Maya stared through the peephole, her breath locked in her throat.
Celeste Laurent.
A name that carried authority, fear, and finality.
When Celeste arrived in person, it wasn't for a warning.
It wasn't for a discussion.
It was to ensure that things were set right.
Dressed in a raven-black coat, tailored to perfection, her presence commanded every inch of space around her. Not a single movement was wasted, not a single expression uncalculated.
Celeste was precision. Power. A force of nature given form.
Behind her stood a man in a black suit, silent, unreadable, and lethal. He wasn't a bodyguard—Celeste didn't need protection.
He was a witness. A reminder that her words were absolute.
Maya's hands clenched at her sides.
This wasn't an invitation. This was a summons.
And ignoring it?
Wasn't an option.
Three knocks.
Steady. Measured. Final.
Maya swallowed hard, turned the lock, and pulled the door open.
Celeste stepped inside without waiting.
Maya closed the door slowly, sealing her fate.
---
The air shifted immediately.
Celeste moved through the house with the grace of a ruler inspecting her domain.
She carried no wasted movement, no excess emotion. There was no anger in her steps, no irritation in her eyes.
Only control.
Maya didn't speak. Didn't move. She knew better.
Celeste let the silence linger, letting Maya drown in it.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"Do you understand the weight of my presence, Maya?"
Her voice was calm, like a blade before the plunge.
Maya exhaled slowly. "Yes."
Celeste smiled. Not in amusement. In recognition.
"Then you know why I'm here."
Maya forced herself to stand tall. "I called. I did what I was supposed to."
Celeste sighed, her disappointment barely concealed.
"No, you didn't."
She turned slightly, adjusting the sleeve of her coat, every motion precise.
Then, with a voice dipped in iron, she delivered the truth.
"Your orders were not to report, Maya."
The weight of her words pressed into the room, heavy and unyielding.
"Your orders were to kill Nash Mercer."
Maya's heartbeat thundered.
She forced her breath to stay steady. "I shot him."
Celeste's eyes remained unmoved.
Then—
SLAP.
The impact rang through the silence, sharp and brutal.
Maya's head snapped to the side.
Her skin burned, but she didn't react.
She stood still. She took it.
Because this was the price of failure.
For the briefest moment, an instinct flickered inside her—rage, defiance. A whispered thought, buried just as quickly as it surfaced. But she swallowed it down, crushing it before it could breathe.
Celeste inhaled slowly, flexing her fingers, as if deciding whether she needed to strike again.
Then, after a long moment, she spoke.
"Maya."
The softness in her voice was a deception.
A lure before the hook.
"When you execute a man like Nash Mercer, you ensure he does not return."
She let the words settle like a noose tightening around Maya's throat.
Then—
"And yet. Here we are."
Maya clenched her jaw.
Celeste studied her for a moment, then took a single step closer.
"Did you hesitate?"
Maya's blood ran cold.
Because they both knew the answer.
Celeste's expression remained unreadable, but the air in the room thickened.
"Say it, Maya."
Maya swallowed.
Her voice came out hoarse. "I hesitated."
Celeste tilted her head, something dark flickering in her gaze.
She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "That is where you and I differ, Maya."
Her tone was matter-of-fact, clinical.
"I do not hesitate. I do not allow personal feelings to corrupt duty. And most importantly—"
Her voice dipped lower, sharper.
"I do not leave threats unfinished."
The finality in her words sent a chill through Maya's bones.
Celeste stepped back, smoothing down her coat.
"Nash Mercer is not a man you fail to kill."
She gestured to the man standing silently behind her.
"He is unpredictable. Brutal. Ruthless when necessary. And unlike you, Maya, he does not hesitate."
Maya's pulse pounded violently.
Celeste turned her gaze back to her, calculating, assessing.
"That is why he is alive."
Maya swallowed hard.
Celeste let the silence stretch before delivering the final order.
"You have forty-eight hours."
Maya's breath hitched.
Celeste's smile was razor-thin. "Find him. End it. No mistakes this time."
Maya didn't blink. Didn't move.
Her entire body was a battlefield of conflicting thoughts.
Celeste studied her one last time before finally turning toward the door.
Then—she paused.
Her gaze flicked to the side.
To a framed photograph resting on the mantel.
A picture of Maya and Lily.
Maya's chest tightened.
Celeste didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
Her message was clear.
Then, just as silently as she had arrived, she was gone.
The door clicked shut.
Maya remained frozen, staring at the photograph.
Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms.
She had no choice.
Nash had to die.
And this time, there would be no hesitation.
___________________________________
The late afternoon sun spilled through the precinct windows, stretching golden light across stacks of files, half-empty coffee cups, and a whiteboard filled with names, arrows, and dead ends.
The case had been dragging, and every hour that passed brought them closer to being pulled off of it.Jack Reynolds sat at his desk, flipping through the Greg Walters case file again, even though he already knew every detail by heart. Across from him, Sarah Carter leaned back, rubbing her temples.
Jack glanced up—and instantly regretted it.
Sarah had let her hair down again.
Not on purpose, probably just a subconscious frustration response, but it made something shift in Jack's chest.
The way the sunlight caught the loose strands, the way she absentmindedly tucked a lock behind her ear while reading—
Jack clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away before she noticed.
Sarah exhaled heavily, flipping through pages. "Alright. Let's go over this again before I lose my damn mind."
Jack smirked slightly. "Haven't we already?"
Sarah gave him a look. "Don't start." She tapped the Greg Walters file. "We have missing pieces. Someone wanted him dead, but we have no clear suspect, no physical evidence, no leverage."
Jack nodded, rubbing his jaw. "We need a different approach."
Sarah leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "Okay, genius. Define 'different.'"
Jack hesitated only for a second before saying it.
"Evelyn Monroe."
Sarah blinked.
Then blinked again.
And finally, she sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. "Oh, hell."
Jack smirked. "You asked for fearless."
Sarah let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, I also asked for someone who can actually get results."
Jack leaned forward slightly, voice steady.
"That's exactly why we need her."
Sarah scoffed, shaking her head. "Jack, she doesn't answer to anyone. And worse? She likes it that way."
Jack exhaled, leaning back. "I know. But we're running out of time."
Sarah narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Jack reached into his drawer and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He slid it across the desk.
Sarah picked it up, brows furrowing.
She read it. And swore under her breath.
A reassignment order.
She looked up sharply. "They're gonna drop us?"
Jack nodded. "If we don't make progress soon, yeah."
Sarah let out a sharp breath. "Damn it."
Jack smirked slightly. "So, still against Monroe?"
Sarah gave him a long, unamused look.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
Jack shrugged. "Hey, I'm just saying. We need someone who gets results. And Evelyn Monroe?" He leaned forward. "She gets results."
Sarah leaned back, shaking her head. "This is a terrible idea."
Jack grinned. "Maybe. But it's our only shot."
Sarah sighed, running a hand through her hair—and Jack forced himself not to watch.
Because the truth?
They were running out of time.
And he wasn't sure if it was the case that worried him… or something else entirely.
Sarah exhaled. "Fine. Let's call her."
Jack nodded, standing up and reaching for his coat. "We should do it in person. Monroe isn't the kind of person who answers calls from cops."
Sarah frowned but didn't argue.
Jack grabbed the keys to his car, motioning for Sarah to follow. "Let's move before I change my mind."
They walked toward the exit, pushing through the glass doors into the cool evening air.
The city hummed around them—cars passing, pedestrians moving, life carrying on as usual.
Jack unlocked the car, pulling open the driver's side door when—
Sarah's phone buzzed.
She paused, glancing at the screen.
Unknown Number.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You gonna answer that?"
Sarah hesitated for a beat, then swiped to accept the call.
She put it on speaker. "Carter."
The voice that responded was low, distorted, unnatural.
"Walk away."
Jack and Sarah froze.
The voice continued, slow and deliberate.
"Stay away from the Greg Walters case. This is your only warning."
Sarah's fingers tightened around the phone. "Who is this?"
Silence.
Then—
Click.
The call ended.
Jack's jaw clenched. "Trace it."
Sarah was already moving, pulling up the call log. "Number's blocked."
Jack exhaled sharply, scanning the street, suddenly feeling exposed.
Sarah scoffed. "Coward move."
Jack shot her a look. "Sarah—"
She shook her head. "No. We don't back down because some bastard thinks they can scare us."
Jack's stomach twisted, unease settling deep. "That wasn't a threat. "
Sarah rolled her eyes. "So what? We're supposed to let them tell us what we can and can't investigate?" She waved her phone. "They want us scared. Screw that."
She turned on her heel, heading toward her car.
Jack's instincts screamed at him.
"Sarah, wait—"
BOOM.
The explosion rocked the parking lot, the force of it throwing Jack off his feet.
His ears rang, the world spinning as he hit the ground, asphalt scraping his palms.
Fire. Smoke. Metal twisted and burning.
Jack's breath locked in his chest. Sarah.
He pushed himself up, stumbling forward as the heat from the explosion blasted into the night air.
People were yelling. Sirens blared.
And in the center of it—where Sarah's car had been just seconds ago—
There was nothing but flames.
Jack's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Sarah!"
He didn't think—he just moved, sprinting toward the wreckage.
And then—a figure.
A shape in the chaos, silhouetted against the fire.
A hand on the ground. Fingers twitching.
Jack's stomach dropped.
Sarah.
He reached for her, fingers barely grazing her jacket before—
Another explosion ripped through the air.
And then—
Darkness.
Cut to black.