Victoria’s face tightened, color rising high on her cheekbones, but her voice stayed rigid. “You’re crossing a line.”
“Yeah? Maybe I am,” Isabel shot back, stepping closer to the desk. “But at least I’m not hiding behind rank and icy glares, pretending none of it matters. Because it does, Victoria. It damn well does.”
For a heartbeat, Victoria’s mask slipped. The panic Isabel had glimpsed in the bullpen flickered again—raw and unguarded. Then it was gone, replaced by steel. “You need to control yourself, Torres. This reckless outburst—it’s exactly why I didn’t want you on this case in the first place.”
The words hit like a punch. Isabel’s chest burned, fury tangling with hurt so sharp she couldn’t untangle them. “You don’t want me here?” she asked, her voice rough. “Then say it. Say you don’t want me here.”
Victoria’s hands flattened on the desk, her knuckles pale. Her jaw flexed before she finally spoke. “Fine. You want the truth? I don’t want you here.”
The words landed like a slap. They rang false—Isabel could see it in the flicker of hesitation, the way Victoria’s eyes dartedaway for the briefest second—but the fact that she’d said them at all cut deeper than silence ever could.
Heat roared in Isabel’s chest, rising until it broke loose. “You don’t want me here?” Her voice pitched higher, anger cracking through. “Good. Because I sure as hell don’t want to be anywhere near you, either!”
Her voice carried, sharp and loud enough that heads were already turning outside the glass. “This place, this—” she threw her hand toward the bullpen, “—all of it. You can have it, Victoria. You can keep your control and your walls and your perfect little mask. I’m done.”
She snatched the file off the desk, her movements jagged and violent with fury. “You want me gone? Watch me.”
Isabel yanked the office door open with a force that rattled the frame. Conversations in the bullpen faltered, eyes darting up, following her as she stormed through. The phones still rang, keyboards still clattered, but under it all, the hush of held breaths pressed in around her.
She didn’t slow. Didn’t glance back. Her boots struck hard against the polished floor, carrying her through the maze of desks, past the wide-eyed rookies and the seasoned detectives who knew better than to get in her way. The fluorescent lights glared down, the hum of the precinct pounding in her skull until it felt unbearable.
And then she shoved through the front doors into the cool air outside, the noise and brightness of the bullpen swallowed behind her.
The slam of the doors echoed like finality.
Isabel sat on the edge of her couch, a bottle of beer sweating in her hand, the glow from the muted TV casting shadows across the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She’d beenstaring at them for twenty minutes, wondering if it was worth even bothering. Leave them closed, she thought. Easier that way. Who knew if Phoenix Ridge was worth unpacking for?
She tipped back the bottle, swallowing warm beer gone flat. The fight at the precinct still rang in her head, Victoria’s words replaying like a broken record:I don’t want you here.They were a lie, and Isabel knew it. But they hurt like truth.
The knock at her door startled her so hard she nearly dropped the bottle. She frowned, setting it down before padding across the room. When she pulled the door open, every thought drained clean out of her.
Victoria stood there.
Her posture was stiff, but her face was another story. The captain’s usual immaculate poise had cracked. Her eyes were red-rimmed, mascara smudged faintly beneath them. Even her hair seemed less perfectly arranged, a strand falling across her cheek.
Isabel’s mouth went dry. She stepped aside automatically, unable to form words. Victoria moved past her into the small apartment, the faint scent of rain and perfume clinging to her jacket.
“I…” Victoria’s voice faltered. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I came to apologize. For earlier. For saying I didn’t want you on this case.” Her words were clipped, rehearsed, her hands flexing at her sides as though she wanted to wring them. “That was uncalled for. You’re a good detective, Torres. You belong here.”
Isabel blinked at her, still too stunned to find her footing. The silence stretched until she finally managed flatly, “Is that all?”
Victoria’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” Isabel crossed her arms, holding her ground. “Is that all you came here to say?”
Victoria hesitated. Her gaze slipped, and for a moment Isabel swore she saw her flinch. But then the captain mask slid back into place. “Yes,” she said, steady but hollow. “That’s all.”
Something in Isabel hardened. She moved to the door and pulled it open. “Then you should go. You clearly said everything you needed to say already, right?”
For once, Victoria didn’t move. She just stood there, frozen, staring at Isabel as if the ground had dropped away beneath her. The mask crumbled. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Her chest rose and fell too fast, and suddenly her eyes filled.
When the tears spilled over, she snapped.
“Goddammit, Torres!” Victoria’s voice cracked, raw and ragged.
Isabel’s chest seized. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but stare at the woman breaking down in front of her.
Victoria’s voice shook as she pushed forward, every word raw. “You don’t get it, Torres. You make me lose control. I don’t lose control.” Her fists tightened at her sides, tears cutting dark tracks under her eyes. “I tried to keep it professional. I tried to pretend it was just the job. But you—” she jabbed a trembling finger toward Isabel, her breath hitching, “—you made melike you. More than I should. More than as a coworker.”
