The station buzzed with frantic energy. Officers were running between desks, phones ringing non-stop, and papers being shuffled in a mad scramble for answers. It felt like the world was on the edge of an abyss, and Kira couldn't shake the feeling that they were still missing something vital. Reed's words from earlier had planted a seed of dread in her mind—Who's next?
Hayes was already briefing the team in the main operations room, the walls covered in crime scene photos, maps, and a timeline of events. Kira stood by the door, scanning the room, trying to piece together any fragments that might give them a clue. The sense of urgency weighed heavily on her. Reed was about to spring his final trap, and if they didn't figure it out in time, someone was going to die.
Wallace, sitting at a nearby desk, was elbow-deep in research, scrolling through files on Reed's known associates. "I'm combing through every contact he's had in the last five years," he muttered, frustration clear in his voice. "We're bound to find something, but it's like he knew we'd be doing this—his tracks are clean."
Kira sighed and leaned over Wallace's shoulder. "Reed doesn't leave things to chance. If we're not finding anything, it's because he's already covered it up."
Hayes strode over, the tension visible in their posture. "Alright, listen up. We've got word from forensics—the shooter from the warehouse didn't leave us much, but they managed to pull a single print from one of the bullets. Matches a hitman, Luis Vega. He's worked for some dangerous people."
"Any connection to Reed?" Kira asked, her mind already trying to connect the dots.
"Not directly, but Vega's known for his discretion. Someone with Reed's influence could easily hire him without leaving a trace."
"So Reed didn't send Vega to kill us. He sent him to slow us down," Wallace said, standing up. "But for what? If Vega's just a pawn, then what's the real play?"
Kira felt the pieces starting to align in her head, though the picture was still incomplete. Reed was ahead of them, and every second wasted was giving him more power. They needed to think like him—predict his next move.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. One of the junior officers poked his head in, holding a folder. "Detective Hayes, we just got a call. It's from an anonymous tipster—they claim to know who the next target is."
Kira and Hayes exchanged a glance, both moving toward the officer. "What's in the file?" Kira asked, her pulse quickening.
The officer handed it over. "It's the address of a club downtown, called The Silver Veil. The caller said the target's meeting someone there tonight."
Hayes opened the file, scanning the sparse details. "And they didn't say who the target is?"
"No. Just that they'll be there around midnight," the officer replied.
Kira's stomach twisted. The Silver Veil was known for its exclusivity, a high-end club where powerful people mingled in private rooms. If Reed's next move was happening there, it meant they were running out of time. Midnight was only a few hours away.
"This could be our break," Hayes said, already moving to gather the team. "Get the gear, and let's move. We don't know what we're walking into, but we need to be ready."
Kira nodded, adrenaline spiking in her veins. "Let's go. Reed won't see us coming."
The Silver Veil was alive with flashing neon lights and the pulsing thump of heavy bass. Outside, a line of luxury cars and a velvet rope marked the entrance, where bouncers scrutinized everyone coming in. The crowd was a mix of high-end clientele—celebrities, business moguls, and socialites, all wrapped in the hazy allure of expensive alcohol and darker secrets.
Kira, Hayes, and Wallace slipped through the back entrance, avoiding the main floor. The team moved with precision, splitting up to cover different parts of the club. They knew the drill—find the target, secure them, and uncover what Reed was planning.
Kira made her way up the narrow staircase leading to the VIP rooms. The hallway was dimly lit, the thump of the music muted behind thick walls. It smelled of cigar smoke and expensive perfume, and her heart raced as she approached the first door.
She raised her hand to knock, but something held her back. What if this was part of Reed's trap? The thought gripped her. He had already proven how dangerous he could be. What if he was leading them straight into another dead end?
Shaking off the doubt, Kira knocked softly. The door creaked open, revealing a plush room lit by soft candlelight. The scene inside was unsettling—two women in silk robes lounging on a velvet couch, while a man in a tailored suit sat in an armchair, swirling a glass of whiskey. His face was flushed, and he didn't seem to notice her at first.
But when he did, his eyes went wide. "What the—who are you?"
Kira stepped inside, her gun discreetly at her side. "I'm Detective Kira Hayes. We need to have a chat."
The man's gaze flicked between Kira and the door, calculating his odds. "I don't know what you think you're doing here, but you've got the wrong guy."
She wasn't buying it. "We have reason to believe your life is in danger. Someone hired a professional killer to slow us down—and now, you're the next target."
His bravado faltered for a split second, but then he leaned back, trying to regain his composure. "You think I don't know how to take care of myself? I'm not some helpless victim."
Kira's patience was wearing thin. "Look, you can either cooperate, or we'll drag you out of here in cuffs. Your choice."
The man smirked, leaning forward. "Do you even know who I am?"
Before Kira could respond, her earpiece crackled to life. It was Hayes. "Kira, we've got movement downstairs—someone's heading for the back exit. I think we've found our guy. Meet us outside."
She glanced at the man one last time, sizing him up. "Stay here, and don't do anything stupid."
Without waiting for a reply, Kira turned on her heel and dashed down the stairs, her pulse pounding in her ears. As she pushed through the back door into the cold night air, she spotted Hayes and Wallace already in pursuit of a shadowy figure weaving through the alley behind the club.
Kira sprinted after them, her breath coming in quick bursts. The figure ahead was fast, darting between dumpsters and over fences with practiced ease. Whoever it was, they didn't want to be caught.
But Kira was determined. She pushed harder, closing the gap with every step until she was almost within reach. Just as the figure rounded a corner, Kira lunged forward, tackling them to the ground.
The figure struggled, but Kira had the upper hand. She quickly cuffed them, breathing heavily as she yanked them to their feet. Hayes and Wallace arrived moments later, guns drawn.
"Nice work," Hayes said, eyeing the captive. "Let's see who our mystery guest is."
Kira ripped off the mask, revealing a young woman with short black hair and a cold, defiant expression.
"Who are you?" Kira demanded, her voice sharp.
The woman spat on the ground, glaring up at her. "You think you've won? You're too late."
Kira's blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
The woman smiled—a chilling, empty smile. "You'll see. Soon enough."