped hers entirely, firm yet not aggressive. “Liz Russo,” she replied smoothly.

“Russo?” he repeated, his expression shifting slightly, a flicker of distrust crossing his face. “Where do I know that name from?”

Lucy kept her smile easy, light. “You might’ve known my father,” she said, tilting her head coyly. Her voice was casual, as if this were just another chance meeting. Of course, she knew he did. The real Liz Russo had been the daughter of a powerful man Kade once worked with—before her death.

Lucy had studied Liz meticulously, down to the smallest detail. Their similar facial features, thanks to shared heritage, had made the impersonation easier. Still, the resemblance wasn’t perfect. If anyone looked too closely, they might notice the discrepancies. Thankfully, Liz had lived a life of isolation. The only people who had seen her regularly were her father and his bodyguards.

“Elizabeth?” Kade said, his voice tinged with recognition.

“Oh, nobody calls me that anymore,” Lucy chuckled, lowering her head as if embarrassed.

Kade’s expression softened, a smile breaking through his hardened exterior. “No way. You’re little Lizzy. I worked with your father when you were a kid.”

Just like that, the conversation shifted. The sinister man she’d expected melted away, replaced by someone startlingly warm—an almost overwhelming uncle figure reminiscing about the past.

“I know,” Lucy said, feigning enthusiasm. “My father talked about you all the time.” Her words dripped with exaggeration, but Kade seemed to buy it, leaning in as though she were a long-lost niece.

The buzzing in her ear startled her. Her team was calling, their voices urgent as they instructed her to stand down and retreat. Contact with Kade wasn’t supposed to happen yet. It was too soon.

But how would it look if she just got up and left now? No, there was no way she could do that.

As Kade continued talking about her “father,” Lucy reached up, brushing her hair back while subtly clicking off her comms. The buzz fell silent, cutting her team out completely.

Her heartbeat quickened as she focused on Kade’s words, his deep voice pulling her in as he recounted old stories. This wasn’t just a conversation—it was a chess game, every move critical. And for now, Lucy was all in.

Lucy sat across from a man she’d been told was a ruthless drug dealer, a man with no mercy—a serial killer with a network that spanned continents. The stories about him were gruesome, enough to send shivers down even the hardest of spines. Yet here he was, leaning back in the booth, his lips curled in a faint smile as he reminisced about her “father.”

He was nothing like what she’d pictured. His tone was warm, almost fond. He didn’t wear the cold, calculating expression she’d been trained to expect, nor did his eyes betray the cruelty of a man who had taken countless lives.

Maybe it was just her—or Liz. Maybe the sight of a familiar face brought out a side of him few ever saw. Or maybe, beneath this facade, he was still every bit the monster they said he was. Maybe this was just the calm before he disposed of her.

“So, Lizzy,” Kade said, his deep voice pulling her from her thoughts, “what have you been up to all these years? It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”

Lucy hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Oh, you know, life’s been... complicated. After Dad passed, I just tried to stay out of trouble.” She offered him a smile, soft and almost shy, playing the role of a grieving daughter reconnecting with an old family friend.

Kade nodded, his gaze lingering on her. “And your mother?”

“She’s... gone too,” Lucy lied smoothly. It was easier to paint Liz Russo as alone in the world, with no one to verify or contradict her story.

Kade’s expression softened further, his body language losing some of its tension. “I’m sorry to hear that. Your father was a good man, Lizzy. A tough man, but he always had your best interests at heart.”

Lucy fought the urge to scoff. A good man? Mark Russo had been a weapons dealer and drug lord, masking his empire behind a thin veil of legitimacy. But she couldn’t let any of that slip. Instead, she leaned forward, her voice gentle.

“What about you, Mr. Kade? What do you do now?”

He smirked at the question, leaning back in his seat. “Call me Malcolm. ‘Mr. Kade’ makes me feel old.”

She chuckled softly, tilting her head. “Alright, Malcolm. What do you do these days? Still working with... Dad’s old friends?”

There it was—a subtle prod, but not too much. Just enough to see if he’d take the bait.

Kade’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to read her. For a moment, she thought she’d pushed too far. But then he relaxed, his demeanor shifting.

“You know, I’ve been keeping busy,” he said vaguely, his tone light but guarded. “Running a few businesses here and there. Nothing as exciting as your dad’s world, though.”

Lucy nodded, her expression neutral, though her mind raced. He wasn’t ready to let her in, not yet. But she could sense he was teetering on the edge.

“Do you know what your father did for a living?” Kade asked suddenly, his voice lower, testing her.

The question hit like a hammer, but Lucy didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, her pulse quickening. If she denied it outright, she’d look naïve. If she admitted too much, she’d blow her cover.

“I know enough,” she said softly, her eyes locking onto his. There was no hesitation in her tone, no wavering.

For a moment, Kade said nothing, his dark eyes studying her. Then, as if her answer was all he needed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black card. He slid it across the table to her, his movements deliberate.

“That’s my personal number,” he said. “If you ever need anything—or if you want to catch up properly—give me a call.”

Lucy—no, Liz—allowed a smile to bloom on her face, wide and genuine. To him, it looked like the joy of reconnecting with a piece of her father’s past. To her, it was the thrill of victory. This was the next step, the crack in the door she needed.

Kade leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ll admit, Lizzy, seeing you here was a surprise. A good one, but still a surprise. I’m not sure... if this is the kind of world you’d want to step into.”

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Why not?”

He chuckled, but it lacked humour. “Because your father worked hard to keep you out of it. And if you’re anything like him... you’ll want to stay out.”

Lucy let his words hang in the air, her mind calculating her next move. She had him curious, but not convinced. Yet.

“Maybe,” she said after a pause, her tone light. “But it’s good to see a familiar face. Dad always said you were the one person he could count on.”

The words were a calculated risk, and they worked. Kade’s expression softened just enough for her to see it.

“Take care of yourself, Lizzy,” he said, standing and offering her one last lingering look before disappearing into the crowd.

As the door to the booth swung closed, Lucy let out a quiet exhale. The card in her hand felt heavier than it should. This wasn’t just a connection—it was a lifeline, a direct path into Kade’s inner circle.

She tucked it into her pocket, her mind already turning over how to use it. For Liz, this might have been about reconnecting with her dad’s old “hot friend.” But for Lucy, this was everything.

The second Lucy stepped into the van, she knew what awaited her. The comms in her ear had been eerily silent since she switched them off mid-conversation with Malcolm Kade, but as soon as she turned them back on, she would be under siege. Her team would be yelling about her recklessness, her inability to follow the plan, and how she’d done the exact opposite of what was needed tonight.

And yet, as she leaned back against the bathroom’s cold tiled walls, Lucy couldn’t bring herself to care.

She did it.

She got her foot in the door—enough to make a connection, enough to turn a man like Kade from a shadowy figure into someone who trusted her, even if only slightly. Her team wouldn’t see the small victory, not like she did. All they’d see was the risk she took. But to Lucy, this was worth it.

Her pulse was still racing as she stepped back into the club for one last drink. She made her way to the bar, weaving through the thinning crowd with practiced ease. Leaning against the counter, she ordered a whiskey, neat. No time to savor it tonight—she downed the amber liquid in one go, the burn steadying her nerves.

The bartender raised an eyebrow as she slid over a generous tip, but Lucy barely noticed. She needed to get her head on straight. If her nerves showed now, if even a flicker of doubt crossed her face, her team would tear her apart the moment she climbed into the van.

As the glass hit the counter, she took a moment to scan the club. The music thumped, bass reverberating through her chest as the crowd danced and mingled, oblivious to what had just transpired. It was exactly how she’d left it.

Except now, Kade was gone.

Her eyes swept across the room, then again, slower this time. No Kade. No lackeys. Her stomach churned slightly.

Where did he go?

He wouldn’t just leave. Men like Malcolm Kade didn’t disappear without reason. If anything, he was likely rounding the back, distributing product or regrouping with his men. Leaving entirely? Not his style.

Lucy inhaled deeply, smoothing her hands down her thighs as she pushed herself off the bar. She needed to get moving.

Stepping outside, she reached up and turned her comms back on. The moment the signal reconnected, her earpiece exploded in a cacophony of voices.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Chen, are you out of your mind?!”

“Lucy! That was not the plan—”

She winced as their accusations slammed into her, each voice growing louder as they all fought to be heard.

Lucy cut through the noise, her voice steady but sharp. “Enough!”

The van fell silent, but she could feel their collective anger through the comms. She exhaled, letting the silence linger a second longer before speaking again.

“I know it wasn’t the plan,” she admitted, her voice calmer now. “But it worked.”

There was a pause, then Mia’s voice cut through. “Worked? Lucy, do you even realize what you risked? If Kade suspected anything, you wouldn’t have made it out of there alive!”

“I know.” Lucy’s response was measured, almost detached. She rubbed at her temple, frustration bubbling under the surface. “But he didn’t, okay? I got what we needed—a way in. I talked to him, face to face. I made him believe I’m Liz Russo. He gave me his personal number.”

“You what?” Alex’s voice was incredulous, the disbelief palpable.

“He gave me his number,” Lucy repeated, her tone firmer this time. “If all goes well, I can call him tomorrow. Maybe ask for help, maybe something else—whatever it takes to get closer. This is how we move forward.”

The line went quiet again, but she could sense their disapproval lingering. To them, this was reckless. But to her, this was progress.

As she approached the van, Lucy squared her shoulders, bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation. She’d face their criticism, their anger, their doubt.

Because at the end of the day, they didn’t need to understand why she did it. They didn’t need to see the bigger picture.

She did.

And if everything went according to plan, tonight would be the turning point—the moment Malcolm Kade started to let his guard down.

It wasn’t just a risky move. It was the next step in taking him down.

The van doors slid open, and Lucy climbed inside to a wall of cold, stony faces. Alex sat rigidly, arms crossed like a statue, while Mia leaned against the interior, her sharp eyes narrowing as they tracked Lucy’s every move. Elliot didn’t even look up from his laptop, though the rapid tapping of keys betrayed his barely contained irritation.

The silence was worse than yelling.

“Alright,” Lucy said, throwing her bag onto the seat beside her and leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “Let’s hear it. Tell me how I screwed up.”

Alex didn’t hesitate. “You didn’t just screw up, Chen. You compromised the entire operation.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, arms crossing defensively. “Compromised? I made contact. You’ve been circling Kade for months, and tonight, I got us in.”

“At what cost?” Alex snapped, leaning forward. “Do you even realize the risk you took? You weren’t supposed to engage yet. If he figures out who you really are, it’s not just your life on the line. It’s all of ours.”

“I handled it,” Lucy shot back, her tone sharp. “He didn’t figure anything out.”

“And what if he did?” Mia interjected, her voice like a blade cutting through the argument. She pushed off the wall, stepping closer to Lucy, her gaze unflinching. “You think you’re invincible, Chen? You think you can just waltz in there, make nice with a guy like Kade, and walk away clean? He’s not some idiot you can charm into trusting you. He’s a killer. A manipulator. You’re a speck of dust in his world, and he’ll crush you the second he suspects something’s off.”

Lucy laughed—short, bitter, and hollow. “Trust me, I know exactly who Malcolm Kade is. But thanks for the lecture.”

“Don’t,” Mia warned, her voice icy. “Don’t act like this is some game. You went in there alone, against orders, because you didn’t trust us to have your back.”

That made Lucy laugh again, louder this time, though there was no humour in it. “Trust you? Are you kidding me? Not one of you has trusted me since the moment I walked in here.”

Mia’s jaw tightened, but Lucy didn’t stop.

“You’ve been calculating, second-guessing, hovering over every move I make. You say I don’t trust you, but when have any of you trusted me? You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me? Like I’m some loose cannon who’s one mistake away from blowing the whole mission?”

“Maybe because you keep proving us right,” Alex muttered, earning a sharp glare from Lucy.

Mia held up a hand, silencing Alex before locking her gaze on Lucy. “You want trust? Earn it. We’ve been doing this a hell of a lot longer than you have. You might’ve gotten lucky tonight, but luck doesn’t last.”

“And neither does standing still,” Lucy snapped back, leaning forward to meet Mia’s glare head-on. “You’re all so obsessed with playing it safe that you’re missing the point. This isn’t about following some perfect plan. It’s about reacting to the situation I was in, getting results. And I got them.”

“Did you?” Mia challenged. “Because all I see is a reckless rookie who can’t see past her own ego long enough to realize she’s putting everyone else at risk.”

Lucy’s fists clenched; her knuckles white. For a moment, it looked like she might explode. But instead, she stood, shoving her bag off the seat and slinging it over her shoulder.

“If I’m such a liability,” she said coldly, “maybe you shouldn’t have brought me along.”

With that, she pushed past Mia and climbed out of the van, slamming the door behind her.

Inside, the silence was deafening.

“She’s going to get herself killed,” Alex muttered, shaking his head.

Mia didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the door as if willing it to reopen. After a moment, she turned to Elliot. “Get me everything we have on Kade’s movements tonight. I want to know where he went after she left him.”

“And Lucy?” Alex asked, his tone skeptical.

Mia hesitated, then shook her head. “Let her cool off. She’ll be back.”

But as the van rumbled to life, driving off into the night, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind. Lucy Chen wasn’t just reckless—she was determined. And Mia wasn’t sure if that made her an asset or a liability.

The night air bit at Lucy’s skin as she paced down the dimly lit alley, her breath visible in the cold. The tension from the van still gripped her chest like a vice, but she shoved it down, pulling her coat tighter around her. They didn’t get it. They never would.

She needed to clear her head, but her thoughts kept circling back to Kade. His voice, the way he’d looked at her—like she was familiar, like she mattered. For a moment, she hadn’t been Lucy Chen, the rookie detective. She’d been Liz Russo, someone worthy of his attention.

And then there was the number.

She pulled the slip of paper from her pocket, her fingers trembling slightly as she stared at it. A simple string of digits, but it felt like a key. A way in.

Her comm crackled to life in her ear, a sharp reminder of the team she’d just left behind. “Lucy,” Mia’s voice snapped, sharp and no-nonsense. “Where the hell are you?”

Lucy hesitated, tempted to ignore it again, but she pressed the button anyway. “Walking. Thinking.”

“Get back to base,” Mia ordered.

“I need space,” Lucy shot back. “Unless you want me storming in there and blowing up at everyone again, give me a damn minute.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Lucy thought Mia might push back. But instead, her voice softened, though only slightly. “Fine. But don’t do anything stupid.”

“Noted,” Lucy said, and clicked the comm off again.

Her fingers curled around Kade’s number. Was this stupid? She wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew was that she needed to keep moving forward, and Kade was her best shot.

Back at the Safehouse

Mia slammed her hand on the table, causing Alex to jump. “She’s going to get herself killed, and you know it.”

“She’ll come around,” Alex said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

“Will she?” Mia snapped. “Because every time we try to reel her in, she digs her heels in deeper. She doesn’t trust us, Alex. And honestly? I don’t blame her.”

Alex frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve been treating her like a liability since day one,” Mia admitted, her voice heavy with frustration. “Every move she makes, we’re there to criticize it. She knows it, and it’s making her reckless. If we don’t figure out how to get on the same page, this mission is going to fall apart.”

Elliot finally looked up from his laptop, his expression unreadable. “So what’s the plan? Because right now, she’s out there, doing who knows what, with Kade’s number in her pocket.”

Mia’s jaw clenched. “We stick to the plan. We monitor Kade’s movements, track every step he takes. And we keep an eye on Lucy, whether she likes it or not.”

“And if she crosses a line?” Alex asked.

Mia’s silence was answer enough.

Lucy stopped outside a coffee shop, the warm glow of its lights inviting against the cold night. She stepped inside, ordered a drink, and took a seat by the window.

She pulled out her phone, staring at the blank screen for what felt like hours. The number taunted her, daring her to make the call.

Finally, she typed it in, her thumb hovering over the call button.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she muttered to herself.

Plenty. But before she could second-guess herself, she hit dial.

The phone rang twice before his voice answered, smooth and deliberate. “Kade.”

Lucy felt her heart jump. “Hey, uh… Malcolm. It’s Liz. From earlier.”

A pause, then a low chuckle. “Elizabeth. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I, um… just wanted to thank you for earlier,” she said, trying to sound casual. “And, well, I was wondering if you’d be open to meeting again. I feel like we didn’t get to talk much.”

Kade was silent for a moment, and Lucy held her breath. Finally, he said, “I had some work to do. Tell you what—why don’t I text you an address? Tomorrow night. We’ll talk.”

Lucy’s pulse quickened. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Kade said, his tone unreadable. “Don’t be late Lizzy.”

The line went dead, and Lucy let out a shaky breath, a strange mix of exhilaration and dread swirling in her chest.

Tomorrow night.

She knew she should call it in, let the team know. But as she stared out at the dark streets, the thought of their scolding faces and clipped words made her pause.

This was her lead. Her way in.

Lucy slipped her phone back into her pocket and finished her coffee, her mind racing. Tomorrow night. Just the thought of seeing Kade again sent a mix of nerves and anticipation coursing through her. She would have to be careful, though. She couldn't afford to let her emotions cloud her judgment—not when she was this close to cracking the case.

Outside, the streets were quiet, the city’s hum distant but ever-present. Lucy began walking back to the safehouse, her resolve hardening with each step. Kade was a dangerous man, no doubt about it. But she could handle him. She had to.

The door creaked open, and all heads turned as Lucy stepped inside. Mia was the first to speak, her tone sharp. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Lucy shut the door behind her, her face impassive as she shrugged off her coat. “What’s there to explain? I did what I had to do.”

“What you had to do?” Mia echoed, rising from her seat. “You went off script, made contact with Kade directly, and ignored every single protocol we’ve drilled into you.”

Lucy crossed her arms, her voice cold. “And yet, I’m the one who got results.”

“Results?” Mia scoffed. “You think a phone number is worth the risk you just took? Do you even realize how reckless that was?”

Lucy let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Reckless? That’s rich coming from a team that hasn’t trusted me from the start. Let’s not pretend this is about protocol. This is about you not believing I’m capable.”

Mia’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t twist this around. We’re trying to keep you alive.”

“No,” Lucy snapped, her voice rising. “You’re trying to control me. From the moment I joined this team, you’ve been second-guessing every move I make. Not once have you trusted me to know what I’m doing.”

Alex stepped in, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Lucy, that’s not fair—”

“Isn’t it?” Lucy cut him off, her gaze darting between them. “You’ve all been calculating, watching, waiting for me to screw up so you can say, ‘I told you so.’ And now, because I went and actually made progress, you’re pissed.”

Mia’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything. The silence was deafening, tension hanging thick in the air.

Finally, Elliot broke it, his voice quiet but firm. “What’s the plan, then? Since you seem to think you’ve got it all figured out.”

Lucy met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “The plan is to follow this lead. I’ve got a meeting with Kade tomorrow night.”

Mia’s eyes widened. “You what?”

Lucy smirked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to schedule a meeting with him first?”

“This isn’t a joke, Lucy!” Mia snapped, slamming her hand on the table. “You’re walking into a lion’s den, and you think you can just charm your way through it?”

Lucy’s smirk faded, her voice hardening. “I’m not stupid, Mia. I know what I’m doing. Kade trusts me—or, at least, he trusts Liz Russo. And that’s more than any of you have managed to accomplish.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, we just want to make sure you’re safe. Let us back you up on this.”

Lucy hesitated, the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes gone as quickly as it appeared. “I’ll let you know what happens after the meeting. Until then, stay out of my way.”

With that she turned and walked out the door, heading for the room next door, leaving the team in stunned silence.

After changing into her pajamas and brushing her teeth, Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper of the safehouse bedroom. The mattress creaked under her as she shifted, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the worn fabric of the quilt. She’d hoped exhaustion would pull her into sleep, but it evaded her completely. Instead, her mind churned like a storm, each thought louder than the last.

This was only the first day of truly working with her new team, and she’d already blown it. She replayed the argument in her head, every sharp word she’d thrown at Mia, Alex, and Elliot. Every defensive barb and bitter laugh echoed like a broken record. Maybe she’d been too harsh. Maybe she shouldn’t have let her pride speak for her.

But could they really blame her for being defensive? No one trusted her. No one thought she could handle herself. From the moment she stepped through their door, their skepticism had been palpable—eyes always on her, looking for cracks. Lucy laughed bitterly under her breath. If only they knew how many cracks there were.

She leaned back against the headboard, letting her head fall against it with a dull thud. "Buried alive by a serial killer, but talking to one wasn’t remotely as difficult," she muttered to the empty room. That realization felt heavier than it should. Kade had been dangerous, calculated, and yet somehow... easy. A small part of her hated how natural it felt to play Liz Russo, to slip into the lie and let it shield her vulnerabilities.

But that wasn’t who she wanted to be. Lucy pressed her palms against her face, groaning softly. She hated this version of herself—the hardass who snapped and shut everyone out, the one who had no room for vulnerability or softness. She missed the Lucy she used to be, the one who could laugh without forcing it, the one who cracked jokes even when the world was on fire.

Where had that version of herself gone? Was she buried alongside the victims she couldn’t save? Left behind in the aftermath of failed missions and people who didn’t make it?

Lucy swallowed hard and forced herself to lie down, staring at the ceiling. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, not with guilt and regret curling tightly around her chest. She hated the way she’d snapped at Mia. Hated the fact that part of her still thought it was justified.

Her hand drifted to the phone on her bedside table. Kade’s contact stared back at her, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. She wanted to believe she was doing the right thing, taking the risks others wouldn’t. But for what? Approval from a man like Malcolm Kade? A case she wasn’t even sure she could solve?

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before she set it down, closing her eyes.

“Get it together, Chen,” she whispered to herself.

Tomorrow would be a new day, another chance to make things right—or break them further.

Chapter Text

“I always knew you’d be something special.”

His voice, deep and familiar, resonated through the air, threading into her soul like a song she had almost forgotten. Lucy froze, her heart catching in her chest. Oh, his voice—how she missed it.

It had been years since she’d seen him, yet here he was. It didn’t feel like a dream, or even a memory. It felt real. But unlike the crushing pain she usually associated with him, there was something different now—a sense of peace washing over her.

The world around her was soft and golden, like the turning of a fresh page in a well-loved book. The spring sun hung low in the sky, its warm light dancing across the landscape. Everything felt simple, effortless, like sliding into new bedsheets just before sleep takes over.

Lucy smiled—a grin wider than she remembered ever having. She glanced down, her chest warm and light, unable to contain the pure comfort bubbling up inside her. Looking back up, her breath caught.

His brown eyes, full of life. His wide smile, unchanged. His curly hair, tousled and perfect, just as she remembered.

“Jackson,” she whispered, the name leaving her lips like a prayer.

Her head spun as emotions swirled within her. It was him. Somehow, impossibly, it was him. She wanted to hold on to this moment, to freeze time, to let it last forever.

“It’s okay,” Jackson said, his voice low and soothing.

He reached out, his hand extending toward her. But when she moved to take it, the specks of dust that made him whole dissipated. She turned, searching for him, but all she found was emptiness. The warmth drained away, leaving a hollow ache in its place.

“Jackson?” she called, spinning around, frantic now.

Then she saw him—far off in the distance, just a faint silhouette.

Her hand moved instinctively toward him, drawn by some invisible thread. Light bathed the space between them, so bright it almost blinded her.

“Jackson,” she called again, her voice trembling.

She ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, desperate to close the impossible gap between them.

“Lucy.” his voice echoed, distant yet achingly familiar.

Her legs pumped harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps, but no matter how fast she ran, the distance between them never seemed to shrink. He was always just out of reach, further and further away.

She ran until her legs burned, until her lungs felt like they would burst. But still, he remained elusive, a shadow on the horizon.

Finally, her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the ground, chest heaving. The earth beneath her felt cold, lifeless. She pressed her hands against the dirt, but it offered no comfort.

“Lucy.” his voice came again, soft but insistent, like a mocking whisper in the wind.

Tears streamed down her face as she lifted her head, shielding her eyes from the relentless light. It was everywhere now, harsh and blinding.

But there was no sun.

“Lucy!”

The word came again, sharp and urgent, jolting her out of her daze. Suddenly, the light was gone. The dirt beneath her vanished. The cold emptiness gave way to something far more tangible—a motel room.

Her blanket was yanked off her, and Lucy woke with a gasp, her heart pounding so violently it felt like it might break free from her chest. She blinked, disoriented, her vision swimming in the dim light of the room.

Her breaths came fast and shallow as she clutched at her chest, trying to ground herself. The suffocating weight from her dream lingered, pressing down on her like a vice.

Was it real?

Looking up, Lucy saw Mia standing at the edge of the bed, her usual frustrated expression flickered into concern for the briefest moment before hardening again. The older woman crossed her arms, her gaze sharp as she waited for an explanation. “You’re late. We agreed on 7 a.m. sharp,” Mia said, her irritation barely masking the worry that lingered beneath.

Lucy ran a hand through her dishevelled hair, avoiding Mia’s eyes. “Yeah, uh—sorry. My alarm must’ve… not gone off,” she muttered, her voice hoarse and unconvincing.

Before Mia could reply, Lucy waved her off dismissively. “I’ll be out in a second.” She wobbled off the bed, unsteady on her feet, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Mia alone in the cramped motel room.

Mia sighed, her frustration momentarily overtaken by unease as she scanned the room. Empty bottles lined the counter like trophies, their numbers growing each time she came by. The stale air was thick with regret and something else she couldn’t quite place—something raw, unravelling.

The meeting with Malcolm Kade had gone better than expected, at least initially. Lucy, against all odds, had played it smart. She’d worn a wire, agreed to backup, and avoided the reckless decisions Mia had come to expect. For a moment, they had thought they were finally getting somewhere.

But that moment passed quickly. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Malcolm didn’t call. He didn’t text. He vanished as if he had never existed, leaving the team with no leads and no progress. They had tried pursuing another meeting, but his number was disconnected, and the doors to his world slammed shut.

Mia’s most recent meeting with Garza and Stensen had been a nightmare. With nothing to show for the three months spent on the operation, Garza had threatened to shut the whole thing down. Again.

“We just need a little more time,” Mia had pleaded, her voice steady despite the weight pressing down on her. And every time, Garza—begrudgingly—agreed.

But the rest of the team grew frantic, Elliot and Alex had spent nights tailing leads Lucy and Mia fought to find, yet nothing came up.

Every corner turned led to nothing but disappointment, something Lucy knew all too well.

She could feel the scrutinizing gaze of her teammates after each dead-end, her mind spinning with guilt and worry from sunrise to sunset.

It was the exact opposite she usually felt whilst being undercover, her mind normally at ease whilst being someone else was now purged with failures from the past and future.

The only thing comforting her was the burning sensation of expensive liquids down her throat, the burn helped take the edge off, something she didn’t know could be indulged whilst undercover.

But as she spent weeks making a vast and slightly worrying collection the others grew into their own frantic habits, such as compulsively cooking or cleaning, just as she had decided to deal with the problem at hand, so did they.

Even as two months passed since the start of the op, they weren’t exactly all too friendly. Alex seemed to have calmed down for the moment and tolerated Lucy enough to decipher any information received.

Today was no exception, they were extracting information today. Well at least that’s all they told her.

“Look who finally decided to wake up.”

Lucy shot him a look before taking a sip of her coffee. Today was not the day to get kicked out for foul play.

They had told her nothing except to wear something she didn’t mind getting dirty. Assuming they’d finally be doing some real work, she threw on a simple black moisture-wicking shirt—one Mia had tossed onto her bed before rushing out—and a pair of standard L.A.P.D. sweats. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and a large backpack hung from her shoulders, handed to her the moment she arrived at the rundown warehouse.

The sun was relentless, climbing higher with each passing hour, yet the warmth on her skin felt eerily familiar. A strange tingle ran through her fingers. Her breath hitched.

She knew this feeling.

In the past, she would have smiled, called it Jackson’s spirit racing through worlds to reach her. But after last night’s dream—after seeing him so vividly, so alive—she couldn’t pretend anymore. She had seen him die, as if she’d been there, frozen in place, unable to stop it.

Shaking the thoughts away, she quickened her pace, catching up to the rest of the team ahead.

He’s gone. Don’t let it distract you.

“Alright, here’s the plan.” Mia’s voice cut through the air as she dropped her bag onto a battered table. “We have exactly twelve hours before a shipment arrives at the docks. We still don’t have Kade’s location, or solid leads on his gang, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

A few confused glances were exchanged, but no one spoke.

“What we need,” she continued, pulling out a kit and spreading gloves and flashlights across the table, “is to find out where they operate. Because once we find their stash, we find—”

“Malcolm.” Lucy finished, her mind buzzing with questions.

Mia shot her a sharp look. “Yes. As Chen so helpfully pointed out.”

Alex snickered, and Lucy swatted his arm.

Elliot, eyeing a suspicious puddle of water near his shoes, frowned. “Okay, but why here?”

“Because,” Mia said, snapping on a pair of gloves, “this was their last known base of operations. And I’m betting they left behind more than just a mess when this place got overrun.” She pulled on an extra jacket, the warehouse offering no protection from the chill.

Alex raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly did you find that out?”

Mia shrugged as she zipped up her bag. “One of my C.I.s picked something up.”

Lucy glanced around the warehouse. The place reeked of damp wood and stale air, the walls covered in peeling paint and remnants of old graffiti. Rusted metal beams stretched across the ceiling, and the floor was littered with discarded crates, torn-up pallets, and god knows what else.

She adjusted the straps of her backpack. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Anything that gives us a clue about their stash spots,” Mia said, flicking on a flashlight. “Old ledgers, burner phones, coded messages—hell, even a receipt could help.”

Alex cracked his knuckles. “Sounds like a scavenger hunt. Fun.”

Elliot scoffed. “Yeah, except the people we’re hunting wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in us if they knew we were here.”

Mia nodded toward the far end of the warehouse. “Split up. Alex, take the office space upstairs. Elliot, check the storage room in the back. Lucy, you’re with me—we’ll go through whatever’s left on the main floor.”

Alex saluted lazily. “Yes, ma’am.” He took the stairs two at a time, the metal creaking beneath his weight.

Elliot muttered something under his breath before disappearing into the shadows of the back room.

Lucy exhaled, rolling her shoulders. She didn’t know what she expected to find, but the sooner they were done, the better.

Mia handed her a pair of gloves. “Start with those crates. See if anything’s been stashed inside.”

Lucy pulled the gloves on and crouched near a stack of wooden crates. Most were empty, but the deeper she dug, the more unsettling the scene became. A few had been broken open, splintered along the edges, and others had deep grooves in the wood—like someone had been in a hurry to tear through them.

A few more busted open and all she found were cobwebs and dust. Fortunately, there were a lot to get through leaving them with hours of breaking down the warehouse to its very bones.

Hours passed but nothing noticeable stood out other than a faint memory, one where she was still Tim’s boot searching the apartment for drugs yet he handed her the worst of it, leaving her to find multiple used sex toys and an unholy amount of pornography. She remembers that memory vividly, it was a crucial part of her training to cover each area and to leave no stone unturned. While it was disgusting she couldn’t help but use his methods, finding another stash of crates hidden behind a dumpster unit.

She pried open a half-crushed box and found scattered papers inside. Some were faded receipts, others looked like order forms. But one stood out—a crumpled sheet with a list of numbers and letters scrawled hastily across it.

“Hey,” she called over her shoulder. “I think I’ve got something.”

Mia turned, kneeling beside her as she took the paper from Lucy’s hands. Her eyes scanned the writing, her brow furrowing.

“This looks like—”

A loud crash echoed from the storage room.

Lucy and Mia snapped their heads toward the sound. A second later, Elliot’s voice rang out, low but urgent.

“Uh, guys?”

Lucy was already moving before he finished speaking. She reached the doorway just as Elliot stumbled back, his flashlight beam shaking as it illuminated a slumped figure against the far wall.

A man.

Unconscious—at least, she hoped.

His clothes were tattered, his face bruised and swollen. Dried blood crusted along his temple.

Mia swore under her breath. “Well. That’s unexpected.”

Alex jogged over from the stairs, taking one look before letting out a low whistle. “You think he’s one of Kade’s guys?”

Lucy took a step closer, her stomach twisting. “Or someone Kade didn’t want talking.”

The man let out a weak groan.

Mia exchanged a glance with Lucy before stepping forward. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

Chapter Text

Lucy’s heart pounded as she stepped closer, her instincts screaming at her to be careful. The man barely clung to consciousness, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. His left eye was swollen shut, dried blood trailing from a split in his brow down to his jaw.

“Elliot, check his pulse,” Mia ordered, her voice sharper than usual.

Elliot hesitated before kneeling beside the man, two fingers pressing against his neck. “It’s weak, but he’s alive.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. This wasn’t just some random guy who got unlucky—whoever left him here wanted him to suffer. Kade’s gang had a reputation for being brutal, but this? Leaving a man to rot in an abandoned warehouse? That wasn’t their usual style.

Something wasn’t adding up.

“Look at his hands,” she muttered.

Mia crouched next to her, eyes flickering over the man’s fingers. His knuckles were bruised, but that wasn’t what caught Lucy’s attention. His wrists—raw and red, the skin rubbed nearly raw—told a different story.

“He was tied up,” Mia said grimly. “Recently.”

Alex crossed his arms. “So, what? Kade’s people had him here, left in a hurry, and didn’t bother finishing the job?”

Lucy wasn’t convinced. “Or someone else got to him first.”

A groan pulled their attention back to the man. His eyelids fluttered, a pained grunt escaping his lips. His entire body trembled as he tried—and failed—to push himself up.

Lucy moved on instinct, gripping his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey, take it easy.”

His breathing hitched. His good eye cracked open just enough to reveal a sliver of hazel beneath the swelling.

For a moment, Lucy thought he was looking through her. Then, just as quickly, clarity sharpened in his gaze, his lips parting as he rasped—

“H-help. They’re after me-“

“Who?” Alex demanded, his voice steady as Lucy and Elliot helped with the more serious injuries.

Mia didn’t wait, “Was it Kade? Are they looking for something?”

The guy sputtered out a few incoherent, “Rus-.” His breaths heavier, “Lookin’ for Russo-“

Blood splattered across the rusted storage unit walls, hot and fresh. The man's body jerked once before going still, his last breath escaping in a soft, wet gurgle.

Lucy barely had time to process before Alex shoved her down.

"Sniper!"

Another shot cracked through the air, ricocheting off the metal wall just inches from Elliot's head.

"Move!" Mia barked, already yanking the dead weight off them as she scanned the high windows and catwalks.

Lucy scrambled backward, heart slamming against her ribs. Her hands were still slick with the man's blood.

‘Russo.’ He couldn’t have been clearer. It was now all clicking, the disappearing act, the mysteries, dead-end leads. He was looking for her, for Elizabeth.

The shot had been clean. Precise.

Whoever took him out hadn't missed. They just hadn’t been aiming for her.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Elliot hissed, ducking as another round shattered an overhead light, raining glass onto the concrete floor.

"They're not shooting to kill us," Alex muttered, pressing his back against a crate. "They just wanted him dead."

Lucy gritted her teeth. That meant two things—

One, someone had been watching them long before they even knew this guy was here.

And two—

"They didn’t want him talking," Mia finished, jaw tight.

A heavy silence settled between them.

The warehouse lights cut out, leaving the darkness to swallow them whole.

Lucy’s stomach turned cold. "Go!" Mia ordered.

And just like that, they ran.

“If they were only here for him then why the fuck did they turn the lights off?” Alex shouted as they ran for the nearest exit. It was a long stretch of concrete since the warehouse was bigger than your average drug dealer's hang-out.

Lucy’s heart pounded as she ran for her life, dodging machinery as the rest of the team weaved their way across. All of a sudden bullets started raining down from above, leaving them to lunge to safety. Alex dived into Elliot, pulling him behind a rather large conveyor belt.

Mia grabbed Lucy’s elbow as she yanked the younger woman behind an overturned table, providing much less coverage than the boys.

“What now?” Lucy breathed through her nose, her chest beating fast as she reached for her pistol, clicking the safety off.

Mia peeked over the edge of the overturned table, eyes scanning the catwalks. The muzzle flashes from above were brief but relentless, sparking like firecrackers in the darkness. Whoever was up there was unloading clips like they had nothing to lose.

“We’re sitting ducks here,” Mia muttered. “They’ve got the high ground, better cover, and more ammo. We stay, we’re dead.”

Lucy wiped the sweat from her brow, forcing herself to focus. “Then we don’t stay.”

Mia gave her a sharp look, but there was no time to argue. Another round of bullets ripped into the floor just inches from their cover.

“Alright,” Mia exhaled. “We make a break for the loading docks. If we can get to the back, we’ll have better cover between the storage units.”

Lucy nodded, gripping her gun tighter. The boys were still pinned down, and the sniper hadn’t let up. They had to move fast.

Mia took a deep breath.

She pushed the table up with all her strength, sending it toppling forward.

BANG!

Gunfire tore through the wood as Mia grabbed Lucy’s arm, yanking her up. “Run!”

Lucy bolted.

Her boots pounded against the concrete as she sprinted toward the loading dock, Mia right on her heels. Across the warehouse, Alex and Elliot had the same idea, ducking low as they zigzagged through the wreckage.

More bullets whizzed past.

One clipped a rusted pipe, sending steam hissing into the air. Another struck a hanging chain, making it whip wildly.

The thick air made it impossible to move together so they split up, Elliot and Mia taking the left as Alex and Lucy went right.

They were almost there. Almost—

She could’ve sworn her shoes were all tied up, either that or she had just tripped over something, delaying her exit by a long shot as she watched Alex make it out.

Before she could even get up a dark figure stepped into her path.

Gun raised.

Finger on the trigger.

Lucy skidded back, dragging herself further away as her heart slammed against her ribs.

A voice, low and calm, cut through the chaos.

“Going somewhere?”

Lucy’s breath hitched. The words slithered through the thick, stifling air, colder than the barrel pointed at her.

Her fingers scrambled against the grimy floor, searching for anything—anything—to use, but all she found was the pounding of her pulse in her ears. The dark figure took a slow, measured step forward, boots clicking against the concrete.

"Not so fast."

Her eyes darted past them, toward the exit where Alex had disappeared. He wouldn’t leave her—he wouldn’t. Any second now, he’d come barreling back through the door, yelling her name.

But the second stretched into two. Then three.

The figure crouched, head tilting slightly. “No last words?”

Lucy's jaw clenched. Fear clawed at her throat, but she forced it down. If she was going down, she wasn’t going down silent.

"Yeah," she breathed, curling her fingers around a loose piece of debris. "Go to hell."

She swung.

The three of them burst out into the loading dock, lungs burning, feet pounding against the cracked pavement. Alex nearly tripped over a pile of debris, catching himself against a damp brick wall. Steam curled from the broken pipes behind them, the air thick with the stench of rust and oil. Not to mention the barely visible path ahead of them, the stars littering the sky hardly offering any light.

Mia doubled over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Elliot leaned against the wall, his fingers twitching at his sides, his adrenaline still too high to let him stand still.

They made it. Barely.

The realization settled over them like a cold weight.

Elliot straightened first. His head snapped up, scanning the darkened alley. Then Mia. Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. Both turned to Alex at the same time.

“Where’s Lucy?” Mia demanded.

Alex’s stomach dropped.

“What?”

Elliot pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Where is she, Alex?”

“I—” His throat tightened. His mind scrambled for an answer that wasn’t there. She had been right behind him. He swore she was. He could still hear her footsteps, could still feel her presence just at his back.

But she wasn’t here.

His fingers curled into fists.

“She was—” His voice faltered. No. No, no, no.

Mia’s expression darkened, a storm brewing in her eyes.

Elliot’s face was pale, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

“We have to go back.”

Alex barely registered Elliot’s words before Mia was already turning back toward the entrance, her expression hard with determination.

“No,” Alex blurted out, reaching for her wrist. “Wait.”

Mia yanked herself free. “We don’t have time to wait, Alex! She’s still in there!”

Elliot was already moving, pushing past them both, but Alex grabbed his shoulder. “Think for a second!” he snapped. “We barely made it out the first time. You think running back in blind is gonna help?”

Elliot’s jaw tightened. “So what, we just leave her?”

“No.” The word felt like glass on Alex’s tongue. “But if we rush in without a plan, we’ll get ourselves killed—and that won’t help Lucy.”

For a moment, none of them spoke. Only the distant sound of sirens filled the heavy silence.

Mia clenched her fists. “Then what do we do?”

Alex swallowed. His mind was racing, searching for something, anything—but all he could think about was the look on Lucy’s face before they got separated.

She was counting on them.

He exhaled sharply, looking between them.

“We go back. But smart. We don’t walk into a death trap.”

Elliot gave a sharp nod. “Then let’s move.”

The alley swallowed them up again, shadows stretching long as they retraced their steps. Every second that passed sent ice through Alex’s veins, the thought of Lucy—alone, trapped—gnawing at his insides.

Mia led the way, her movements sharp and determined, but Alex could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she kept clenching and unclenching her fists. Elliot was silent, but his grip on the knife at his side was white-knuckled.

The entrance loomed ahead, steam still hissing from the broken pipes. The door hung open, darkness yawning behind it.

Alex hesitated for half a second before pushing forward. They stepped inside, the air thick and suffocating. Their footsteps were near silent against the grimy floor, their senses on high alert.

Then—

A sound.

A voice. Low, calm.

"Go to hell."

They froze.

Alex felt his stomach lurch. He knew that voice.

Lucy.

Elliot moved first, darting ahead before either of them could stop him. Alex and Mia followed, feet barely touching the ground as they ran toward the sound.

They turned a corner—

And there she was.

Lucy was on the ground, back pressed against the cold floor, her fingers curled around a piece of debris. A dark figure stood over her, gun raised.

Lucy didn’t think.

Didn’t hesitate.

With a sharp inhale, she gripped the debris in her hand and swung.

It connected with a sickening crack against the side of the man’s head.

The force stunned him—just for a second—but that was all she needed. She shoved herself forward, using her momentum to drive her knee into his ribs. He staggered, but Lucy didn’t let up. She ducked low, sweeping his legs out from under him, and as he hit the ground, she was already moving, bringing the debris down against his head one last time.

He went still.

The room was silent.

Elliot, Alex, and Mia stared, frozen in place, eyes wide with shock.

Lucy stood over the unconscious man, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, fingers still curled tightly around the jagged edge of the debris.

"Lucy—" Elliot started, stepping toward her.

Then a gunshot rang out.

A sharp, echoing crack.

The man on the ground jerked violently before going completely limp, a fresh hole in his abdomen.

They all whipped around.

And that’s when it hit them.

They were never alone.

Alex’s breath caught in his throat. Someone—somewhere—had just tried executing their own men without a second thought.

Elliot cursed under his breath. “Another Sniper. Again?”

Lucy clenched her jaw, her heart hammering against her ribs. The shot had been precise. Clean. Whoever fired it had been waiting, watching. And now, they had no idea if they were next.

“We need to move, Now. Grab him.” Mia said sharply, already stepping forward.

Elliot and Alex grabbed the deadweight of the man’s body, hauling him up with urgency. They didn’t know who he was or why someone had wanted him dead, but one thing was clear—whoever was out there had no more use for him.

Which meant they were probably next.

Lucy and Mia took position behind them, covering their backs as they moved through the warehouse.

The air was thick with tension. Every shadow felt like a threat. Every second felt like a countdown.

Another shot rang out—this time missing by inches.

Lucy’s grip tightened on her makeshift weapon. "Go, go, go!" she yelled.

Elliot and Alex dragged the body toward the exit, while Lucy and Mia covered them, keeping their heads low, dodging between cover.

The sniper wasn’t playing games. They were being herded.

The tires screeched against the cracked pavement as they sped away from the warehouse, the city lights fading behind them. No one spoke. The only sounds were the sharp, uneven breaths filling the car and the distant echo of gunfire still ringing in their ears.

Elliot gripped the wheel, knuckles white, his eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror. Mia sat in the passenger seat, tense, her knee bouncing anxiously. Alex and Lucy were crammed in the back with the unconscious man slumped between them, his dead weight pressing against Alex’s side. Lucy kept packing bundles of whatever leftover gauze they had in the back, his bleeding slowly under control.

They weren’t going back to the motel. That was the first thing Mia had said the second they got in the car. It wasn’t safe anymore. Whoever had been watching them, whoever had pulled that trigger—they weren’t done.

Instead, Mia had given Elliot a new set of directions.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled onto a dirt road, overgrown with weeds and lined with gnarled trees. The headlights illuminated the twisted branches, casting eerie shadows against the fog rolling in from the hills. At the end of the road stood a run-down cabin, its wooden frame warped with age, the windows dark and lifeless.

Mia unbuckled her seatbelt. "Get him inside," she ordered, already stepping out.

Elliot and Alex wasted no time, hoisting the unconscious man up between them. Lucy trailed behind, scanning the treetops, still shaken by the unseen sniper.

As soon as they stepped inside, Mia shut the door behind them, locking it tight. Dust floated in the dim light as she flicked on an old lamp, revealing the cabin’s worn interior. There was nothing but a few mismatched chairs, a battered couch, and a table covered in dust. A single hallway led to the back rooms.

"This place yours?" Elliot asked, adjusting his grip on the man’s arm.

Mia nodded. "Only for emergencies."

Alex let out a breath, shaking his head. "Couldn’t spring for the four seasons?"

Mia gave him a short glare before clearing the dusty table, letting them drop the man onto the table, his body limp. Alex pressed two fingers to his neck. “Still alive.”

Lucy exhaled, but relief was short-lived. “For now,” she muttered. “Whoever shot at us didn’t miss by accident. They didn’t care about him after we took him down. That means—”

“They wanted him dead no matter what,” Mia finished grimly.

Lucy remembered his dark gloomy face looking down at her as he held a gun to her face, ready to shoot without a second to spare. Whatever remorse she was feeling for him quickly dissipated.

Elliot paced toward the window, peeking through the cracked blinds. "So that means we still don’t know who the hell he is—or who the hell wants us dead for taking him."

Silence settled over them like a heavy weight.

Then, the man groaned.

Their heads snapped toward him as he stirred, his fingers twitching.

Lucy reached for her gun, jaw tight. Prepared to fire if things got ugly.

And with her luck? It most definitely will.

His wound were still packed yet the four of them did nothing further to save his life as he lied groaning on the hard table. Alex stood forward, his face coming into light as the guy on the table finally awoke.

His eyes twitching, sensitive to the sudden light, as he tried to sit up he found himself tied down, both arms tied to the end of the table.

“So, you gonna tell us why you decided to shoot as us?” Alex started, watching the man struggle to lift his hands, an attempt to probably strangle the life out of the smug bastard in front of him.

“Rot in hell.” He muttered, letting out a loud groan as his movements made his injury worse.

“Look, I’m going to be honest, I have all the time in the world, you on the other hand have until you bleed out.” Alex tempted the man yet he held strong onto his will, closing his eyes as he worked up a sweat.

“I don’t care. You have nothing on me, you don’t know shit.” Elliot stepped up, turning his laptop around. “Your name is Callum Sarone, age 36, married to Kathy Maldow Sarone, you have two kids, one named Jack, and you’re little girl, Katherine.” A picture of his family on full display.

Closing his laptop his swung a chair around, sitting real close to their perp. “Your mother? Nancy Ilyina, divorced your dad 7 years ago- Peter Ivor, son of a famously known Russian gang- dismembered 5 years ago. Your children go to Brookwoods State funded school, North of Lakewood. Your wife recently took out a rather large loan to pay off some debt you collected in Vegas, gambling problems much? Anyways- want me to continue?”

Callum clenched his jaw, his breathing heavy, sweat rolling down his temple. His fingers twitched against the restraints, but there was nothing he could do except glare at Elliot. His eyes burned with hatred, but beneath it—buried deep—was a flicker of fear.

“Go. To. hell,” He spat, the hatred in his voice amplifying.

Alex smirked, leaning closer, pressing a palm down on the wound still packed but seeping through the bandages. Callum choked on a strangled groan, his body arching against the pain.

"See, Callum," Alex drawled, his voice almost amused, "I don’t think you get it yet. We already know everything. You? You’re just a dead man buying time."

Elliot leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "So the real question is… how do you wanna go out? Quickly, with some dignity? Or slow, real slow, while we pick apart every little thing you love?"

Callum’s jaw tightened, but his silence spoke volumes.

Alex sighed dramatically. "Alright then. El?"

Elliot cracked his knuckles before flipping his laptop open again. "Let’s start with your wife, yeah? Kathy. Works long shifts, right? Bet she thinks she’s keeping your family afloat while you piss it all away at poker tables. Wonder what she’d say if she found out exactly why you’re in this mess?"

Callum yanked at his restraints, his breath coming short and sharp. “You stay away from her.”

Alex chuckled, dark and amused. “Oh? So now you care?”

Callum’s nostrils flared, his body tense with anger and pain. “I swear to god—”

Elliot interrupted with a scoff. “You’re not exactly in a position to make threats, Callum.” He turned the laptop around again. A picture filled the screen—Kathy, Jack, and little Katherine, smiling in what looked like a birthday photo. "That’s a nice family you got there. Be a shame if something happened to them."

Callum’s breathing turned ragged. His fingers curled into fists.

Alex tilted his head, watching the fight drain from the man’s eyes, replaced by something much more valuable—desperation.

“Tick-tock, Callum," Alex murmured. "Start talking.”

A sharp click of heels echoed in the dimly lit room.

Mia stepped forward from the shadows, her gaze cool and calculating as she stopped beside Alex. She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she studied Callum—sweat-soaked, pale, and barely holding on.

“You boys done playing?” she asked, her voice smooth but edged with impatience.

Alex smirked, stepping aside. “All yours.”

Callum’s bloodshot eyes flicked up to Mia as she pulled a chair up beside him, flipping open a sleek black switchblade. The sharp edge gleamed under the dim light as she ran her thumb along it, almost absentmindedly.

"You know," Mia started, leaning in just enough that he could smell her perfume—something faintly floral, deceptively soft—"I’ve seen men like you before. Cocky. Think they can take a beating and still hold out."

She turned the knife between her fingers, her movements slow, deliberate.

“But you’re not that guy, are you, Callum?”

Callum gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

Mia hummed, unimpressed. Then, with zero warning, she slammed the tip of her knife into the table—just inches from his hand. The sharp crack of steel against wood made him flinch.

"See, that’s where you’re wrong," she murmured. "I know you better than you think. I know you’re a gambler, a liar, a coward. I know you’re the kind of man who makes stupid bets and drags his family down with him."

Callum's breathing hitched, but Mia wasn’t done. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping just enough to make the hairs on his neck rise.

"And most of all, Callum, I know that when it comes down to it... you’ll break."

She lifted the knife, letting the blade run lightly over the inside of his wrist—not cutting, not yet, just enough to make his skin prickle with the threat.

"Question is, do you want to do this the easy way?" She pressed down just a fraction harder. "Or the way that ends with you begging me to stop?"

Callum swallowed hard, his pulse hammering against the cold steel.

"Stop."

A voice cut through the tension.

All eyes turned to Lucy, her arms were stiff at her sides, but her face was calm, unreadable. Her boots barely making a sound against the concrete floor.

“You want something, but so do we. How about we call it a truce… a deal even.”

Mia didn’t move, the knife still hovering over Callum’s wrist. Alex, however, scoffed.

"You can't be serious," he muttered, his jaw tightening. "This is the same guy who shoved a gun against your head, Lucy. You really want to make a deal with him?"

Lucy met his eyes, steady and unwavering. "Yes."

Alex exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, turning away like he needed to physically stop himself from losing it.

Mia finally lifted the knife, leaning back. "You better have a damn good reason," she mused, though she didn’t seem too surprised.

Lucy turned her gaze back to Callum. He was breathing hard, his fingers twitching, his body still tense from the pain—but it wasn’t just pain. She saw it now, the thing buried beneath all the defiance and bravado. Fear.

Not for himself.

For them. His family.

His wife. His kids.

That was what mattered to him. Not his own survival, not even the blood seeping through his bandages—but making sure they were safe.

Lucy exhaled, stepping closer, dropping her voice. "You don’t need to die here, Callum."

His bloodshot eyes flickered with something uncertain.

"You need money. You need your wife and kids to be safe. That’s why you’re in this mess, isn’t it?"

Callum’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it.

Lucy crouched beside him, meeting his gaze. "I can give you that."

He blinked, as if he hadn’t heard her right.

"You give us what we need," she said, slow and deliberate. "In return, you walk out of here alive. You go back to your family. With money. Enough to start over. No more debts. No more gambling. Just a clean slate."

Alex made a noise of disbelief behind her. "You think this guy deserves a fresh start?"

Lucy didn’t take her eyes off Callum. "I think he deserves a choice."

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Callum’s breathing was ragged, his fingers curling and uncurling against the restraints.

Finally, his shoulders slumped.

“…What do you need?” he rasped.

Lucy exhaled, standing up. "Names. Connections. Everything you know."

Callum’s head fell back against the table, his body going limp. He closed his eyes for a moment—then slowly, he nodded.

Mia smirked, flipping her knife shut. "Well, would you look at that." The chair groaned as she pulled it back, “Good job Chen.”

Alex shook his head, still fuming, but he didn’t argue.

Lucy stepped back. "Untie him."

Mia did the honours, slicing through the restraints. Callum barely had the strength to sit up, but when he looked at Lucy, there was something different in his gaze.

Not gratitude- but something more real… raw, his sincerity in all this.