Daniela's apartment smelled faintly of burnt coffee and rain-soaked fabric.
She stood by the window, watching the droplets slide down the glass in long, crooked lines. Her fingers tapped against the chipped porcelain of her mug, its contents long gone cold. Outside, the city pulsed beneath the storm — car horns blaring, neon signs glowing, voices rising and falling like waves. But inside, everything was too quiet.
Eleanor Heng's voice still echoed in her mind.
"I'm done with them."
"When I'm ready, I'll contact you."
It had been three nights since the encounter in Crimson Alley. Three long nights of silence.
No call. No message. No word.
Daniela couldn't sleep. She barely ate. Every knock at her door, every unfamiliar number on her phone sent adrenaline racing through her chest. She wasn't used to waiting. She hunted criminals for a living — she was trained to move, to act, to control. But now, control was out of her hands.
And that unsettled her far more than she wanted to admit.
A sharp buzz snapped her attention back. Her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter, screen lighting up with a text from an unknown number:
"Midnight. Pier 17. Alone."
Her throat tightened. No name, but none was needed.
Eleanor had made contact.
Pier 17 was exactly as Daniela remembered: broken, abandoned, and forgotten by the city. The skeletal remains of old warehouses stood hunched against the shoreline, their windows shattered, their insides gutted by years of neglect. The pier smelled of salt, rust, and oil — a strange kind of rot that no rain could wash away.
She parked two blocks away and walked the rest of the distance on foot, her senses tuned to every shift in the wind, every shadow that moved against the skeletal beams. Her weapon was holstered beneath her long coat, her badge left at home.
No backup.
Alone, as instructed.
The wind whipped at her collar as she stepped onto the slick wooden planks of the pier. The waves slapped against the supports below with dull, rhythmic thuds. It was empty — or appeared to be.
Then she saw her.
Eleanor stood at the edge of the dock, her silhouette lit by the distant glow of harbor lights. She wore the same black jacket, hands in her pockets, hair pulled back in a tight knot that revealed the sharp angles of her jawline.
"You came," Eleanor said softly, without turning.
"You didn't leave me much of a choice." Daniela's voice was steady, but her pulse wasn't.
Eleanor finally turned to face her. Even under the harsh glare of the sodium lights, she looked composed, almost serene. But there was something beneath the surface — a tension in her jaw, a guarded flicker in her eyes.
"I needed to be sure you were serious," Eleanor said.
Daniela took a step closer, careful, deliberate. The distance between them still felt charged.
"I'm here, aren't I?"
Eleanor studied her for a long moment before giving a small nod. "Then let's stop wasting time."
She pulled a folded envelope from her jacket pocket and handed it over. Daniela took it without hesitation, her fingers brushing Eleanor's for the briefest second — warm skin, calloused, steady.
Inside were photos. Documents. Bank transfers. Shipment schedules.
Real. Concrete. Dangerous.
"This is Kayleigh's last six months," Eleanor said. "Drugs in from the docks. Weapons through the freight yards. Dirty cash washed through seven front companies."
Daniela flipped through the contents, her stomach tightening with every page. If this was real — and it looked real — it was enough to cripple the Vipers' financial core.
"You've been gathering this?"
"For months."
Daniela looked up sharply. "Why?"
Eleanor's expression didn't change, but her voice dropped into something colder. "Because Kayleigh's changing. Growing paranoid. She's cutting people loose. Killing old friends. She's already eyeing me."
A pause.
"I don't want to die for her, Detective."
Daniela exhaled slowly. She understood more than she wanted to admit. Kayleigh Medaglia ruled with loyalty until loyalty became inconvenient.
"What are you asking for in return?" Daniela asked, her tone careful.
"Immunity. Protection. And a new life — far away from here."
"That's a tall order."
"It's a tall risk," Eleanor countered. "For both of us."
Daniela couldn't argue. Harboring a cooperating witness like Eleanor — a high-level Viper operative — would draw heat not just from the syndicate but from within her own department. People who'd spent years failing to bring the Vipers down wouldn't like being shown up. Internal Affairs would dissect every choice she made.
This wasn't just a case. It was a career-ending gamble.
"You understand what you're asking me to do?" Daniela said finally.
"Yes."
"And if I refuse?"
Eleanor gave a faint, bitter smile. "Then you won't see me again. And eventually, they'll put my body in the bay."
The honesty in her voice struck Daniela unexpectedly hard. She wasn't bluffing. This was real. Life or death.
The wind howled between them, pulling at Daniela's coat. She weighed every instinct inside her — logic, duty, fear — but they all collided with one simple truth that unnerved her the most:
She wanted to protect Eleanor.
Not just for the case. Not just for the Vipers. But for reasons that made her chest tighten and her throat dry.
After a long silence, she spoke.
"Alright."
Eleanor's eyes narrowed slightly, as though she hadn't expected Daniela to agree so quickly.
"I'll take this to my people. Quietly. Carefully. No one knows your name but me. You don't move until I say."
"Understood."
"And if you're playing me—" Daniela stepped closer now, close enough that the rain between them felt warmer than the city's usual cold — "I'll bury you myself."
A faint flash of teeth from Eleanor. "Fair enough."
The moment stretched — heavy, fragile.
For the first time, Eleanor's composure seemed to waver. Just a flicker. Her gaze lingered on Daniela's face, softer now, as though studying her for weaknesses. Or for something else entirely.
Then she spoke again, voice quiet, almost hesitant.
"You're different, you know."
Daniela's heartbeat quickened. "Different how?"
"You don't scare easily." Eleanor's voice was softer now, almost intimate. "But you're not heartless either. That's rare in your line of work."
The air between them grew charged, something unspoken threading tightly between their words.
"Don't mistake caution for kindness," Daniela replied, but her voice betrayed her slightly — thinner than she wanted.
Eleanor's smirk deepened for just a moment, but she said nothing more.
Instead, she turned away and disappeared into the shadows of the pier, swallowed by the fog like smoke dissolving in wind.
Daniela stood there for several minutes after Eleanor vanished, staring at the empty space where she had stood.
The envelope weighed heavy in her hands.
So did everything else.
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To be continued