The case didn't let up. If anything, it only got more tangled, more political, more frustrating. Which meant that Leila and Andre spent more time together.
Late nights at the precinct, combing through reports. Slow mornings over too-strong coffee, running down leads that never went anywhere. Cross-referencing records, chasing whispers, trying to pull the right thread before everything unraveled.
Leila had worked herself to the bone before. Had pulled long hours, lost sleep, lived in the haze of chasing something just out of reach. But this was different. Because this time. she wasn't doing it alone.
Jasso never questioned her, never made her fight for her place.
Jace had always figured Leila thrived on the fight. But now he wasn't so sure. And he didn't like what that meant.
It wasn't like she was ignoring him. Not really.
But when she was working the case, when she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Jasso, trading ideas, laughing at something he said in that easy, effortless way, Jace felt something twist inside him.
Something sharp. Something he wasn't ready to name.
Because this wasn't jealousy. It wasn't.
It was just…
Something else.
And whatever it was, Jace knew one thing for sure.
He really, really hated it.
The investigation had hit a wall.
For all the work they had put in, they still had nothing concrete on the assassin. Every lead ran into red tape, dead ends, or political hand-waving. Bailey wanted them to proceed carefully. Follow the process.
Selyna had no patience for that.
While the others were still combing through reports and surveillance gaps, waiting for authorization to move forward, she'd done what she always did – found a faster way.
Which is how she ended up alone, outside a run-down safehouse in the Wards.
Waiting wasn't what she did. Waiting meant losing time. Losing momentum. Letting this bastard slip through C-Sec's fingers just like the last one. So she moved.
Alone.
The hallways smelled like stale air and cheap cleaner, the kind of place that had seen too many bodies and not enough questions. She kept her sidearm low, her steps silent, listening for movement. The closer she got to the target unit, the heavier the quiet became.
That was the first sign.
She ignored it.
She reached the door, omni-tool flashing as she began overriding the lock. She didn't think twice when it took a little longer than it should have. Didn't register it as a mistake.
Not until the last bar filled –
And the first explosion went off.
The blast wasn't big enough to kill. That wasn't the point. The point was distraction. Confusion. Selyna barely had time to roll clear before the room filled with smoke.
Shit.
A trap. And she'd walked right into it.
She heard footsteps moving – fast. By the time she pushed through the haze, she saw the assassin's silhouette disappearing down a stairwell.
She raised her gun. Pulled the trigger. The shot hit the wall just behind him.
She ran.
He was prepared. She wasn't.
Every turn, every route he took, it was like he knew exactly where she'd be. Like he'd rehearsed this. Like this was his plan, not hers.
She was fast. He was faster. By the time she cleared the alley behind the complex, all that was left was the sound of an engine roaring away, a vehicle already lost in the chaos of the Wards.
Gone.
She let out a harsh breath, furious. Furious at him. At herself. At the fact that, once again, C-Sec looked incompetent.
Backup arrived three minutes too late.
Jace was the first to step out of his cruiser, scanning the scene before his eyes landed on her. She could see the frustration already settling into his stance. She exhaled sharply, holstering her gun. "Don't say it."
Jace just ran a hand down his face. "You had one job, T'Veyna."
Yeah.
And she'd just fucked it up.
The precinct conference room felt too small. It wasn't, of course. The walls weren't closing in, the air wasn't thinning, and there was plenty of space for everyone seated around the table. But the silence was suffocating.
Bailey stood at the head of the room, arms crossed, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel. Selyna sat across from him, jaw tight, staring straight ahead. She knew what was coming. The squad knew what was coming. And Bailey was just getting started.
"You're not a merc anymore, T'Veyna." His voice was low. Controlled. Somehow worse than yelling. "You don't get to play vigilante on my watch."
The words landed like a punch. Not because she didn't expect them. But because, for once, she had nothing to fire back with.
Bailey placed both hands on the table, leaning in slightly. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"
Selyna's fingers curled into fists against her thighs. "I thought I could – "
Bailey cut her off. "Yeah, that's the problem. You thought. But you didn't think far enough. You didn't think about jurisdiction, about chain of command, about what happens when C-Sec officers start ignoring protocol because they feel like it.*"
She ground her teeth. "I had the right location."
Bailey straightened, exhaling sharply. "And now it's useless."
The weight of the words hung there.
She knew he was right. She knew she had screwed the op, lost the best lead they had, and made them all look like amateurs. But knowing didn't make it easier to accept.
Knowing didn't make the frustration go away. Didn't make her hate the rules any less. Didn't make her stop wishing she'd gotten to that bastard before he disappeared into the night.
Bailey exhaled through his nose, glancing around the room. "Anybody else feel like doing something reckless today?"
No one spoke. The silence stretched.
Then, finally, Bailey nodded.
"Then get out."
Chairs scraped against the floor as the squad stood, everyone moving fast to put distance between themselves and the storm still brewing behind Bailey's eyes.
Selyna didn't move right away. Didn't look at anyone. Just sat there, staring at the surface of the table like it might have answers she hadn't thought of yet.
She knew she'd screwed it up.
She just hated having to admit it.
The squad reconvened in one of the precinct's war rooms – a dimly lit, holoscreen-lined space meant for detectives and high-level investigations.
Jace wasn't used to being in a room like this. It was the kind of place where brass made decisions and everyone else followed orders. But tonight?
Tonight, it was just them. And Jace wasn't leaving without an answer.
Leila leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Cassian stood at the terminal, cycling through security logs on the central holo-display. Nyxara sat at the end of the table, barely listening, fingers moving across her omni-tool, checking for any residual digital footprints. Andre stood near the front of the room, watching the others, posture relaxed but focused.
Jace was pacing. Thinking. Processing.
Something wasn't adding up. Not the security breach. Not the hit. Not the assassin. Something else was missing.
Leila sighed. "Alright, so let's review."
"Let's not," Jace muttered, stopping mid-stride. He turned toward the holo-display, eyes locked on the crime scene images, the security footage, the assassin's escape route. "We're missing the point."
Cassian frowned. "What point?"
Jace pointed at the screen. "This guy. The shooter. He was good, yeah? Too good?"
Leila raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."
"I don't," Jace shot back. "And that's the problem. This guy didn't act alone."
The silence in the room shifted. Not a full stop. Not yet. But a hesitation. A moment where they all started seeing what he was seeing.
Jace pressed forward. "Everything about this hit was deliberate. The security manipulation, the lack of evidence, the fact that he knew exactly when and where to strike."
Cassian's brow furrowed. "We already knew that."
"No, we assumed that," Jace corrected. "We assumed he was a professional, working solo. But that's not it." He pointed to the logs Nyxara had decrypted. "He had inside access. He knew the system. And when he ran, he wasn't running blind – he had an exit plan."
Nyxara nodded slowly. "Someone was feeding him intel."
"Exactly." Jace slapped a hand down on the table to emphasize the point. "We've been soending all our time looking for the killer. But we need to start looking for the person who hired him."
The room went quiet again. Not uncertain. Just processing.
Leila looked at the screen, her expression unreadable. "Well. Shit."
Cassian exhaled through his nose. "That...complicates things."
Nyxara barely looked up from her omni-tool. "It also means we're in deeper than we thought."
"Nothing new there," Jace muttered.
Andre, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke. "Good work."
Jace blinked.
Andre's gaze was steady, measured. Not sarcastic, not patronizing – just honest. "That's a strong deduction, Wilcox. You put the pieces together before the rest of us. That's good work."
Jace didn't know what to do with that. He wasn't used to being the one getting the nod of approval. Especially not from someone like Jasso.
It wasn't like he cared. Not really. It was just...weird.
Leila smirked at Jace, eyes glinting in amusement. "Look at that. You got a compliment. You gonna frame it?"
Jace scowled. "Shut up, Dawes."
Andre glanced around the room, then at the clock. It was late. Too late to chase ghosts. They had a direction now. A bigger target. A bigger problem. But right now? Right now, they needed to step back.
He smirked slightly. "But first, I think we've all earned a drink."
Leila exhaled, grinning as she pushed back from the table. "I knew I liked you, Detective."
Cassian sighed, rubbing his temples. "That's your love language? Alcohol?"
Nyxara didn't even look up from her omni-tool. "Pretty much."
Jace grabbed his jacket, still thinking, still running through the possibilities in his head. A handler. An employer. Someone pulling strings.
But that could wait.
For now, the Blue Line was calling.