Jason navigated the winding hospital corridors, pulling his phone from his pocket to dial Colman’s number. He needed to find out which cafeteria the lovesick idiot had wandered off to so they could finally leave the premises.As Jason rounded the sharp corner toward the main elevator banks, a heavy shoulder suddenly slammed hard into his chest.Jason stumbled back a half-step, smoothly regaining his balance as his eyes flashed up.Detective Vance stood there, his trench coat rumpled and his face flushed with the boiling frustration of a man who had just spent the last hour chasing a phantom Jane Doe through layers of medical bureaucracy."Watch where you're—" Vance started to bark, but the words died in his throat.The detective froze, his sharp eyes locking onto Jason's face. In a fraction of a second, the gears in Vance's head violently clicked into place. The perfectly timed bureaucratic trap downstairs. The sudden disappearance of his suspect. And now, Jason Pike—the “Innocent” co

Inside a cramped, stuffy office at the Silverbridge Police Precinct, Detective Vance stood rigidly at attention.He was facing Captain Brad, a stern, middle-aged man seated behind a massive mahogany desk. Vance couldn't bring himself to look his commanding officer in the eye. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind the desk, which was heavily decorated with framed photos of the Captain shaking hands with the President, the Governor, the City Mayor, and various other political elites. Beside the photos hung a gaudy display of commendation medals."I told you this case was closed, and yet you still went out of your way to harass a victim in intensive care?" Brad barked, his face flushed with anger. "Are you that desperate for a promotion, Vance? That you would start disregarding human lives and medical protocols just to prove some wild conspiracy theory right?""Sir, it wasn't like that," Vance said evenly, refusing to blink. "I noticed a new lead and decided to follow it. We are

Inside one of the Godfather’s secure safe houses, Antonio sat heavily in a plush leather armchair while a beautiful young nurse carefully wrapped a thick, blood-soaked bandage around his arm.The dimly lit room was packed with heavily armed men. Several of them sported fresh cuts and gunshot grazes, most of which had already been hastily patched up by the nurse."Have you done the headcount?" Antonio grunted through the pain, glaring up at one of his lieutenants. "How many enforcers have we lost so far?""We only lost two men dead, boss," the enforcer replied grimly. "But five of our injured guys couldn't escape the premises before the police locked down the perimeter. Tiger Boss managed to slip out, and he went back to his city immediately."The enforcer hesitated for a second, shifting his weight. "He is already suspecting us of a setup, sir. But given the severity of his injuries, he won't be able to investigate or retaliate for at least six months.""Fine," Antonio sneered, his go

"We need to move," Jason said quietly, not bothering to explain why.Across the crowded lounge, Anastasia’s cold eyes were locked onto him. The exact second she realized Jason had spotted her, she smoothly averted her gaze, looking back down at her table. But Jason wasn't about to take any chances with an unknown foreign operative."Why? This is the best part, bro," Colman whined, refusing to stand up. His gaze never left the center stage where Lana was performing.Jason let out a faint, amused smile. "Oh, you're obsessed with her? I have her contact. I can arrange it if you want to hook up."Colman finally tore his eyes away from the glittering stage, looking up in absolute shock."Wait, how do you have her number?" Colman asked, his eyes wide. "Did she slip it to you just now when she came over to the booth?""Or are you one of her regulars?" Charlotte interrupted. Her eyes narrowed, clear jealousy lacing her voice. "Was that the real reason she was over here dancing all over you?"

The incessant drumming of rain against the cheap glass window was the only sound inside Detective Vance’s cramped, dimly lit apartment.He sat at a cluttered kitchen table, nursing a glass of cheap, amber whiskey. His tie was loosened, his shoulder holster discarded over the back of a wooden chair, and his eyes were bloodshot from three consecutive days without sleep.Across the room, pinned directly to the peeling wallpaper, was a makeshift murder board. It was a chaotic, sprawling web of red string, crime scene photos from the university bombing, and redacted gang files.But right in the center, bathed in the harsh, focused glow of a single desk lamp, was a blurry surveillance printout of a seemingly ordinary college student: Jason."Drop the case, Vance," his Captain had ordered just hours earlier, the undeniable stench of cartel bribery practically radiating off the man. "The hospital blackout was a localized grid failure. The university gang violence is federal jurisdiction now.