~Adrian Cole~

The call came in before sunrise.

It wasn’t urgency that pulled me out of bed.

It was the tone.

Short. Controlled. No speculation.

Seventeen confirmed.

That was enough.

By the time we reached the warehouse, the sky hadn’t decided what it wanted to be.

Night or morning.

The place was already sealed.

Uniforms at the perimeter. Quiet radios. No chaos.

Too clean for something this big.

I ducked under the tape.

The air hit first.

Not strong.

Not overwhelming.

Just… wrong.

Like something had been disturbed and then carefully put back together.

“Seventeen,” Marcus said beside me, voice low. “All inside.”

I nodded once.

“Connections?”

“Preliminary says drug distribution. Mid-level."

Seventeen bodies for mid-level?

Didn’t fit.

Inside, the silence pressed harder.

Not empty.

Heavy.

They weren’t scattered.

That was the first thing.

They were… placed.

No signs of struggle spreading across the room.

No overturned chaos.

Just impact.

Fast. Controlled.

I crouched near the closest one.

Gunshot wound.

Precise.

Not hesitation.

A few steps away

Another body.

Different.

Closer contact.

A blade, maybe.

Still precise. Efficient.

I straightened.

“Mixed methods,” I said.

Marcus nodded. “But consistent intent.”

Exactly.

That was the problem.

“Scene’s too clean.”

I didn't turn. I knew who it was.

Iris stepped in, already gloved, observing everything like she’d been here longer than the rest of us.

She didn’t look at the bodies first.

She looked at the space between them.

“No defensive clustering. Minimal displacement.” she continued.

Her eyes moved, sharp, calculating.

“This wasn’t a firefight.”

“What was it?” I asked.

She met my gaze.

“A sequence.”

That sat wrong.

I moved deeper inside.

Different wounds. Same intent.

No hesitation.

Seventeen people.

No mistakes.

No escalation.

Same intent.

This wasn’t anger.

This was control.

"Cole.”

I turned toward the entrance.

Noah stood just outside the taped line, already talking on his phone.

Of course he was here.

“Bit early for a statement, don’t you think?” I said.

He smirked. “Public likes to wake up informed.”

“Public likes half-truths,” Marcus muttered.

Noah ignored him.

“They’re calling it a gang wipe,” he said. “Sounds clean. Simple.”

I looked back at the room.

Clean wasn’t the word I’d use.

“No,” I said. “It’s not.”

Noah tilted his head slightly.

Interested now.

“Then what is it?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t have one yet.

Hours blurred.

Photos.

Measurements.

Statements.

Fragments that didn’t fit together cleanly.

Interrogations started early. 

Associates. Contacts. Anyone connected.

Most of them said the same thing.

Nothing.

Or worse.

they thought they knew something.

“They didn’t expect it,” Marcus said after the third interview. “None of them.”

“Seventeen people don’t just sit and wait,” I replied.

“Exactly.”

Inside, Iris was still moving.

Still scanning.

Still pulling invisible threads.

“Adrian.”

I walked over.

She pointed, not at a body, but at the ground near one.

“A mark.”

I frowned. “That’s it?”

“It shouldn’t be there,” she states.

That was enough.

“What does it mean?”

She shook her head slightly.

“Not sure yet.”

A pause.

“But whoever did this… they don’t improvise.”

By late afternoon, the light had shifted.

Long shadows stretched across the warehouse floor, cutting through the stillness.

Most of the team had pulled back.

Scene processing nearly done.

I stepped outside. The air felt different.

Or i needed it to.

That’s when I felt it.

Not a sound.

Not movement.

Just attention.

I turned slowly.

Scanning.

Nothing obvious.

Just people. Officers. Tape.vDistance.

Then...

Her.

Across the street.

Partially obscured.

Still.

Watching.

Focused.

She wasn't looking at the warehouse.

She was looking at me.

Our eyes met. Just for a moment.

She didn’t flinch.

I crossed the street. Fast.

She didn’t move.

That was the first thing that didn’t fit.

My hand caught her wrist.

Nothing changed. No panick. No hesitation.

Just...stillness. Control.

That hit something in my head.

“You’ve been standing there a while.”

“No,” she said calmly. “I just got here.”

Smooth.

Too ready.

She didn’t look like someone who belonged anywhere near a scene like this.

Everyone looked shaken, trying to look inside.

She didn't.

She hadn't even glanced past me.

“Name." 

Her gaze held mine.

Not defiant.

Not submissive.

Just… steady.

And something about that-

something small, locked into place.

“Vivienne,” she said.

The name settled heavier than it should have.

Behind me, I heard Marcus approaching.

Questions.

Procedures.

Noise.

But I didn’t look away from her.

Because something in my head

quiet, sharp, had already shifted.

Everyone else looked at what was there.

I looked at what wasn’t.

And she didn’t fit.

This wasn’t coincidence.

It was intentional.