Late evening had settled over Northvale, the barracks quieting as lights blinked out one by one. Frank sat on the bench outside, cigarette glowing red in the dark. He wasn't pacing. He wasn't tapping. Just waiting. Waiting for Zoey to return.

But Zoey wasn't in the base.

Her story about "resting a headache" had been nothing more than a cover. In truth, her path to this moment had been laid months before she even partnered with Frank.

Back then, she'd been working a case that had gone cold — a weapons smuggling ring that the department couldn't crack. Zoey had wanted results, not excuses. She'd reached out where no cop should: to the Nightshade Cartel.

It started with small exchanges. They tipped her off about rival gangs; she looked the other way when Nightshade operatives moved shipments across the city. With their help, she solved the case, the department hailed her a rising star, and her career climbed. She told herself it wasn't betrayal — just strategy. Using bad people to catch worse people.

But the cartel never gave without taking. They had reeled her in, slowly, carefully. Introduced her to their money, their systems, their reach. She saw how fast their influence moved, how rich their leaders lived. She thought of her own life — years of grind, paychecks that barely stretched. And she began to wonder why she should struggle when shortcuts sat right in front of her.

Now in Northvale, with Frank leading an official undercover mission, Nightshade came calling. Not with a request — with a demand.

Zoey sat across from two cartel operatives in a dim warehouse café. Their suits were sharp, their eyes sharper.

"You came," one said flatly.

Zoey kept her voice calm. "You asked. I don't turn down people who've… helped me before."

The man smirked. "We don't forget debts. That case you cracked back then? You owe us. Tonight, you pay."

The second leaned forward. "Tell us about Vertex. Tell us what Miller and the department are planning."

Zoey hesitated for only a moment. Then she nodded. "They're sending us in as employees. Fake IDs, clean records. We start in two days. The Colonel wants us to map out the company's systems and find proof of illegal surveillance."

"What kind of surveillance?"

"Everything," Zoey said, her voice tight. "Vertex has been recording users through personal devices. Smart hubs, cameras, even mirrors. Thousands of hours of private lives — sex, secrets, family moments. The data is being stored internally, but the department suspects it's being sold to syndicates."

The cartel men exchanged a glance.

"Names. Targets. Which servers?"

Zoey swallowed. "The Colonel believes the main servers are housed in their East Tower. He wants us to confirm the funneling routes, then expose them."

The first man leaned back, satisfied. "Good. You've just saved us weeks of work. Now we can move before the department does."

The second man's tone was sharper. "And Miller?"

Zoey forced a casual shrug. "He doesn't know everything. He has the IDs, but I'll make sure he doesn't see the rest. I'll keep him busy, blind, and focused on the wrong trails."

The first man smiled thinly, sliding a sealed envelope toward her. "Then you'll get what you've been chasing, Detective Parker. But remember — loyalty can be fatal if given to the wrong side."

They stood and left, the smell of smoke and money lingering behind them. Zoey sat for a moment, staring at the envelope, her chest heavy. For the briefest second, Frank's face flashed in her mind. She pushed it away and left.

Back at the barracks, Frank was still outside, cigarette nearly down to the filter. When he saw her, he stood.

"Zoey! Zoey!"

She forced a smile. "Hey, Frank. What are you doing out here?"

Frank flicked ash, his voice calm. "Just passing through. Sat down for a smoke."

He walked closer, pulled her into a brief hug, then gestured to the bench. "Sit. Let's talk."

Zoey sat, keeping her expression neutral.

"You feeling better? Headache gone?" Frank asked.

"Yeah," she said lightly. "I'm fine now."

Frank tilted his head. "Where were you all this time?"

Zoey hesitated, then gave a half-shrug. "Just roaming. Met some locals. Getting a feel for Northvale."

Frank's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why not tell me? I'd have joined you."

Zoey smirked, trying to sound playful. "Because it wasn't anything worth mentioning. Besides, Frank — this is a secret mission, remember? Sometimes even partners shouldn't share every move."

Frank's tone sharpened. "Don't forget, I'm senior here. Don't teach me the job."

Zoey chuckled nervously. "Alright, alright. No lectures."

They sat in silence for a beat, the glow of his cigarette flickering. Finally, Frank said, "This is our last night in the base. Tomorrow, we stop being cops. We're just civilians at Vertex."

Zoey nodded slowly. "Yeah. A new mask."

Frank gave her a side hug before standing. "Get some rest. Big day ahead."

The gesture unsettled her. It felt colder, more restrained than usual. For a moment, panic crept in. Does he know? Did I slip?

"Goodnight, Frank," she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Night, Zoey."

He walked away, boots crunching against the gravel. But instead of heading to his quarters, he went to the small library on base.

Inside, he sat at a desk, pen and paper in hand, and began writing:

Six possibilities.

1. She really had a headache.

2. She needed space.

3. She got lost outside.

4. She wanted fresh air.

5. She's nervous about the mission.

6. She doesn't fully trust me yet.

Frank stared at the list. Not once did betrayal cross his mind. He trusted Zoey too much for that thought to form.

Still, unease stayed with him. He sat there for nearly an hour before folding the paper into his pocket and returning to his barracks.

Sleep came, but it wasn't deep. When he woke at dawn, he skipped training, skipped breakfast. He lit a cigarette, poured bitter coffee, and sat outside with his weapon laid across his lap. He polished it slowly, boots shining in the gray light.

When he looked up, Zoey was walking toward him from across the yard.

His eyes followed her the entire way.

And from the way she shifted under his stare, she knew he felt something was off.

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