Gerald opened his mouth, ready to snap back, ready to remind this smug twenty-something that a last name, even that one, wasn’t a magic shield. But Christopher tilted his head, eyes glittering like someone watching a puppet show only he understood.“You do know attempted assassination is a federal offense,” Gerald pushed, gripping his pen so tightly the plastic creaked. “You don’t get special treatment because you share DNA with powerful people. If anything, it makes everything ten times worse.”Christopher chuckled. A low, delighted sound, like Gerald had just told him the punchline of a joke no one sane would laugh at.“That’s adorable,” he murmured as though trying to deliberately annoy officer Gerald.And there was something about the way he was doing it that made Gerald wonder what exactly he was up to.With the case of Harry still left unattended to, dealing with young adults had suddenly become the trending kinds of cases and with this Christopher who was claiming to now be an

For a brief moment, Gerald's fingers twitched at his side, his mind wrestling between protocol and panic. Every instinct screamed at him to stall, to regain footing but every fiber of law in him knew that Ava was right. If the footage was real, the chain of custody had to be airtight.Ava was smart, and he could tell that she was because only a smart lawyer would make the request that she had just made, and it was a reason to be dreadful of her.And so, with visible reluctance, he reached for the receiver on the desk beside the wall. His voice came out in fragments, strained, and cracking at the edges.“Control… this is Inspector Gerald Seth. Patch me through to Internal Affairs.” He requested in a single long breath.The line hissed for a second before a voice answered, crisp and wary. “Internal Affairs, Director’s Office. Go ahead.”Gerald took a deep breath, but his words trembled. “I’m ordering an immediate audit on a high-level interrogation. Evidence presented by defense coun

Silence pooled between Chance and Cliffor Hills, as though some invisible external force had induced it. Clifford watched Chance carefully, reading the truth in the stillness, in the way Chance had refused to speak, almost revealing the faint flicker of guilt buried behind his eyes.That was answer enough for him as far as he was concerned and he was concerned having being in the legal system for quite some time.Clifford exhaled slowly, almost like he’d just been handed a live grenade. “Then we have a problem bigger than the Acherlands,” he murmured.And just before Chance could respond, his phone lit up and buzzed sharply against the desk.And it was Chloe calling making him remember that since the last time that they both saw each other, they had neither no spoken to or heard from each other again.He hesitated for half a second before answering. “Chloe?”Her voice on the other end was strained, like she’d been pacing for a while. “Chance… can we meet? Please. It’s important.”Chan

Chance arrived at the quiet café Chloe had chosen, tucked between two shuttered bookstores like a secret wedged between forgotten pages. The evening light settled in long amber stripes across the pavement, and Chloe sat outside, elbows on the table, her posture taut enough to snap.As he approached, she lifted her eyes briefly, then looked back down as if anchoring herself. He pulled out the empty chair beside her and sat.“Alright,” he said, going straight to the point. “What did you need to talk about?”Chloe didn’t waste a second as she unlocked her phone, tapped her gallery, and pushed the screen toward him. A wide shot of a tourist site filled the frame: colorful umbrellas along a bridge, a crowd, water glittering behind them.Chance squinted. “Chloe… I don’t understand. What am I supposed to be looking at?”She didn’t answer. Instead, she zoomed in.And the world seemed to tilt the moment Chance’s eyes caught hold of what Chloe wanted him to see,Because right there stood Prime

The sound of engines rumbled across the courtyard as the federal convoy pulled into the CSSA compound. Black armored trucks, their insignias marked with the Federal Internal Affairs crest, lined up in perfect formation. Armed escorts in tactical gear surrounded a single, reinforced transport van—inside it, Christopher O’Connor sat silently, wrists shackled, his expression stoic and firm as though none of what was happening in that instant was of any concern to him.Gerald watched from the top floor through the reinforced glass as the men outside began the transfer protocol. The air felt heavy with inevitability. He had tried to reason, to delay, to call in favors—but every line of communication had been cut cleanly. Internal Affairs had moved too quickly.Something wasn’t just right, and he could tell it. But what exactly it is that wasn’t right, that he didn’t know. But with the pace at which the internal affairs were handling everything, it was just enough for him to know that Chri