AN: I appreciate all of you! Thank you so much!

Bella and Edward walked out of the interrogation room to see Solomon and Jacob stood near the observation window, expressions harrowed down by the implications of what they'd just heard.

"Caius?" Solomon's voice was a low rumble, filled with a kind of rare dread that made Bella's spine stiffen. "As in Caius Valente?"

Bella nodded, her tone clipped. "That's what Alec said. He didn't spell it out, but it was definitely a warning—and not an empty one."

Edward's gaze bounced between them all, his eyebrows knitted together. "I've heard a little bit about Caius, but... I mean, what are we dealing with here exactly?

Jacob blew out a low breath, muttering a curse as he ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "We've been after this bastard for years. He's like a damn myth—a boogeyman. Nobody talks about him unless they're already dead or wish they were."

Solomon's gaze turned distant, his jaw set hard. "Caius isn't a myth. He's worse. The drugs, the guns, the trafficking—he doesn't just profit off suffering. He orchestrates it." Solomon's voice dropped an octave, his words chilling. "And his reach? It's everywhere. Judges, cops, senators. You name it. Caius doesn't operate in shadows—he owns them."

Edward shifted his weight against the wall, arms folded tightly, his gaze hard and calculating. "Okay. So, aside from all the ghost stories. What do we know for sure?"

For a moment, nobody spoke. The precinct beyond them hummed with distant noise—phones ringing, footsteps scuffing, muffled voices—but here, it felt like a vacuum, pulling everything inward.

Solomon sighed, running a hand over his face. "Not much. We've tracked shipments, busted his low-level dealers, but the man himself? Nothing ever sticks. He's a pro at erasing his tracks, and every lead we've ever had turns up dead or missing before they can testify."

"Because people don't betray him and survive," Jacob added, his voice grim. "He doesn't just kill you—he makes a point. A big one. That's why no one's ever turned on him. It's a death sentence."

Bella looked to Edward, her expression betraying the chill that had seeped into her bones. "Alec wasn't bluffing," she said quietly. "He knows. He was terrified, Edward. I've never seen someone look like that while holding back a smile."

Edward's gaze lingered on hers for a beat, something flickering behind his eyes—something protective, something furious. "He's terrified because he knows what happens next."

Solomon's lips thinned, his voice turning sharp. "And now he's made itpersonal.That's not Caius' usual playbook, which means we've officially pissed him off. If Alec's right…" Solomon's gaze swept over the two of them, a rare, somberness in his tone. "We need to watch our backs. He doesn't make empty threats. When he sends a message, it comes written in blood."

…

Alec Bradshaw sat on the narrow cot in his cell, his head tipped back against the cold cement wall, eyes half-lidded like a man who didn't have a care in the world. His faint smirk—the kind that screamed arrogance—tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was the smirk of a man who thought he'd already won.

The light overhead buzzed faintly, flickering in erratic pulses, as if the building itself were holding its breath. The air in the cell block felt heavier tonight—too still, too much like waiting for something inevitable.

Alec cracked one eye open when he heard the faint shuffle of boots outside his cell. He didn't move, didn't sit up, but the smirk deepened. "Took your time," he drawled, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

The guard—an older man with hollowed-out eyes and a dispassionate face—stopped in front of Alec's cell door. He didn't respond, didn't even look Alec in the eye. Instead, he held the keys in his hands, turning them over slowly. His thumb grazed the rough edge of one key, pausing for just a second before shoving it into the lock.

Alec's smirk faltered as the lock clicked open. "Hey—what are you doing?" His tone was sharp now, his posture stiffening as he leaned forward. The guard still didn't look at him, just twisted the handle and pulled the heavy door open a crack.

For the first time all night, Alec felt the thin thread of unease start to weave through his gut. Something's not right.

The guard finally glanced up, his expression vacant but purposeful, his words carrying a chill. "You brought this on yourself."

Then he turned on his heel, walking away down the corridor with the same tired shuffle, the echo of his boots fading. Alec shot to his feet, gripping the bars and yelling after him. "Hey! HEY! Where the hell are you going? Shut this door! Shut the damn door!"

But the guard didn't stop. He rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, leaving the holding area bathed in shadows and silence.

Alec turned back to his open cell door, his breathing uneven now, his bravado slipping like sand through his fingers. And then he heard it—the footsteps.

Soft at first. Measured. Deliberate. Someone taking their time.

Alec backed away instinctively, his shoulder bumping into the cold cement wall as his eyes darted toward the cell entrance. "Who's there?" he barked, his voice sharper than he intended, laced with the first whispers of panic.

The footsteps grew louder, steadier. Whoever was coming wasn't in a hurry—they didn't need to be.

A shadow stretched across the floor, long and dark, bleeding into the edges of the flickering light. The figure appeared in the doorway a moment later—a silhouette, faceless, motionless. And then Alec saw it.

The gleam of something sharp.

The figure tilted their head just slightly, a predator savoring the moment. When they spoke, the words were chillingly calm.

"No loose ends."

Alec's chest seized. "Wait! WAIT!" he shouted, the earlier confidence gone, replaced by raw, undiluted terror. "I'll talk! You hear me? I'll tell you everything! Just don't—"

The figure stepped forward.

Alec scrambled back, his boots skidding on the concrete floor as his back hit the cot, no more room to run. "No! NO! PLEASE!"

The figure lunged.

Alec screamed—high and broken—just as the light above flickered violently, buzzing louder than ever before. For a moment, it blazed to life, flooding the cell with harsh, unforgiving light, and Alec's shadow flailed wildly against the walls.

Then the bulb went out with a sickening pop.

The cell block was plunged into darkness, the silence more suffocating than before.

Far down the corridor, the faint sound of footsteps returned. Slow, steady, unhurried. A figure slipped through the door leading to the main station, their hands shoved deep into their pockets, their shoulders hunched as if weighed down by nothing more than exhaustion.

No one stopped them.

A desk sergeant looked up briefly as the figure passed, half-asleep at his post. He yawned, scratched the back of his head, and glanced at the clock on the wall before returning to his paperwork.

The camera mounted in the corner of the hallway—one that hadn't worked in weeks—blinked red like it was still alive, though no footage was being captured.

The guard from earlier emerged from the other side of the building a few minutes later, his face pale but impassive. He stepped outside, his breath fogging in the cold air as he lit a cigarette with shaking hands. He stood there for a long moment, staring across the darkened parking lot like he could see something—or someone—watching him from the shadows.

He exhaled a shaky plume of smoke, flicking ash onto the ground.

"Nothing personal," he muttered to himself.

Somewhere in the station, a clock ticked loudly. A phone rang, unanswered. And in the darkness of Alec Bradshaw's cell, all that remained was silence.

…

Edward had barely settled at his desk, the weight of exhaustion still clinging to him, when Solomon stormed into the squad room. His heavy footsteps and pale, grim expression sucked the life out of the room before he even said a word. Bella, already at her desk nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee, sat up straighter, the fatigue in her eyes sharpening as she picked up on his energy.

"Everyone, listen up!" Solomon's voice cut through the low hum of the bullpen like a blade.

The usual murmur of early-morning chatter fell silent. Rosalie and Emmett abandoned their conversation and joined the group near the center of the room. Jacob and Jasper strolled in, while Alice slid her chair back from her desk, her fingers still hovering over the keyboard.

Solomon's gaze swept over his team, his voice weary. "Alec Bradshaw's dead."

The words landed like a bomb. For a beat, no one spoke, the air thick with stunned disbelief.

"What?" Bella demanded, her voice sharp and cutting through the silence.

"Murdered," Solomon said grimly. "In his cell last night. No witnesses, no footage. Someone knew exactly how to get to him, and make no mistake—it was Caius."

Edward exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand through his hair as his mind raced. "Christ."

Jacob leaned against a nearby desk, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "So that's it? Caius is making his move already." His voice was low, anger simmering beneath the surface.

Before Solomon could answer, the sharpbuzzof Alice's computer broke through the room. All eyes flicked to her as she picked up the incoming call, her expression shifting quickly from focused to pale.

"Guys," Alice said, her voice tight. "We've got another one."

Solomon turned sharply toward her. "What?"

Alice swallowed, her fingers hesitating over the keyboard as she brought up the details. "A patrol officer—Tyler Crowley. Found dead this morning."

The room tensed like a coiled spring.

"What's the scene?" Rosalie asked, her voice low, though everyone seemed to already know the answer.

Alice's face was pale as she read from the report. "Decapitated, tongue removed, and… a 'C' carved into his forehead."

A heavy, leaden silence fell over the bullpen. Edward clenched his jaw, his fists pressing into his thighs, while Emmett let out a quiet curse under his breath. Rosalie looked away briefly, anger flickering in her eyes.

Bella set her coffee down, her hand trembling slightly against the cup. "He's already going through with his promise. This is him sending a message."

Solomon's jaw was tight as he nodded. "And this time, it's personal."

Edward's eyes flicked toward Bella, catching the brief shadow of unease that passed over her face. This wasn't just another case—they all knew it. Caius Valente wasn't the kind of man who played fair. He played for blood.

"We need to get ahead of this," Solomon continued, his tone hard. "Alice, pull up every connection Crowley had—work, friends, family. I want to know why Caius targeted him. Jacob, Emmett—head down to the crime scene and liaise with the ME. I want details the report doesn't cover. Jasper, Rosalie— get down to County and figure out who in the fuck was working last night in Alec's cell block. Whoever it was, they're on Caius' payroll."

Jacob pushed off the desk, cracking his knuckles. "On it." The rest of the team stood as well, their movement urgent.

Solomon turned to Bella and Edward, gaze steady. "You two stay here. Start digging deeper into Caius' network. I want every name, every tie, every damn thread. We find out where he's hiding before he hits us again."

…

The bullpen was quiet save for the faint clatter of keyboards and the shuffle of paperwork. Bella sat at her desk, her focus narrowed to the sea of names, dates, and financial records splashed across her screen. The mundane sounds only seemed to amplify the hours they'd spent digging, trying to dismantle a web so tangled it felt almost alive.

Across from her, Edward's eyes moved over a separate file, a crease forming between his brows. His jaw worked slightly, the telltale sign of his rising frustration. "Nothing but dead ends," he muttered, tossing another file onto the growing stack. "Caius has his people buried deep."

Bella didn't respond immediately, her eyes lingering on a name that had just popped froze, her heart sinking as the familiar name connected with an unfamiliar context. She clicked further, pulling up a report tied to one of Caius' low-level associates—a boyfriend Tanya had mentioned offhandedly during one of their conversations months ago.

Edward caught the shift in her expression. "What is it?" he asked, leaning slightly closer.

Bella hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. "Tanya Denali."

Edward frowned, clearly recognizing the name. "Who's that?"

"She's a CI of mine," Bella said quietly, a pit forming in her stomach. "She's helped me a couple of times—petty stuff mostly. Never anything close to this. But…" She glanced back at her screen, dread weighing heavily in her chest. "Her boyfriend ran with Caius' people a while back. That might be the connection we need."

Edward leaned back slightly, considering. "You trust her?"

"I do," Bella admitted. "But this... this isn't small-time. If Caius so much as suspects she's talking to us—" She didn't finish the thought. They both knew what would happen. Caius wouldn't just kill her; he'd make a statement out of it.

Edward's voice softened. "You don't have to call her."

Bella's eyes flickered to his, resolute. "I have to try."

Before Edward could say more, Solomon appeared in the doorway of his office. "You've got something?"

Bella stood, walking over quickly. "Maybe. One of my CIs—Tanya Denali. Her boyfriend used to run with Caius' crew. It's a long shot, but it's all we've got right now."

Solomon studied her for a moment, his face unreadable. "You think she knows something?"

"She might. And even if she doesn't, she might be able to point us to someone who does," Bella said, keeping her tone steady. "But it's risky. If Caius finds out…"

"He won't," Solomon said firmly, though the warning in his tone was clear. "Make the call. If she cooperates, we've got the 1505 funds to compensate."

Bella nodded, though the pit in her stomach deepened. "Understood."

She turned back toward her desk, her fingers hovering over her phone. Edward watched her silently as she sat down. "You sure about this?" he asked quietly.

Bella swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah."

She stood and walked toward a quieter corner of the bullpen, gripping the phone tightly as she dialed Tanya's number. Each ring sent her nerves humming up.

Come on, Tanya. Pick up.

Finally, the call connected, and Tanya's voice came through, guarded and cautious. "Bella? What's up?"

Bella exhaled through her nose, keeping her voice calm, yet urgent. "I need to meet. At our usual spot."

Tanya paused. "Why?"

Bella hesitated, her throat tightening. "It's about... Caius."

The silence that followed stretched painfully long. Bella could practically feel Tanya's unease through the line. When Tanya finally spoke, her voice was sharp and laced with fear. "Why the fuck are you asking about him?"

Bella's chest tightened, but she pushed on, her tone softening. "Because we need your help, Tanya. This could be big. I promise you'll be protected—and we'll pay you well."

Tanya let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. "You think money's gonna keep me safe if that fucking psycho finds out I'm talking to you?"

Bella closed her eyes for a second, trying to steady her voice. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Please, Tanya. Just hear me out."

Tanya was quiet again, and Bella could hear her faint breathing over the line. The pause dragged until finally, Tanya exhaled sharply. "Jesus Christ, Bella," she muttered. "You're gonna get me killed."

"You know I won't let that happen," Bella replied, pleading now. "Please. Just trust me."

Another long beat of silence. Then, finally, a resigned sigh. "Fine. But if this goes south, you better pray he finds me dead before I find you."

Bella felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. "Thank you. I'll see you in an hour."

The call disconnected, and Bella stood frozen for a moment.

Edward appeared at her side, his voice low. "She's in?"

Bella nodded slowly, turning to face him. "Yeah. But she's scared, Edward. Really scared."

He didn't need to ask why. They both knew what Caius was capable of.

Edward placed a hand on her arm briefly, his touch comforting. "We'll make sure she's safe. You're doing the right thing."

Bella managed a tight nod, though the lingering guilt gnawed at her. "Let's hope so."

Edward watched her for another moment before they both headed back to the bullpen to prepare. Bella gathered her files, her mind racing with every possible outcome of the meeting. She couldn't shake the thought of Tanya's voice on the phone—the fear that crackled through each word.

If this goes south, you better pray he finds me dead before I find you.

Bella shoved the thought aside as she grabbed her coat. For Tanya's sake—and for her own—she couldn't let it go south.

The hum of the engine filled the silence as Bella and Edward drove out of the precinct parking lot, the quiet thick and heavy between them. Bella's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, her focus fixed on the road ahead. Edward sat beside her, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his gaze darting between her profile and the streetlights flicking past the window.

After what felt like an eternity, Edward finally spoke, his voice low but edged with frustration. "You really think this is the right call?"

Bella didn't look at him. "Do we have another option?" Her tone was clipped, firm, but there was a flicker of something else beneath the surface—doubt she wouldn't allow herself to voice.

Edward exhaled sharply through his nose. "No. But I don't have to like it." He ran a hand over his face, trying to temper his growing frustration. "She's in a dangerous position, Bella. If Caius gets wind of this—"

"I know the risks, Edward." Bella's voice cut through his words, sharp and unyielding. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the tension rolling off her like a wave.

Edward stared at her, his brows drawing together. "I'm not questioning you, alright?" he said, his tone softer this time. "But you care about her. And that's not a bad thing—it's human. It's just dangerous when someone like Caius is involved."

Bella's jaw twitched, her gaze fixed straight ahead as the city lights blurred in her periphery. She didn't respond, but her silence was louder than words.

Edward watched her carefully, catching the way her shoulders were locked, the rigid set of her jaw. "I'm worried about you," he said, his voice quieter now, more deliberate.

That got her attention. Bella's head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing. "I don't need you to coddle me, Edward."

Edward blinked, his jaw tightening at the sudden bite in her words. "Coddle you?" He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Jesus, Bella, that's not what I'm doing. You don't have to prove to me—or anyone—that you can handle yourself. I already know that. But you don't have to carry all of this alone either."

"I am handling it," Bella shot back, her voice rising, the cracks in her composure beginning to show. "And what does it matter if I care about Tanya? That doesn't change what needs to be done."

Edward shook his head, and Rana. frustrated hand over his mouth. "That's not the point, and you know it. You're not a machine, Bella. You keep pushing everything and everyone away like it doesn't matter. Like you don't matter."

Bella's nostrils flared as her grip on the wheel tightened to the point of pain. "I don't know what the fuck you want from me, Edward," she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet like a whip. "I'm sorry I can't fucking hold your hand while you have nightmares. Because that's what this is about right?"

The words hung in the air, jagged and cruel. Edward stiffened, his jaw ticking as he turned his gaze sharply toward the window. The muscles in his neck flexed, his hands curling into fists in his lap.

"Okay, Bella," he muttered, his voice low but seething. "Whatever you say." He paused, the weight of his next words heavy and deliberate. "But I hope you realize I'm not mad because you can't hold my hand. I'm mad because you won't let anyone hold yours."

Bella's grip on the wheel faltered, her chest tightening as the words landed harder than she expected. She didn't look at him, but he didn't stop.

""You keep pushing people away like this… and eventually, they'll stop trying to get through to you," Edward said quietly, a thread of sadness lacing his tone. "And one day, when you finally turn around, there won't be anyone left to fight their way back in."

Bella's breath hitched, her jaw clenching so tightly it felt like it might shatter. The anger in Edward's tone had burned away to something quieter—something she really didn't want to face.

Neither of them spoke for a long while, the silence between them turning thick and suffocating, the faint hiss of tires against asphalt and the occasional radio chatter filling the air.

Finally, Edward turned back to face the windshield, his tone soft but bitter. "I'm not going anywhere, you know. But I can't fight you forever."

Bella didn't respond. Her chest felt tight, her pulse loud in her ears, but she couldn't find the words to explain the mess in her head—the gnawing fear, the walls she'd built to protect herself from ever feeling helpless again. So instead, she said nothing.

As they approached a red light, Edward exhaled sharply, leaning back in his seat. He didn't look at her, but his voice came out softer than before. "Just… promise me that if this starts going sideways, you'll pull back."

Bella's lips pressed into a thin line and she tossed him a hurried glance. "I know, Edward. I will."

The light turned green, and Bella pressed the gas, their SUV rolling forward through the quiet streets. The conversation might have ended, but the tension hung heavy in the air, unspoken words lingering like smoke in the dark.

The park stretched out in front of them like a forgotten wasteland—cracked pavement, rusted swings creaking in the cold wind, and dying streetlights that flickered like a heartbeat ready to stop. The SUV rolled to a halt near a grove of skeletal trees, and Bella cut the engine, submerging them in complete quiet. Bella stared straight ahead, her hands locked on the steering wheel as Edward watched her from the passenger seat.

"You sure about this?" Edward asked softly, though there was little doubt in the question—more like a plea for reassurance.

Bella didn't look at him. Her eyes were locked on the figure hunched on the bleachers beneath the sputtering lamplight. "Yeah," she replied, though her voice wavered enough to show her unease. "She'll be here."

Edward glanced around the park warily, his gaze sweeping over the teenagers by the swings and the smoke-draped shadows lingering beneath a distant streetlamp. He unclicked his seatbelt. "Let's keep this short."

Bella didn't answer. She opened the door and stepped out into the cold. Edward followed, his boots crunching softly over gravel as they moved in sync toward the figure. Every step felt like an intrusion—each noise amplified, like the dark was warning them to turn back.

Tanya Denali sat slouched on the middle row of the bleachers, the cherry-red glow of her cigarette her only company. She didn't look up until they were close, her sharp eyes narrowing under the hood of her coat. "Took you long enough," she muttered, flicking the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out beneath her boot. Her gaze cut to Edward, lingering suspiciously. "And who the hell is this?"

Bella stepped forward first, holding Tanya's gaze. "Edward Masen. My partner."

Tanya gave Edward a slow, skeptical once-over, as if trying to gauge his worth in a single glance. "Partner?" she scoffed, but there wasn't much bite to it—just weary skepticism. "You trust him?"

Edward noticed that she didn't hesitate. "I do."

He inclined his head slightly, his voice polite. "Good to meet you."

Tanya snorted, though there was something almost amused in her expression. "You got your work cut out for you, Masen. She's a handful."

Bella shot her a dry look, but the corner of her mouth twitched just slightly. Tanya shrugged unapologetically and crossed her arms tighter against her chest. "Alright, Bella, what the hell do you want? I'm freezing my ass off, and I don't have time for games."

Bella sank onto the bottom row of the bleachers, leaving Tanya her space. Edward stood off to the side, his back straight and his eyes scanning the park in quiet vigilance. "It's about Caius," Bella said, her voice low but clear. "We need to know what you've heard. Anything. Rumors. Names. Chatter."

The moment the name left Bella's lips, Tanya's entire demeanor changed. Her shoulders stiffened, her mouth pressing into a thin line. She rubbed at her arms as though the cold had doubled in intensity. "Yeah, you mentioned him. But why the fuck are you poking that hornet's nest?"

"Because it's already poking us," Bella replied. "This is serious, Tanya. He's targeting cops. People are dying."

Tanya let out a bitter laugh, hollow and sharp, as she looked at the cracked ground beneath her feet. "Of course he is. That's Caius for you. He doesn't just target people. He destroys them. You know that, right? And you're sitting here asking me for info?" She lifted her head, fixing Bella with a hard stare. "Fuck, you're out of your mind, Bella."

Bella met Tanya's gaze, unwavering. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to. But we can't stop him if we don't know what we're dealing with."

Tanya shifted uncomfortably, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets as her eyes darted to the dark shadows stretching across the park. For a long moment, it seemed like she wouldn't speak. Then, finally, her voice dropped to a near whisper. "He's planning something. Bigger than anything he's done before. He's pushing a new product, and he doesn't care who gets in his way. He's greased enough palms that he doesn't have to worry about consequences—dirty cops, politicians, the works."

Edward stepped closer, his voice steady. "What kind of product?"

Tanya shook her head quickly. "I don't know. I didn't ask, and I don't want to know. All I know is it's big. Something that'll give him control over the whole damn city." She paused, her lips pressing into a hard line before she added quietly, "And I've been hearing Demitri's name."

Bella stilled, her posture straightening at the mention of the name that haunted her for years. Her breath misted in the cold air, sharp and quick. "Demitri?"

Tanya noticed the shift, her brow furrowing. "You know him?"

Bella's voice was cold. "I put him away."

Tanya exhaled, her breath shaky. "Well, Caius hasn't forgotten. Word is, he's been seething ever since. If Demitri's name is back in circulation, it's not about business anymore—it's about revenge." She turned her gaze back to Bella, her expression dark. "You've made yourself a problem, Bella. And Caius doesn't tolerate problems."

Bella's stomach twisted, but her voice remained straight. "Anything else, Tanya?"

Tanya hesitated, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "No," she said after a long pause. "That's all I've got, and it's already too much."

Bella reached out, her voice softer now. "We'll keep you safe. I promise."

Tanya's sharp laugh rang out, bitter and devoid of hope. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Bella. I'm not stupid, and you're not a miracle worker." She stood abruptly, stuffing her hands deeper into her coat pockets. "If you see him again, do me a favor—don't mention my name. I'd rather he kill me quick."

Bella stood as well, her voice tight. "We'll make sure you're taken care of. You've helped more than you know."

Tanya gave her a long look, something softening in her expression. "Yeah, yeah... just... be careful. You're a good cop, but good cops don't last long when they're this deep in the mud."

Without another word, Tanya turned and walked away, the sound of her boots fading until there was nothing but silence.

Bella stood there for a moment, staring at where her informant had vanished. Edward stepped up beside her, his voice low. "You okay?"

Bella exhaled, the breath shaky as it hung in the cold air. "Not even close."

Edward didn't push. He just nodded, his presence steady beside her.

"Come on," she muttered finally, turning back toward the SUV. "We've got work to do."

The two of them climbed back into the car, and as Edward turned the engine over, the headlights cut through the dark park like a blade. The shadows remained—unmoved, unbroken—as if they were waiting for something else to emerge.

…

The air in the bullpen felt heavier than usual as Bella and Edward strode in, their expressions as hard as the news they carried. Solomon stood by the whiteboard after adding some new information, a marker tucked in his fist, deep in thought. The moment his eyes landed on them, he straightened, his gaze sharp and expectant.

"Talk to me," he ordered, forgoing pleasantries. Solomon never wasted time when the stakes were high.

Bella stepped forward first, her voice measured but edged with urgency. "Tanya confirmed what we were afraid of—Caius is planning something big. He's targeting law enforcement, and he's got dirty cops and politicians in his pocket. He's clearing the way for a new product he's pushing, and he doesn't care who gets caught in the crossfire."

Edward followed, his tone steady but heavy. "She mentioned Demetri too. It's personal for Caius—he's holding a grudge, and we think Bella may be on his radar."

Solomon's jaw twitched, his lips pressing into a thin line as the room stilled. His eyes narrowed as the weight of the information settled into place, but his silence was its own brand of thunder. The click of the whiteboard marker in his hand punctuated the silence, his fingers tapping it against his palm like a metronome. Everyone else—Rosalie, Jasper, Emmett, Jacob, Alice—sat frozen, waiting for the inevitable fallout.

When Solomon finally spoke, his voice was low, unyielding. "You're benched."

Bella blinked, the words taking a second to sink in. "What?"

"You heard me," Solomon said firmly, his gaze locked on her. "You're off this case as of now. Home or here, under guard. End of discussion."

Bella stepped closer, heat rising beneath her collar. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Solomon replied, turning back to the whiteboard. "This is my call, and I'm making it."

"No." Bella's voice cut through the quiet like glass shattering. "No way. I'm not sitting this out, Sarge."

Solomon turned slowly this time, his expression hardened as his eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to figure out who she was talking to. "You think I'm making this decision lightly?" he asked. "Caius wants blood, Bella. I'm not giving him yours."

"You don't get to decide that!" Her words came sharp and fast, her control slipping. "You're sidelining me because you're scared? Charlie, come on—this isn't how we do things."

The room tensed at the name—"Charlie"—a quiet acknowledgment that the fight had now left the realm of work. Solomon's features darkened, the cracks in his usual calm showing for just a second. "Don't," he said quietly, a warning beneath the single word.

Bella didn't relent, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and something closer to hurt. Her voice cracked a she continued to plead her case, begging him to see from her point of view. "You think I can't handle myself? I've been doing this for years—hell, you trained me. You can't just pull me because—"

"Because I don't want you dead!" Solomon's voice thundered, stunning everyone in the room. The crack of his words reverberated through the air like gunfire. "You think this is about doubt? You think I don't know how good you are? I do, Bella, if that's what you want to hear. But I also know Caius doesn't play games. You're a target, and I'm not going to let you waltz right into his goddamn crosshairs."

Bella flinched slightly at the raw intensity in his voice, but her defiance stayed etched on her face. "I didn't sign up for this job to be protected like some fragile thing—"

"This isn't about protecting you," Solomon snapped, his voice dropping back to a dangerous calm. "This is about keeping you alive long enough to finish the damn job."

Her lips parted, a retort ready to fire, but she stopped. For just a moment, her expression faltered—just enough for the people who really knew her to see the crack underneath. Her fists curled tightly at her sides, and when she spoke again, her voice had dropped to a low, almost pleading tone.

"I can handle myself, Solomon," she said, quieter now. "You know I can."

"Yeah? You've been telling yourself that your whole damn life, haven't you? And look where it's gotten you—pissed off, and halfway to getting yourself killed."

The air left Bella's lungs like she'd been punched. Her expression froze, but something flickered in her eyes—hurt buried deep beneath the surface.

Her voice was low, accusatory. "That's out of line."

Solomon didn't back down. His tone was gruff, edged with something that felt like frustration and care tangled into a knot. "Maybe it is. But it's true. You're not invincible, Bella. And one day, you're gonna learn that the hard way."

She stared at him for a long beat, her face carefully blank, but her hands curled into fists at her sides. Finally, she swallowed thickly, blinking hard. Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the exit, her boots pounding out a sharp rhythm against the tile floor.

Edward instinctively moved to follow, but Solomon's voice—cold and cutting—stopped him mid-step. "Masen."

Edward turned halfway, his shoulders stiff as he glanced back.

"You follow her out, then don't bother coming back either." Solomon didn't look at him as he spoke, his eyes already back on the board.

Edward's jaw clenched, his fingers twitching toward the badge clipped to his belt as if testing the weight of the choice. Across the room, Bella paused at the door, just enough to glance over her shoulder. Their eyes met, and she shook her head—a subtle signal to stay.

Edward exhaled slowly, the tension vibrating through his muscles. "Understood, sir," he said curtly.

The door slammed shut behind Bella, leaving a silence so deep it felt deafening.

"Rosalie, Emmett," Solomon barked, regaining control of the room. "Pull everything on Caius' lieutenants. I want names, associates, and every location they've used in the last six months. Edward, get with Alice—follow the money. Bribes, shell companies, dirty accounts—I want to know who's in his pocket and why. Jacob and Jasper, keep the patrol units active. If Caius so much as breathes wrong, I want eyes on him."

The team scattered, moving into action, the flurry of activity muted under the weight of what had just happened. Edward dropped into his chair, running a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the door Bella had disappeared through. The frustration simmered low in his gut, settling there like a slow-burning fire.

Bella stepped outside, the cold biting at her skin like it meant to punish her. The sharp air filled her lungs, but it did nothing to steady her pulse, which hammered wildly as if trying to break free from her chest. She shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets, fingers curling into fists as she exhaled a breath that came out shaky and uneven.

You're benched. Solomon's voice played in her mind, cruel in its simplicity. You've been telling yourself that your whole damn life, haven't you?

The thought hit harder than it should have, striking something raw and ugly inside of her. Her jaw clenched, but it didn't stop the spiral. She hated how familiar it felt—the isolation, the anger, the way she shut people out like it was second nature. And worse, she hated herself for how easy it was to do it.

Her own words came back to haunt her, sharp and unforgiving. I can't hold your hand while you have nightmares. The venom in her voice had been a shield, one she didn't even realize she was raising until it was too late. Edward hadn't deserved that. Neither had anyone else she'd shoved out of her life, one cruel push at a time. And still, she did it—every damn time—because letting people in, truly in, meant handing them the power to see her, to hurt her.

Her breath hitched as the truth sat heavy in her chest like a stone: she didn't know how to be anything else. How to let anyone past the walls she'd spent her entire life building. Instead, she pushed them, shoved them, until they were too far away to come back. And maybe, part of her thought bitterly, she deserved that.

Alone. It echoed in her head, cruel and hollow. She was good at pushing people away, but she was even better at pretending she didn't care when they left.

But the part that killed her most? When Edward looked at her earlier—hurt but still standing there, still trying—she realized she wasn't pretending anymore.

She kicked at a piece of gravel near her boot, her mind spinning with what little control she still had over the situation. And that's when something—instinct—made her pause. A prickle along the back of her neck. Bella stopped walking and frowned, her eyes drifting toward a black SUV idling across the street, its darkened windows reflecting the gray sky.

Something about it felt… wrong. Too still. Too deliberate.

Her frown deepened as she took a slow step forward, squinting as if she could see through the tint. Then, the window began to roll down—not fast, butslowly. A shiver crawled up her spine, and her eyes widened as she caught the unmistakable metallic glint of a gun barrel being raised.

Oh, shit—

"GET DOWN!" Bella's voice exploded, sharp and commanding, her gun instantly in her hand. She launched herself forward, grabbing the arm of a nearby woman and yanking her to the ground.

Panic erupted around her. Civilians screamed and scrambled as the first gunshots cracked through the air like fireworks. Bella hit the pavement hard, gritting her teeth as she shielded the woman, the sharp stench of burnt rubber and hot metal filling her nose.

The SUV's tires screeched as the vehicle lurched forward, windows down, bullets spraying indiscriminately across the street. Glass shattered as parked cars were peppered with holes. Bella peeked out from behind the sedan she had dived behind, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Fuck!" she hissed, watching as the SUV sped off, tires burning rubber as it tore down the street. She noted immediately that the license plate had been ripped off—professional.

Snatching her radio from her belt, she shouted into it, her voice clipped but urgent, "3-Charles-12, shots fired! Shots fired outside the West Precinct! Suspects vehicle is a Black SUV, no plates, four male occupants, last seen southbound on Jefferson. I need backup and traffic control!"

Her breath came fast and shallow as her gaze darted frantically across the street. Her stomach dropped. Three people were down—two on the sidewalk, one slumped against a car.

Bella pressed the transmit button again, her voice raw with urgency. "3-Charles-12, civilians down! Multiple GSWs—roll three aid units to my location now!"

She turned to the woman she had pulled to the ground, her face pale and her wide eyes brimming with shock. "You okay?" Bella's voice softened just enough to sound human.

The woman nodded shakily, clutching her purse against her chest. "I—yeah. Yes."

"Stay low," Bella ordered quickly, then crawled toward the nearest civilian, an older man sprawled on the sidewalk, blood soaking through his light jacket. He was groaning weakly, his eyes fluttering. Bella's pulse spiked as she dropped to her knees beside him, pressing her hands firmly onto the wound. Warm blood seeped through her fingers, and her hands trembled ever so slightly as she worked to stanch the flow.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Bella murmured, her voice steady despite the pounding in her chest. "You're fine. You're going to be fine. Just keep breathing for me, alright?"

The man groaned again, his head lolling slightly, but Bella kept the pressure steady. "Stay with me," she whispered under her breath.

The distant wail of sirens grew louder—units responding, ambulances closing in. Doors banged open as officers poured out of the precinct behind her, weapons drawn and eyes darting in every direction.

"Help the others!" Bella shouted, her voice hoarse as she motioned toward the other two victims on the sidewalk. "Over there! Pressure on the wounds until the medics get here!"

She barely registered the sound of footsteps pounding down the precinct steps, followed by a familiar voice yelling her name.

"Bella!"

Edward.

He dropped to a crouch beside her, his eyes sweeping over her quickly before landing on the bleeding man. "You okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Bella said sharply, her focus still on the man beneath her hands. Her chest was heaving from adrenaline, but she didn't let it show. "It was an ambush. Black SUV across the street. They were waiting—watching me, I think. As soon as I stepped outside, they opened fire."

Edward swore under his breath, his jaw tightening as his gaze flicked to the chaos around them—officers assisting the wounded, shattered glass and smoking cars painting the street as an impromptu war zone.

"You're sure you're not hit?" he asked again, his voice quieter now, his eyes searching hers.

"I'm sure," Bella bit out, not looking up. She could feel the sharp sting of a scrape on her knee, but nothing else. "Focus on what matters."

Edward exhaled sharply, his frustration clear, but he didn't press. "Ambulance is here," he said instead, glancing up as the flashing red and white lights skidded to a stop at the curb. Medics piled out, rushing toward the wounded.

Bella finally released the pressure as a paramedic knelt beside her. The man on the ground was pale but breathing, and she let herself breathe for the first time in minutes. She rocked back onto her heels, her palms slick with blood, and wiped them absently on her jeans as she stood up.

Edward was watching her closely, his brow furrowed. "Bella…"

"I'm fine," she said again, though her voice cracked faintly. She looked around at the officers swarming the scene, the controlled chaos unfolding in waves. Her gaze flicked back toward the now-empty street where the SUV had disappeared, her expression darkening.

"They were waiting," she murmured, almost to herself. "They were waiting for me."

Edward stepped closer, his voice low. "We'll find them, Bella."

Bella didn't answer. She just stared down the road, the distant wail of sirens echoing faintly in her ears, and whispered, "It's starting."