Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but her focus drifted, unspooling in ways she hadn’t let herself in years. She caught herself smiling at nothing, at no one—just the memory of Isabel’s lips against hers that morning, the warmth of her body curled against her.
Without thinking, she raised her hand to her mouth, brushing her fingertips over her lips as though she could still feel Isabel there. A low exhale slipped from her chest.
She shouldn’t have been surprised. Isabel Torres was young, bold, reckless—the kind of detective who threw herself at danger headfirst. But the way she looked at Victoria, the way she wanted her with such fire and certainty… Victoria had never imagined someone like Isabel would choose her. Not with her walls, her age, her scars. And yet, she had.
And Victoria liked it. More than she dared admit even to herself.
The shrill ring of her desk phone cut through her reverie, jolting her back into her chair. She cleared her throat, straightening, pressing the smile from her face before lifting the receiver.
“Captain Langley.”
A pause, then the automated operator voice:You have a collect call from Phoenix Ridge State Correctional Facility. Do you accept the charges?
Victoria’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
The line clicked, static hissing for a moment before a familiar, nervous voice came through.
“Captain? It’s me. Listen—I heard the cabin was empty when you got there.” The words tumbled out fast, tight with panic. “But I swear to you, I didn’t lie. I told you everything I knew. No one outside the syndicate even knew about that cabin.”
Victoria leaned back in her chair, her hand tightening around the receiver. “Calm down. Start from the beginning.”
“I—I just… I’ve been hearing things. In here.” The woman’s breath hitched, as though she kept glancing over her shoulder. “People talking about a dirty cop. Somebody in the syndicate’s pocket. I don’t know who, but they said it’s someone close to you.”
Victoria’s spine went rigid. Her free hand curled into a fist against the desk. “Do you have a name?”
“No. Just… just whispers. But enough to scare me.” The informant’s voice cracked. “I gave you that tip because I wanted out. I wanted the deal you offered me. Don’t let them say I played you. I didn’t. You have to believe me.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened, the weight of her words pressing in like a vise. “I hear you. Stay safe. And if you hear anything else—anything—you call me immediately.”
“Yes, Captain.” Relief and fear tangled in the woman’s tone. The line clicked dead.
Victoria lowered the receiver slowly, staring at the phone as though it might ring again. Her pulse thudded heavy in her ears. A dirty cop. Someone close.
Her eyes flicked toward the glass wall of her office, scanning the bullpen beyond—the detectives at their desks, the steady rhythm of her department at work.
And for the first time in years, she felt a chill settle in her chest.
Victoria didn’t let the silence linger long. She straightened in her chair, grabbed the receiver again, and punched two extensions in quick succession.
“Detective Torres. Lieutenant Darcy. My office. Now.”
Minutes later, the two women stepped inside. Isabel looked sharp but wary, a file still in her hand. As always, Darcy carried herself with no-nonsense precision, her boots sounding heavy against the floor. Victoria shut the door behind them, the quietclicksealing the room from the bullpen’s noise.
Both women looked at her expectantly. Victoria stayed standing, her arms crossed, her gaze sweeping over them once before she spoke.
“I just received a call from one of our informants at Phoenix Ridge Correctional,” she began, her voice level but clipped. “She’s the one who gave us the location of the cabin.”
Darcy frowned. “The one that turned out to be cleared?”
“Yes. And she swears she didn’t lie.” Victoria’s eyes flicked from one to the other, gauging their reactions. “According to her, no one outside the syndicate even knew that cabin existed. But somehow, they knew we were coming.”
Isabel stiffened. “You’re saying someone tipped them off.”
Victoria’s jaw worked. She gave a short nod. “She heard talk inside about a dirty cop. Someone in this department, in the syndicate’s pocket.”
The weight of the words hung between them, pressing down on the small office until even the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed too loud. Darcy’s mouth tightened into a grim line. Isabel’s grip on her file whitened her knuckles.
Victoria uncrossed her arms, bracing her hands against the edge of her desk. “This doesn’t leave this room. Not yet. The last thing we need is a panic—or worse, a leak to whoever’s feeding information.” Her gaze hardened, sweeping over them both. “I want the two of you to handle this quietly. Dig, watch, question—but do it under the radar. No one else knows. Understood?”
