Jace Wilcox had spent years in warzones, but somehow, this felt worse.

The Zakera Ward C-Sec Precinct was a constant, suffocating chaos. Comms buzzed with overlapping voices. Officers shouted orders, filed reports, moved between desks at a breakneck pace. Holo-screens flashed active warrants, case files, crime reports – each one another reminder that the Citadel never slept, never slowed down.

Jace's fingers curled into fists at his sides. He didn't like standing still in places like this. It reminded him of waiting on deployment – watching the chaos move around him, knowing that eventually, he'd be dropped into it.

He should be moving, doing something.

Instead, he stood in a line with four other rookies, waiting.

Waiting.

He forced himself to breathe through it. He was a cop now, not a soldier. That was the difference, right? He wasn't an instrument for war. He was a man here of his own volition, ready to serve the people who needed

So why did it still feel like he was waiting for the next fight?

"Damn," someone muttered beside him. "Feels like a turian boot camp in here."

Leila Dawes, second rookie from the left, had her arms crossed, weight shifted onto one hip, expression caught somewhere between amusement and curiosity. She looked like she belonged here already. Like she'd grown up in the Wards, like the noise, the movement, the sheer weight of the job didn't even faze her.

Jace didn't know much about her yet, but he knew her type. Too sharp, too comfortable. The kind of officer who'd either be great at the job, or get caught breaking the rules before the year was out.

"Loud, disorganized, barely functioning?" Selyna T'Veyna smirked, arms crossed as she leaned against the desk beside her. "Sounds about right."

Jace glanced at her. The Asari was different. Obviously older, but still in her maiden stage, built like someone who'd seen real fights, moved like someone who wasn't afraid of another one. He wasn't sure why she'd even joined C-Sec – she had the posture of a merc, not a cop.

"You sure you signed up for the right gig?" Jace muttered, voice low enough for only her to hear.

Selyna shot him a sideways look, violet eyes flashing with something amused. "Oh, I'm in it for the pension."

"Right."

"Why'd you sign up, soldier boy?"

Jace's jaw tightened.

Because he didn't have anything else left. Because war had made him good at fighting but terrible at anything else. Because if he wasn't fighting for something, he didn't know how to live.

But he wasn't going to say that.

Instead, he looked away, eyes scanning the precinct, catching the other two rookies standing stiff beside him.

Cassian Solvaris. Turian, sharp posture, perfectly polished armor, carrying himself like he was still fresh out of the Academy. He looked too clean, like he expected this to be another training exercise. Like he thought the rules would keep him safe.

And beside him, Nyxara Vakoris. Another Turian, quieter, smaller, her armor less pristine. She had analyst eyes – calculating, watchful, like she was already ahead of the game. Jace got the feeling she'd seen more than she let on.

Before he could process that thought, a door slammed open at the back of the room.

The energy in the precinct shifted immediately. Every officer near the bullpen instinctively straightened, or at least moved with purpose. The volume didn't drop, but it sharpened, tightened, like no one wanted to be caught slacking.

Jace recognized the weight of command before he even saw him.

And then, Captain Armando Bailey stepped into the room.

His uniform jacket was unfastened at the collar, the sleeves pushed up just enough to show the tired set of his forearms, the kind of exhaustion that had sunk into muscle memory. His face was older than Jace had expected. Not in years, but in the way that experience had settled deep into the lines around his mouth and eyes, like the Citadel had worn him down but hadn't beaten him yet.

Bailey moved through the precinct like a storm no one wanted to be caught in. Officers cleared a path without hesitation, but not because they feared him. They respected him.

Jace took note – that meant something.

He'd met a lot of officers who wanted authority. Bailey looked like a man who had never wanted it, but carried it anyway.

His gaze flicked over the bullpen once, then locked directly onto them. And just like that, Jace and the rest of the rookies were pinned under the weight of scrutiny sharp enough to carve through steel.

Bailey stopped in front of them, expression unreadable. "This isn't the military," he said. "This isn't the Presidium."

Jace's spine straightened on instinct – decades of conditioning kicking in before he even realized it.

"This is Zakera Ward," Bailey continued. "You screw up here, and people die."

Jace clenched his jaw. Bailey's eyes locked onto him first. Because of course they did.

Jace knew what he looked like. Military bearing. Too stiff. Too sharp. The kind of guy who thought he already knew how to handle himself. The kind of rookie Bailey had probably seen before – the kind who didn't last.

Jace met his gaze without blinking. For a second, Bailey just studied him. And then, his jaw shifted – just slightly. Not approval. Not respect.

Recognition.

Like he had seen this story before, knew exactly how it ended.

Jace exhaled through his nose, tension locking deep in his chest. He wasn't here to be a soldier anymore. He wasn't here to fight a war. But in Bailey's eyes, he already looked like a man who didn't know how to be anything else.

Bailey didn't say anything else to him. He just looked back at the squad and sighed. "You want to help people?" he said. "Good. You want to clean up the streets? Even better." His tone dropped lower. Sharper. "But let me make something real clear – you're not heroes. You're cops."

The words hit harder than they should have. Heroes didn't survive in places like this. And Jace had spent years being a hero.

He was still trying to figure out if he survived it.

Bailey exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face like he was already regretting most of this squad's existence. "Alright," he muttered. "Pairing you up for patrols."

Jace barely had time to process before Bailey started listing names.

"Wilcox and Dawes."

He glanced to his right, where Leila smirked like she had just won a bet. "Try to keep up, soldier boy," she murmured.

Jace gritted his teeth. He had worked with a lot of different people over the years. No-nonsense officers, Alliance tactical squads, entire military divisions.

Leila had the posture of someone who never took anything seriously – but still managed to get away with everything. That meant she was either brilliant, reckless, or a pain in the ass.

Jace was betting on all three.

"Solvaris and Vakoris."

Cassian didn't even flinch. He just turned to Nyxara with a small, familiar smirk. "Guess we're stuck together again."

Nyxara snorted softly, shaking her head. "And here I thought I'd finally gotten rid of you."

Bailey gave them a flat, unimpressed look. "Glad you two were buddies back at the academy, but this is the real world. You think you know each other? You'll realize you don't."

Nyxara tilted her head slightly, scanning Cassian like she already knew exactly how this was going to go.

Cassian, oblivious to the judgment, clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, Vakoris. First day, fresh start, new adventures."

Nyxara sighed heavily, like she was already exhausted by him. "I swear to spirits, if you get shot, I'm leaving you there."

Cassian just grinned. "Noted."

Bailey turned his attention to the last remaining rookie. "T'Veyna."

Selyna stretched her arms over her head, looking supremely unbothered by the fact that she was the only one left unpaired. "I work better alone."

Bailey exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering something under his breath that Jace was pretty sure included at least two curses. "Fine. But you screw up, you're running solo paperwork too."

Selyna grinned. "Oh no. The horror."

Jace resisted the urge to sigh. They weren't even out the door yet, and this was already a disaster.

Bailey checked his omni-tool. "The Wards don't work like the Academy. People here don't care about your potential. Get to work."

And just like that, the squad was officially in the field.

The Wards felt different from the rest of the Citadel.

Jace had known that already – But walking these streets in C-Sec blues? That was something else entirely.

The Presidium was all polished floors, quiet voices, and wealth. The Wards were too loud, too fast, too much all at once.

Neon lights flickered against walls marked by old blaster scarring. Music spilled from clubs and dive bars, mixing with the scent of street food, burning coolant, and exhaust from the lower levels. People moved like they didn't have time to stop – because in the Wards, stopping meant becoming a target.

Jace felt eyes on them. Not openly hostile – just watching. Measuring.

He ignored it. He was used to being watched.

The part he wasn't used to?

The partner at his side.

Leila moved like she'd walked this beat a thousand times already. She wasn't stiff like a rookie, wasn't overly cautious like someone who had something to prove. Her stride was loose, hands tucked into her pockets, her head tilting slightly as she took in the flow of the streets.

She wasn't on patrol. She was blending in. Jace had seen people walk like that before.

Not cops.

Leila smirked like she could read his thoughts. "You're thinking too hard, soldier boy."

Jace kept his expression unreadable. "And you're not thinking hard enough."

She scoffed, amused. "Relax. Nobody's gonna knife you in broad daylight."

"Sounds like you've got a lot of faith in people."

Leila chuckled under her breath. "Sounds like you don't."

Jace didn't answer.

Because she was right.

His eyes flicked to her, watching as she moved just a little too comfortably through these streets. She was reading the terrain like someone who already knew it. "You from here?" he asked.

Leila's smirk stayed, but something behind it shuttered. "Been around," she said vaguely.

That was an answer that wasn't an answer.

Jace filed that away.

They walked in silence for another block, the tension settling into something else. Not easy. Not comfortable. But not entirely unfamiliar, either.

But then the din of the wards was broken by sharp shouting. Jace's head snapped up.

Two figures in the alley just ahead – voices raised, tempers flaring. One shove, then another. It was escalating.

Before he could react, Leila was already moving. "Hey, hey," she called out, stepping into the alley, hands up in a casual but practiced gesture.

Jace held back, watching. If she could defuse it cleanly, he'd let her.

But the taller guy didn't de-escalate. He sneered, glanced Leila up and down, and rolled his shoulders like he was barely tolerating her presence. "Look at this – C-Sec sending pretty little things to talk down a fight now?"

Leila didn't react. Didn't stiffen, didn't show irritation.

Jace, however, felt his teeth grind together.

Then the guy moved. Fast.

Not at her. Not yet. But his hand twitched toward his coat – toward something in his pocket. Jace had seen that movement before.

It was never just a pocket.

That was all the provocation he needed.

He closed the distance in a second, grabbed the guy by the back of his collar, and slammed him against the alley wall. The force of it rattled the bricks.

Leila whipped around. "What the hell – ?"

Jace ignored her. "You think we're here to babysit?" he asked, voice low, practical.

The guy started struggling immediately. "Hey – what the hell, man! I wasn't even – "

The second man – the one who had been arguing – reacted instantly. "Get off him!" He moved forward, half raising a fist, then hesitating.

Leila stepped between them, palms up. "Hey, don't be stupid – "

But it was too late. The taller guy shoved back against Jace. He reacted with a soldier's instinct, flipping him around, arm locking behind his back before he could get a proper swing in.

Leila cursed under her breath. The situation had changed now – no longer an argument.

Now it was resisting arrest.

The taller man struggled instantly, cursing as Jace shoved him further into the alley wall, securing the hold before he could gain leverage. The weight of years of training settled into Jace's movements – efficient, controlled, final.

Not an opening. Not an option to fight back. Just an ending. The second guy – his friend, drinking buddy, whatever the hell he was – made a snap decision.

A bad one.

"Hey – get the hell off him!"

The guy lunged.

Jace started to shift – he could handle both of them if he had to. But Leila was already there. She moved fast – faster than he expected. A sharp hook to the jaw, a twist of her foot for leverage, and the second guy stumbled into the alley wall with a pained grunt.

Jace barely had a second to register it before his suspect started thrashing again. He wrenched against Jace's hold, but Jace had already adjusted – locked his weight forward, forced his knee into the guy's lower back.

The bastard wasn't going anywhere, but that didn't stop him from running his mouth – directing a steady stream of expletives at Jace, at Leila, at anyone who'd listen. "You have the right to shut the hell up," Jace muttered, pulling a set of cuffs from his belt.

The guy struggled harder. "I wasn't even – !"

Jace yanked his arm back tighter. "Go ahead, resist harder. Let's see how that works out for you."

Leila's glare cut through the alley. "Oh yeah, because threatening him is gonna make this easier."

Jace ignored her. He had the situation under control.

Leila didn't seem to care. She turned, shaking her head as she reached for her own cuffs. Her suspect was still dazed against the alley wall, one hand clutching his jaw where she'd clocked him.

She grabbed his wrist and started guiding his arms behind his back, voice easy, controlled. "Okay, let's not make this worse for you," she said. No mocking, no force. Just calm, almost casual. "You cooperate, we get this done fast, you get to keep most of your dignity."

Jace huffed quietly. "You're making deals now?"

"I'm getting compliance," she shot back, voice low.

Jace didn't have time to argue – his suspect was still struggling. "Hey, what the hell are you doing?" the guy snapped at Leila, still shifting under Jace's hold. "You saw what happened! He jumped me!"

Jace tightened his grip. "You were about to pull something from your coat."

The man froze for half a second. Then he scoffed. "I was pulling out my damn omni-tool."

Leila shot Jace a sharp look. "That true, soldier boy? You saw a gun, or you just assumed?"

Jace ignored the heat in his chest. "I saw a guy start a fight, act aggressive, and reach into his coat when C-Sec showed up," he said flatly. "That's enough for me."

Leila's expression didn't shift. But something behind her eyes did.

She didn't say anything else.

Jace locked the cuffs in place, felt the tension bleed out of the fight the second metal clicked over wrists. The man huffed out a breath, shoulders sagging under Jace's hold.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get this over with."

Jace shoved him forward, guiding him toward the main street where their transport was already pulling up. Leila pushed her suspect along beside them, walking a step ahead of Jace.

She didn't look at him. Didn't say a word. But Jace could feel the tension still simmering between them.

This wasn't just about the arrest.

This was about how they did their jobs.

And this wasn't the last time they were going to fight about it.