Chapter 2 - The Captain's Threshold
The heavy iron hinges of the precinct doors groaned as they slammed back against the brick wall.
Footsteps—fast, heavy, and authoritative—cut across the concrete plaza.
"Sergeant Reyes!"
The voice didn't just carry; it commanded the entire street. It belonged to Captain Marcus Vance—not my tactical lead Vance, but Marcus Vance, the precinct commander who had spent twenty years in federal-local joint task forces before taking over the downtown division.
Reyes froze mid-push, his hand still gripping my shoulder. A smug, self-satisfied smirk plastered itself across his face as he turned around, clearly expecting reinforcement for a job well done.
"Captain! Good timing," Reyes called out, puffing out his chest and gesturing toward me like a hunter showing off a mounted deer head. "We got a live one out here. Some unhinged civilian waving a fake federal badge, trying to force her way past our barricade. Malik and I secured the perimeter, and I was just getting ready to process—"
Captain Vance didn't look at Reyes.
His eyes were locked entirely on my hands bound behind my back in steel cuffs, traveling slowly up past my bruised forearms to my face.
The color drained from Marcus Vance’s face so fast it looked like someone had pulled a plug in his neck. His stride broke instantly.
"What..." Vance's voice dropped to a breathless, disbelieving whisper. "What did you just do?"
Reyes, oblivious to the geological shift happening right in front of him, chuckled and gave my shoulder another rough pat. "Standard protocol, Cap. She was acting suspicious, refusing orders. Had some fancy gold prop in her pocket. Thought she could walk right through our—"
Smack.
The sound of Vance’s open palm striking the side of Reyes's tactical vest echoed down the quiet street like a pistol shot.
Reyes stumbled sideways, his hand flying to his chest, his jaw dropping in absolute shock. "Captain? What the hell—?!"
"Shut your damn mouth, Reyes," Vance hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of fury and sheer horror. He lunged past the bewildered sergeant, closing the distance between us in two massive strides.
My wrists were still locked, but I met his gaze dead-on.
"Agent Torres," Vance breathed, his hands hovering over my arms as if he wanted to catch me but didn't dare touch the cuffs without permission. "God in heaven. Tell me my men didn't just cuff a federal inspector general."
"Special Agent Maya Torres, FBI, Atlanta Field Office, Cyber and Human Exploitation Division," I recited, every syllable cold enough to freeze water. "Currently assigned to a high-priority interstate interception unit. And your sergeant here has spent the last ten minutes actively assaulting a federal officer, stealing my credentials, and blowing an eighty-hour tactical surveillance operation."
The silence in the precinct courtyard became absolute.
Officer Malik dropped her clipboard. It hit the pavement with a sharp, plastic clatter. The other three patrolmen standing near the cruiser looked as though they had just been struck by lightning, their eyes darting nervously between Reyes and the badge Vance had already snatched out of Reyes's open pocket.
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"Get these off her," Vance whispered, turning a glare upon Reyes that could have melted steel. "Get these handcuffs off Special Agent Torres right now, or I will personally strip your shield and throw you in a federal holding cell before you can blink."
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