Eighteen

"One of these days, I'm going to write a book about this entire experience."

Jacob leaned against the wall adjacent to Paul's office. "You ain't gonna write shit," he said, digging into his coat pocket for a light and a cigar he had pulled out of his car, provided by Jenks a couple of weeks back. He lit the tobacco up, took a drag, and handed it to Leah.

"Fuck you," Embry retorted, but with only half the bite. After thanking Leah for the much-needed cigar, he took a puff before giving it to Jacob. "And yes, I am."

Sharing the tobacco amongst three people probably wasn't the most sanitary thing to do. Smoking within the station walls was also not the most permissible thing to do, but it was one in the morning. The trio was exhausted beyond belief. They had just witnessed a surprise ambush. They now were sitting outside of an understandably raging captain, waiting to get chewed out—Sanitary and smoking rules could fuck themselves for the time being.

"I'm sure it'll be great," Leah said, taking the cigar from her partner's hand. She took one more drag and handed it to Embry.

"Oh, it's gonna be a New Times Best Seller because shit like this hasn't been written about," Embry said. "Hasn't been made into a movie. You know what? I should make it like a tell-all. People love tell-all's, right?"

"I can't believe we're having this conversation..." Jacob mumbled, shaking his head.

Leah ignored Jacob's comment. Yes, this conversation was on the trivial side, but she needed trivial at this time. "You're going to have to omit a lot of things. Like the existence of vampires."

"I'll figure something out," Embry said, determined, "And I'll give you some of the proceeds for creative input. Jacob won't get a damn thing because he's being a dick."

Leah let out a dry chuckle.

Jacob let out a full one, only stopping when he caught sight of Jared carefully walking out of Paul's office, looking as grim as ever. It was an odd look to see on the precinct prankster. "What's up?"

Jared took a couple of steps forward and glanced behind him. Through the shades, the cops could see Paul on the phone, screaming at someone as he paced around his—he was in one of his moods. "He'll see you in a couple," he said with a gulp. "I wouldn't pull any shit if I were you."

"So, who's going to tell what the fuck just happened?"

Ultimately, Jacob took one for the team, much to Leah and Embry's, especially Embry's relief. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, we got a tip from Mike about a party happening at his place, hosted by the Cullen's and the Denali's, attended by their allies, including the Velasquez coven. It just was supposed to be a party, and we thought it would be a good opportunity to gather some intel." He took a deep breath. "We didn't think the place was gonna get bombed."

"It was more like ambushed," Leah corrected.

"But no cop died," Embry quickly added. "And there was limited CPD property damage."

"Thank you, Officer Call," Paul bit out. "But that doesn't negate the fact that there's a bombed-out lounge, fourteen dead people, fuck knows how many more injured, and I got a Chief of Police so far up my ass—"

"We didn't know," Jacob reasoned, sitting up in his chair. He was watching Paul's every move. Like a hawk, Leah thought, as if Jacob was expecting something to happen.

She glanced at Embry to see if he picked up anything. He did, of course, he didn't tell Leah something, but he definitely noticed something. He was on guard too, but unlike Jacob, he wasn't ready to act.

"If we have known, we would have—"

"It doesn't matter if you knew or not, goddamn it," Paul snapped, slamming his fist on the desk, causing everyone but Jacob to flinch on instinct. "What matters is that it happened."

Leah and Embry shared concerned looks. They didn't like where this rant was heading.

"What matters is that those fucking fucks." Paul began pacing around again, face flushed, his hands balled into tight fists. His words releasing between gritted teeth. "Thought it was a fucking good idea to shoot up a fucking lounge on a fucking Saturday night with a bunch of fucking people around and fucking—"

Jacob rose from his seat. "Paul," he growled.

Leah had no idea what was happening, but Embry did. Might have. He did have that look of understanding and concern in his eyes. It was odd, such a surreal sight to see, and Leah couldn't accurately describe it—Paul started to back off. He took a series of deep, controlled breaths. His body relaxed as he slowly turned around and walked back to his desk. He sat down, looking at the cops, apologetic—about his anger, Leah thought—ashamed, embarrassed.

Jacob sat back down as well and acted as if nothing had happened. Embry relaxed, smiling to himself— Leah couldn't tell if it was real or fake or Embry's way to convince himself that everything was going fine.

"Okay," Paul started, folded his hands on his desk. He took enough deep breath, seemingly and miraculously in better spirits, considering the circumstances. "Alright, let's get back to work." He clapped, ready to go. "About this ambush…"

"What happens now?" Leah asked as she followed Jacob out of the police station. It was now a quarter before two. Jacob had offered to drop Embry off at his home as well, the cop decided to stay behind to make sure Paul didn't do anything he would regret, like literally biting someone's head off.

"We rest," Jacob said, unlocking the car. He waited for Leah to enter the vehicle before doing so himself. "We have to be ready for the incoming shit storm."

"Can't wait," Leah mumbled.

"I'll pick up around six-thirty, seven," Jacob said, turning on the car. "So please make sure you take a nap, Leah."

"I know how to sleep," Leah retorted. "Thank you."

Jacob snorted. "Sure, you do."

"Yeah, whatever," Leah grumbled, crossing her arms. "Just drop me off at my mom's."

"Not yours?" Jacob asked, glancing behind him to check for any cars passing by. When the coast was cleared, he began to back out of the parking space.

"I can't sleep inside an empty apartment anymore," Leah quietly confessed. "If you don't mind."

"Yeah, no problem."

Leah gave her partner a grateful smile and relaxed into her seat as Jacob drove away. There was silence between the pair until they crossed the Chicago-Evanston border when Leah asked about Paul.

"He'll be fine," Jacob said.

"You sure?" Leah was doubtful. "I thought Paul was going to have a stroke in there."

"When he gets mad like that, he tends to phase. And that's the last thing we need right now."

Leah blinked. "Phase as in...?"

"Yep," Jacob confirmed, stopping at a red light. He then let out a dry laugh. "Shit, I haven't heard Paul drop that many f-bombs since that one day he had been forced to work in Property for two months."

"What happened?"

"Punched out a cop," Jacob said. "That racist asshole deserved it. The captain knew it, so he just had him transferred instead of suspended."

"What happened to the racist asshole?"

"Put in District 11."

Leah almost felt bad for the guy. District 11. That was one of the worst places in the city to patrol. "Ouch."

Leah arrived at her mother's house a little after three of the morning. That meant she would only have three hours to rest before heading back into Chicago and returning to work— She let out a tired sigh as she tossed her coat to the side.

The detective was determined to hit the bed in the next minute, but then a light and noise from the living caught her attention. Thinking it was probably Seth and in his insomnia-self watching late-night television, she headed to the room to announce her presence.

To her utmost surprise, she didn't find her brother. Instead, she found her mother lying across the couch; her weary eyes were glued to the television in front of her. The news was on— Breaking News. A repeat news story about Mike's.

Great.

"Don't you think it's time to go to bed?" Leah told her mom, fighting back a yawn and the desire to rub her eyes into oblivion. Her eyes felt scratchy, and she was jittery from caffeine, too much action and not enough sleep.

Sue glanced up at her daughter. "I was waiting for your phone call, just to know you're okay, especially with everything happening." She returned her attention to the screen and pointed at it. "Do you know about this?"

On the screen, the reporter walked up to a young man covered in soot with a beer in his hand. He looked shell-shocked. A witness, Leah concluded as her focus shifted to around the vocal duo. Debris, there was so much debris. So many cops. So many EMTs and media. And curious bystanders.

This did not bode well for her next workday.

"Yeah," Leah quietly admitted, though she wouldn't go beyond that. She turned around and began to head up the stairs, adjacent to the living room. "I'm heading to bed. Got a long day ahead of me."

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, mom."

"How's Sam?"

Leah stopped. "Won't hear from him for another week, but I know he's not dead."

"Comforting," she heard her mother mumble.

"Good morning, this is Lisa Melendez for Channel Five, reporting from… where just hours ago... Mike's Lounge, a popular nightclub, and lounge... by what authorities have described as illegal fireworks. The Police and Fire Departments..."

"Fireworks." Jared Cameron scoffed the following morning while he, along with the rest of the task force, watched the morning news coverage of the ambush. "I can't believe they brought that excuse."

"How much do you think they were paid off?" another cop asked.

"What difference does it make?" Paul grumbled with his arms tightly crossed. He seemed to shake his head at every person Lisa spoke to. "This is a goddamn P.R. disaster. Makes us look fucking incompetent."

"In our defense, Captain," one of Paul's underlings said as he handed his boss yet another Red Bull. "No one in their right mind thought Mike's would get ambushed."

Standing in the back of the crowd, Leah and Jacob quietly watched on as Lisa directed the cameras to the building frame that once held Mike's. They both had a cup of coffee mixed with three shots of espresso— the amount of caffeine was excessive, but it was one of those mornings. As of eight hours ago, every task force member had resigned to the fact that they would be even more sleep-deprived for at least the next few weeks.

As soon as the news coverage transferred into commercials, Leah finished her drink and pushed herself off her desk. "Come on, Black. We should head back to work. You and Embry have to visit Bella—"

"And you gotta meet up with your favorite informant."

"What do you know about last night?" Leah asked Riley as they stood under the Pink Line tracks near Little Village. Save for the distant sirens and the occasional sound of the train passing above, the area was quiet. Void of people, cars, and the usual ruckus.

"I wasn't involved," Riley finally said quietly. "I was ordered to hang around the Stockyards while a shipment came in. I heard rumblings last week, but I didn't know they were gonna bomb that place."

Leah snorted. Yeah, him and everyone else. She stopped. So, Victoria was involved, after all. She quickly wrote Riley's words down, and then, "Rumblings like what?"

"You know how my boss is..." Riley trailed off as he retrieved a can of beer from inside his leather jacket. He popped it opened and quickly downed it. Moments later, he crushed the empty can under his Converses and kicked it aside. "She's not gonna stop until everyone's dead. Or if James, somehow, comes back to life."

Leah figured that would be the case. "So, James' death had something do to the ambush?"

"Nah, I don't think so. At least, not entirely. See, a couple of days before, we got a random visit from Jane- You know that chick everyone's scared outta their minds of?"

Leah nodded. "I know of her."

"Well, she and Victoria had this long meeting about working together. Couldn't get the details but—"

"You guys are allies?"

"I wouldn't say that. I think they have some shaky truce. Sometimes we do business for them, and sometimes they do business for us..."

Leah leaned in. "Are saying that the Volturi was involved in the ambush?"

"They're still pissed off about what happened to Demetri," Riley said. "And then, you got Sasha and Vasili breaking the cardinal laws..."

"Hm," Leah said. "I'd thought the Volturi would be more discreet."

"They wanted to throw you guys off," Riley said. "Didn't do a good job, but who cares about my opinion?" He shrugged, and then, dropping to a whisper, "I visited Bree's grave. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Leah said, wishing she could have done more.

There wasn't a funeral for the fallen teenager. Her parents refused to claim her body, declaring Bree was dead the moment she had run away from home a year so before—An asshole move, in Leah's opinion, but there was nothing she could do but reach out to a nonprofit to have buried in an actual cemetery.

"It didn't have to end like this. She was a runaway. She just needed a home, and Victoria gave it to her." Riley bit his lip. "She was only chosen because she supposedly reminded Victoria of herself." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever that means."

"Why was she at the slaughterhouse that night?"

"I dunno," Riley said, hands balling into fists. He muttered a series of curses under his breath- must be out of guilt, Leah thought. Or anger. Or both. "I'm—shit—too afraid to ask, you know?"

Fear, not surprisingly, was something the usual proud man didn't want to admit. A part of Leah truly felt for Riley. She couldn't imagine—but she still had a job to do. "I understand," she said. "But when you get the chance, find out? I may not be a fan of your life choices, but I'd like to get to the bottom of Bree's murder." She glanced at both sides; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "We'll keep in touch."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Leah nodded and went on her way.

She would never mention it to Riley, but he was quickly becoming one of the most useful informants she had ever encountered— especially given the circumstances of their first meeting. She wondered if there was another motive behind Riley's cooperation besides being offered some reprieve. She was beginning to notice that ever since Bree's untimely demise, Riley was slowly losing faith in Victoria.

"The esteemed Detective Louis Eames," Jacob announced, walking through the large hole that once housed lounge's stained-glass window. Leah and Embry followed close behind.

It was two days since the ambush at Mike's Lounge, and the crime scene area, though tended to aggressively, still looked like the incident had only happened hours ago. There weren't any dead bodies present this time, but there was still a significant media presence, a large bystander presence, and never-ending debris.

Detective Eames turned around and groaned, "Are you trying to sabotage my case, Black?"

"Oh, come on, Eames, after all the time we've spent together?" Jacob said, slapping the detective on his shoulder. "How you're doing this fine morning?"

"Ugh," Eames said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Eames didn't have to explain how he was feeling. His body language told Leah for him. He was exhausted beyond belief, and instead of resting, he was here, in the middle of a destroyed lounge with blood caked everywhere. The paperwork was going to be infuriating, only slightly more than those goddamn journalists standing beyond the caution tape who didn't know what "we don't have any new information at this time" meant if those words were shoved up their—

"We just stopped by to give some insistence," Jacob said, cutting off Leah's thoughts. "Unfortunately, those involved are also involved in some of our cases."

"Seems pretty cut-and-dry to me," Eames said, glancing to his left where his partner stood, speaking with another cop. "Mob party gone wrong. This has retaliation all over it."

"Wonderful."

"I got one thing, though." Eames turned around, picked up an evidence bag, and presented it to the trio. "Bullets made out of the light. Ain't that some shit? They kill off certain groups of people, if you can call them that…"

"They're people," Jacob said. "Annoying, but people nonetheless." He examined the content of the bag and sighed. "How many did you find?"

"Gotta be at least a hundred."

"Oh, they were serious," Embry said. "A warning shot, this wasn't a warning shot."

"I'm surprised they'd leave such damning evidence," Leah said.

"They're getting sloppy," Eames said. "This not good…"

"Not good?" Jacob replied, smirking. "Oh, we love sloppy. Sloppy means we're on to them. Sloppy means it's only a matter of time before they really fuck up. And boy, do I love slip-ups."

Embry shrugged. "Yeah, what he said."

Leah rolled her eyes.

"Why I'm glad you're a half-glass-full guy," Eames grumbled. "Because of this mess, the goddamn feds are here, snooping around our cases."

"The feds had always been here," Leah said.

Eames rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not like this."

"C'mon, what do you expect?" Jacob said. "This place was blown and shot into smithereens. The mob was involved, multiple mobs. Those mobs. Of course, the feds are gonna make an appearance."

This wasn't their crime scene, Leah had to remind herself as she walked among the debris. They were only here to provide assistance, to make sure the two detectives officially assigned to this case knew who they were dealing with and how to start.

She looked over her shoulder and sighed at the sight of her partners roaming around the scene, with pads and pens in their hands, talking to everyone they encountered—they must not have gotten the memo.

Or maybe they didn't care. It seemed that the protocol wasn't too important for the task force. Leah guessed she could understand why; they weren't dealing with the usual perpetrators.

This isn't her business, she reminded herself as she headed into the direction of Detective Eames, who was checking out what was once the bar. She was going to ask a couple of questions, she promised herself, maybe answer some questions for the detective. Eames was an old-timer, but he tolerable.

"A low-level grenade was tossed through the front windows. Two, exactly. One stopped near the front of the lounge, the next on the second floor," Eames told Leah when she approached him, asking about the bomb. "Amidst all of the confusion and smoke, the shooting began."

Leah's eyes roamed around the dilapidated shelved that once held liquor and other antiques. "How many dead again?"

"Now, fourteen," Eames said. "We found the last one under some rubble."

"And I assume the dead are at the morgue?"

"Dr. Swan and crew picked them up some time back," Eames let out a dry cough before putting on his gloves and lifting an ashy wooden slab. One untouched bottle of Jack Daniels—he snorted, and, "She said she would give us the results from the preliminary examinations by the end of the say."

"It should be easy."

"Yeah, except it's not."

"Because they're the undead?"

Eames blinked, and then slightly smiled. "Ah, so you do know about them?"

"I'm on Paul's taskforce, Eames," Leah reminded the man, "Of course, of course, I do."

"Crazy, ain't it? Us, living among vampires. Who'd ever thought those myths were on to something?" Eames then sighed. "I don't even know why I'm bothering with this case. We can't arrest vampires. We gotta rely on the damn feds now."

"Any signs of the owner of the establishment?"

"He's currently M.I.A."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean he's missing?"

"No one's seen or heard from him since before the party," the other detective explained. He was annoyed about it. "And he's not one of the dead."

"Shit."

"I wouldn't be concerned," Eames said, sounding surprisingly hopeful for a usually cynical man. "He's bound to come back to Chicago. He has to. This is, was, his business. He was there, and he needs to be brought in for questioning."

"Maybe that's why he's M.I.A."

"It really wouldn't do him any good. Especially if the feds get their hands on him."

Leah appreciated the detective's optimism; it was a breath of fresh air, but she knew deep inside that Mike wouldn't return this screaming unless he was kicking or screaming or dead. The man would rather slit his wrists than testify as a witness. "I'm sure he will."

"I can't thank you enough for agreeing to meet up with us. Especially at this time of night."

"Oh, it's no big deal," Benjamin told Leah as he poured himself a glass of blood. The animal kind— he had ensured the detectives after apologizing for not having anything else to serve but blood. "Anyway, my kind thrives at night. Eleven in the evening is nothing.

"You're sure your people won't throw a fit about compromising your position?" Jacob asked.

Leah's eyes searched around the tiny, sparsely-decorated, apartment, a studio, really. Located in Rogers Park. The place was probably bugged since it did serve as Benjamin's temporary home, but she wasn't too concerned. Nothing nefarious was expected.

"I wouldn't call it compromising," Benjamin said, sitting down on his frayed leather couch across from the detectives. "Aren't we on the same team?"

Jacob was satisfied with the reply.

"How much time do we have?" Embry asked.

"Thirty tops."

"We should get started then," Leah decided as she took out a pen and a notepad. "So, it's my understanding that we all are, more or less, investigating the same group of people and are cognizant of the Deal brokered between the police and various covens, serving as criminal enterprises..."

Benjamin took a sip of his snack. "That goddamn Deal."

"It was a terrible idea," Jacob gritted out.

"Ain't that the truth," Embry mumbled.

"They said it was necessary at the time," Leah said. She didn't like the agreement any more than Jacob or Embry did, but it had been the sixties. The city had enough issues as it was; it hadn't needed vampires added into the mix of that era's drama.

The conversation stalled.

"What do you know about Demetri?" Embry asked, breaking the silence.

"He's dead," Benjamin stated.

"Killed by a shot to the head," Embry said.

Benjamin nodded but seemed conflicted. "Yeah, I heard about that. Suicide, they say. Somewhat surprised, I have to admit. I know suicide is... suicide, but the man was a narcissistic asshole. He loved who he was, what he was able to do." He shook his head. "I don't know. I find it hard to believe he'd put a gun to his head..."

"Hypothetically speaking, if someone wanted him dead, what would be the motive?" Leah asked.

"Hypothetically speaking," the agent scoffed.

"Hypothetically speaking, if anyone wanted him dead, it'd be the Cullen's. Carlisle, in particular. Now, I don't have the specifics yet, but I do know he played a part in that deal-gone-wrong. You know, the one that resulted in that poor lady getting cut up and left in a hotel room."

Jacob cursed, Embry was apologetic, and Leah's mood changed to despair.

Benjamin studied the detectives' morose reactions. "That was your case?" he asked, and then after the detectives nodded, he shook his head and said, "Shit. Damn. Was that the reason why you were hanging around Mike's? It was for your murder investigation?" He stopped. "How did you know about that party, anyway? It was supposed to be private."

Jacob's hand shot up. "Hey, slow down with the questions."

"We have our sources," Embry said. "They gave us some info, and we decided to check it out."

Benjamin nodded. "I see."

"Have you seen Jessica's crime scene photos?" Leah asked.

Benjamin nodded. "Pretty brutal."

"The way her body was displayed, that had to be retaliation, right?"

"It seems that way."

"Did you know her?" Jacob then asked.

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Goodness, this is starting to feel like a damn interrogation," and then, "Who, the girl? I wouldn't say I knew her. Only seen her a few times. Spoke to her once. She was one of Carlisle's girls, from what I hear, you know how people talk."

"They were a lot of rumors about her?" Embry asked.

"Like you wouldn't believe. I heard that she started seeing Carlisle around 2016. At first, he was discreet about it, but then he started getting comfortable. Careless. He would always give her money, take her on exclusive trips, invite her to some parties. Which I honestly don't get."

"Why?" Leah asked.

"Because if I were him, I'd never take my human girlfriend to parties attended by no one but vampires," the agent said. "It's too dangerous. Some vampires—they wouldn't see Carlisle's girl. They'd see dinner."

"And yet, no one attacked her during those parties?"

Benjamin shrugged. "I guess no one wanted to be bothered facing off with a pissed-off coven leader."

"Was Carlisle possessive of Jessica?" Jacob asked. "I'm asking because we found the Cullen-Denali brand inside her wrist."

"I don't think..." Benjamin stopped. "I don't think that was an act of possessiveness to tell you the truth. That might have been all Jessica's doing. After all, it seemed like she wanted nothing more than to be by Carlisle's side."

"She must have been enamored by the Cullens," Leah suggested.

Benjamin frowned. "I think she was enamored with what he was rather than who he was."

"Huh," Jacob replied, crossing his arms.

Leah glanced at her partner, and then it hit her.

Oh.

"She wanted to be a vampire," Leah concluded, eyes wide.

That was why Jessica had allowed whoever, presumably Demetri, to bite her.

"You know humans can't resist us," Benjamin teased with a toothy grin. Leah raised an eyebrow. Embry didn't care while Jacob gave the vampire a blank look. "You're not a fan or my kind, are you?"

"No, not really," Jacob said.

Benjamin shrugged, seemingly not offended.

"Were there any attempts made to change Jessica?" Embry then asked.

Benjamin shook his head. "It's a well-known fact that coven members would have to get permission from the higher-ups to turn someone," he said. "And no one in their right mind would change Jessica. Esme would never forgive them. She barely tolerated the girl."

Leah leaned forward, always interested in discussing Esme. "I thought Esme was tolerant of the open-marriage arrangement?"

"She was, is, but..." the agent stopped to gather his words. "I guess Jessica didn't make a good impression. Look, Carlisle may not in love with Esme, but he does take some of her desires into consideration. Carlisle would have never turned Jessica, no matter how much she begged him to."

"Would a vampire-Jessica be that bad?" Leah asked.

"According to them, it would," Benjamin said. "I do recall overhearing some guys talking about her some months back. Apparently, she was begging every vampire she ran into to change her. I don't know why she was so insistent about it..." and then, "I have a question if you don't mind."

Jacob shrugged. "Shoot."

"Who are you after?"

"Jessica's killer," Jacob said. "The Denali's killer. Those responsible for the slaughterhouse murders. Demetri's killer—you know, the whole nine yards."

"Looks you guys got a lot on your plate," Benjamin said. "You sure you're not with the Bureau?"

"We're pretty sure," Leah said.

"Ah, well, they're going to be more involved. Really involved," the agent told the detectives.

"Thanks for the heads up," Jacob said. "Anything you want from us?"

"Just an understanding—you scratch my backs, and I'll scratch yours. But I suppose since you've asked: do me one favor. Do you think we can keep this from the general public?" Benjamin asked. "No offense to you, Leah, but I doubt the human population would react well to the truth."

Leah shrugged.

"What do you think we've been doing?" Embry said, giving two thumbs up. "As far as the media's concerned, Mike's Lounge was destroyed by illegal fireworks."

Benjamin smirked. "It's a start."

"You got another informant?"

Leah wouldn't exactly call Benjamin that. The informant-label was generally applied to a perp willing to work with the law, and Benjamin wasn't that. He was an undercover federal agent. A man, a vampire whose identity Leah promised not to reveal to anyone, not even Paul— she cleared her throat. "It's complicated."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's really complicated," Leah stressed, wondering if she should have just kept her mouth shut about the agent. But then again, Paul was the captain; he ought to know something. "But the C.I. has some valuable information. Perhaps, at this moment, even more than Riley."

Paul leaned back in his chair. "So, you wanna let Riley go?"

Leah shook her head. "Not yet," she said, glancing out of Paul's office windows to where Jacob and Embry stood, looking over some photos from the stakeout. "They're both extremely vital to our investigation."

Paul leaned forward, folding his hand on his desk. "We can't use anything from your new C.I in court if we don't know where his person stands," he reminds the detective.

"I know," Leah said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "But trust me on this, Paul, not now. Not until some things clear up and calm down. And anyway, based on how this mess is progressing now, I doubt we'll see the courtroom anytime soon."

"So, what's the final count?"

"You guys missed one: fifteen dead. Six from Maria. Three from the Cullens," Benjamin said, rapping his fingers against the passenger door where the window met the fabric. He was slouching in the seat behind Embry, across from Leah, trying to remain as inconspicuous to outsiders as possible. But maybe not— he didn't seem to be that concerned about his location. After all, it was only noon. The action didn't occur until after sundown. "A waiter—vampire. Five from the Denalis. Got nineteen injured, all able to escape before your friends arrived."

"How convenient," Jacob remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Anyone of importance?" Leah asked.

"Most are low-level soldiers, shot along the front lines. But we do have one of note: Carlisle. He's out of commission."

Leah quickly wrote that information down.

Jacob looked at the agent via his rear-view mirror. "As in dead?"

"As in out of commission," Benjamin confirmed, adjusting his sunglasses. "Caught a couple of UV's in the shoulder and the leg. He's not reacting too well."

"He's having an allergic reaction," Embry said.

Benjamin nodded.

"He's gonna survive?" Embry asked.

"Can't see why not." Benjamin gave a half-shrug; he didn't seem too concerned. "He's on bed rest, but he'll pull through."

Leah cleared her throat. "Who's in charge now?"

"Edward Masen."

"Of course," Jacob grumbled under his breath.

Embry didn't seem too surprised either.

"I thought he didn't want to be in charge," Leah told the agent, frowning. "That's what you told me."

"It has nothing to do with want, and everything to do with obligation," Benjamin replied. "Edward's always been Carlisle's right-hand man. What were they going to do? Put Jasper, or worse, Emmett, in charge? Although illegal, the Cullen enterprise is a business, not the damn Knights Templar."

Leah wasn't convinced.

"I thought Jasper's... calmed down," Jacob said. "Don't tell me he's back to his ol' tricks."

"He's calmed down, alright," Benjamin replied. "But that's only because of Carlisle and Edward. He's... an alright guy, I guess. Real smart, but not fit to be the boss. Even he would admit that."

"What about Esme?" Leah offered.

She knew that on paper, Esme was a non-factor, but there was just something about that woman that made Leah pause. She wasn't dumb; she wasn't some foolish, happy-go-lucky homemaker— Leah had seen past her facade during the night at Mike's. She had made a point to watch Esme's (and Edward's) every move. Based on her observations, although Esme hadn't entirely accepted her husband's infidelity from what she had seen, she wasn't putting up a fight because simply there wasn't one.

It was as if Esme had already known she had won. What and how? Leah vowed to find out.

"She prefers to remain behind the scenes, playing puppet master if needed," Benjamin said. "Especially since now Edward's on top. She's like a mother to him. He'll definitely take her opinions into consideration."

"And what about retaliation?" Embry asked.

"Oh, it's coming," Benjamin said. "But the details haven't been decided. People are still reeling over what happened, and now they have to recruit more people..."

"They're trying to build a newborn army like Victoria?" Jacob asked.

"Wouldn't be surprised," Benjamin said, now with one foot out of the door. "I'll keep you posted if anything comes up."

"Don't make us wait long," Leah said.

Benjamin winked at her. "I won't."

"Tell me about Jasper," Leah requested as she finished up a batch of reports. It was the morning after meeting up with Benjamin, two days following the ambush at Mike's, and the trio found themselves bound to their temporary desks at Paul's precinct for the morning. Jacob, unsurprisingly, was annoyed, but Leah couldn't help but feel relieved. She wanted to stay out of the action for the next few hours.

"You haven't worked on him?" Embry asked, leaning back in his chair, surprised.

"Apparently, not enough," Leah mumbled, moving on to the second stack of her dreaded paperwork. She appreciated her job, she honestly did, but she wished paperwork would just die.

Jacob reached out for his second-morning coffee, sitting at the edge of his seat and snorted. "Take that as a blessing."

Embry leaned over towards Leah and dropped, "Sicario."

Leah raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Sicario," the cop repeated, and then, "That's his nickname."

"Never heard of it."

"It's Spanish for hitman, but it's been out of use as far as Jasper's concerned," Jacob explained with a dismissive wave. "He was a Confederate soldier in the Civil War. One thing led to another, and he ended up in Mexico, where he became a hitman for Maria. Then one thing led to another, and he found himself working for the Cullen's."

"He's one of those quiet-serial killer types," Embry added. "Creepy as fuck."

"And Emmett?"

"Now, I know you've heard of him," Jacob said.

She had. Leah knew Emmett, sort of. During one of her earliest, albeit brief, assignments as a detective, she had investigated the man for conspiracy to murder. But of course, he had gotten off with nothing to his name. She would later learn that Emmett was now what Jasper had been to the Cullen's decades before— an enforcer. He was a force to be reckoned with, but at times, a carefree man, something only a selected few had the honor of witnessing.

"But, I doubt I have the entire story."

"No one does," her partner replied.

"You know, if you wanna learn more about him, you should ask Miss Rosalie Hale," Embry offered, wiggling his eyebrows. He only stopped when he noticed Jacob's dirty look. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"He has a thing for her."

Leah opened a can of beer. "Who, Rosalie?"

Aisha glanced to her left and right, a habit developed by both women over the years. Nothing of note popped out. The friends were sitting inside a Wrigleyville bar during Happy Hour. It was an alright spot, in Leah's opinion, but it wasn't a complete dive. It wasn't full of drunken sports fans and lightweight college students attempting to do a bar crawl. "Yep."

Leah blinked before bringing the beer to her mouth. She was convinced that Embry had only been joking earlier; supposedly, she was wrong. "Well, then."

"Rumor has it that she changed him back in the thirties," Aisha explained. Her voice was steady and loud enough to hear over the increasingly rowdy crowd, but no one was paying the duo any mind. "Something about him being mauled by a bear." She shrugged. "I don't know. Rumors are rumors."

"How was he able to join the Cullens?" Leah asked. "Rosalie's been declining the family's invites for years."

"I'm sure she introduced him to them at some point," Aisha said. "After all, Carlisle is the reason why she still graces us with her presence. She had died in the twenties at the hands of her husband or fiancé, a real piece of work, and Carlisle gave her the bite."

"That explains her loyalty to the Cullens," Leah replied. "I do wonder why she refuses to join them. Their coven, I guess. I mean, she's been working for them as their legal counsel since forever. She knows them."

"I guess she wants the one thing she couldn't have while alive."

"And what would that be?"

Aisha cleared her throat, staring off into the crowd, surrounding the bar, but not seeming to see anything. "Freedom."