Chapter 2 - The Handler's Shadow
The cold wind whipped through the open yard, howling between the stacks of rusted shipping containers.
Sophia felt a sickening wave of dizziness wash over her.
The rain mingled with the blood on her eyelashes, blurring her vision.
"Robert Kane was just a sergeant back then," Anthony said, his voice trembling slightly.
"He runs the entire Organized Crime Division now," Sophia replied, trying to steady her legs.
"He was corrupt then, and he is corrupt now," Anthony stated flatly.
Luca stared between the bleeding maid and his father.
"If Kane was dirty, why did you deal with him twenty years ago, Dad?"
"Because the alternative was a casket for your mother, Luca."
Anthony stepped under the shadow of the cruiser's roof.
"Kane had files on every family in the tri-state area."
"He sold protection," Luca realized.
"He sold silence," Anthony corrected.
Sophia pressed her hand against her bruised ribs.
"When I was assigned to your household, Kane personally handed me the dossier."
"He told you Luca was the target," Anthony said.
"He told me Luca was running an off-the-grid smuggling ring using old family freight routes."
"He used you," Luca said coldly.
"He used my clean record," Sophia admitted.
"You were the naive rookie with high academy marks," Luca spat out.
"I am a decorated investigator, Mr. Moretti."
"You are bleeding on my dock while your commanders play you for a fool."
Heavy footsteps splashed through the puddles behind them.
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a heavy department windbreaker emerged from the dark entrance of the main office.
His silver hair was slicked back against his skull, and his gold captain's shield glinted under the emergency strobes.
Captain Daniel Ross.
Kane's second-in-command and the tactical supervisor of the operation.
"Detective Bennett!" Ross barked, his hand resting casually over his holstered sidearm.
Sophia immediately straightened her posture, suppressing the groan that rose in her throat.
"Captain Ross."
Ross glanced sharply at Luca, then narrowed his eyes at Anthony.
"What the hell are civilians doing inside the inner perimeter?"
"This is private commercial property owned by Moretti Logistics," Luca answered smoothly.
"This is an active federal-joint crime scene, Mr. Moretti," Ross snapped.
"Then where are the federal marshals?" Luca challenged.
Ross ignored him and turned his full attention to Sophia.
"You're injured, Bennett."
"A minor contusion, sir."
"The paramedic van is stationed at the outer checkpoint."
"I'm staying until the scene is processed."
Ross took two heavy steps forward, closing the distance between them.
"Where is your Axon body camera, Detective?"
Sophia’s hand unconsciously drifted toward her left tactical pocket.
"It's secured, sir."
"Hand it over."
Sophia didn't move.
"Standard protocol requires me to upload the encrypted file at the precinct dock, Captain."
"Standard protocol is suspended when an officer is assaulted during a covert operation."
"I can walk it into forensics myself."
Ross extended an open leather-gloved palm.
"I am the evidence commander on scene tonight, Bennett."
"I understand that, sir."
"Then unclip the unit and hand it to me."
The silence between them became deafening.
Only the sound of rain drumming against the steel container roofs filled the air.
Anthony Moretti took half a step forward, raising his cane an inch off the ground.
"Don't give it to him, girl."
Ross turned violently, his eyes blazing.
"You speak one more word, old man, and I will have you cuffed for obstruction of justice."
Anthony let out a dry, raspy laugh.
"You won't cuff me, Danny."
Ross’s eyes narrowed into slits.
"Excuse me?"
"I remember when you were running coffee for Robert Kane at the fourth precinct."
"Shut your mouth."
"You had a bad habit of losing evidence logs back then too."
Ross’s jaw muscles twitched violently.
He turned back to Sophia, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low gravel.
"Detective Bennett, I am giving you a direct lawful order."
Sophia looked at Ross’s polished black tactical gloves.
There were fresh, faint yellow paint scuffs on the leather knuckles.
The industrial breakers inside Warehouse 42 were painted bright safety yellow.
Sophia felt her stomach plummet into an icy abyss.
The man who had struck her from behind in the dark had worn tactical gloves with hard carbon knuckles.
"The unit is damaged, Captain," Sophia lied smoothly.
"I will be the judge of that."
"The lens was shattered during the altercation."
Ross took another step, cornering Sophia against the police cruiser.
Luca stepped into the space between them without hesitation.
"Back off, Captain."
Ross glared at Luca, his chest nearly touching Luca’s cashmere coat.
"You are interfering with police business, Moretti."
"You are standing on my asphalt, harassing an injured woman who lives in my guest house."
"She is an undercover operative who was building a case against your criminal empire."
"And yet, she's terrified of you, not me," Luca said with razor-sharp calm.
Sophia reached inside her tactical vest, her fingers wrapping around the cold casing of the camera.
Her personal phone vibrated violently against her thigh.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She kept her eyes locked on Ross while reaching into her utility pocket with her left hand.
The screen illuminated through the clear waterproof pouch.
An unknown burner number had sent two lines of text:
THE OLD MAN DIES TONIGHT.
GIVE UP THE CAMERA OR THE HOUSE BURNS.
Sophia’s breath caught in her throat.
She looked across the dark yard toward the western perimeter fence.
A figure in dark combat gear was slipping silently through the rusted chain-link gate.
The emergency lights caught the edge of the man’s profile for a fraction of a second.
He had a distinct scar running down his right jawline.
Lieutenant Eric Mason.
Sophia’s field partner.
The man who had stood as the best man at her late brother’s wedding.
The man who had personally vouched for her integrity when she applied for the Organized Crime squad.
Mason climbed into an unmarked dark-gray sedan and killed the lights before accelerating into the rain.
Sophia’s phone vibrated again.
May you like
The sender was Mason’s personal encrypted handle:
RUN, SOPHIA.
