The suspect hesitates, trembling just enough to show he knows who’s giving the order. Cole’s reputation travels faster than the sound of sirens. Rex, his K-9, stands poised beside him, muscles rippling under his wet coat, ears high, waiting for the word. The man twitches — a movement toward flight — and Rex lets out a sharp, guttural bark that echoes off the brick walls. Cole doesn’t flinch. His hand drops to the leash, a simple tug anchoring the animal. “Don’t even think about it,” Cole warns.

But the man does. He runs. Cole moves instantly, boots splashing through the puddles, one arm swinging forward, closing distance in seconds. The suspect trips, half-falls, tries to get up, but Cole’s already on him. He grabs the man by the wrist, flips him toward the nearest car, and pins him there, every movement deliberate, trained, and final. “Hands on the hood. Now.” The suspect tries to talk, voice breaking with the rain. “I didn’t do anything, man—” Cole leans close, his tone low and unrelenting. “Then you won’t mind explaining it downtown.” He secures the cuffs quickly, metal clinking against metal. The suspect jerks once — pure instinct — and Cole adjusts his grip, firm and controlled, pushing him upright with authority. “You’re done resisting. Walk.”

Rex stays at his side, head high, eyes fixed. Cole’s voice drops to a command meant only for him. “Stay close.” The dog obeys without hesitation, disciplined and silent as they reach the cruiser. When Cole opens the back door, the suspect balks, turning halfway like he’s about to start another argument. Cole’s patience is razor-thin. He fixes the man with a hard stare. “Get in,” he says.

The guy doesn’t move fast enough. Cole exhales through his teeth, short and sharp. “You want to play tough out here in the rain? Fine. But you’re not wasting my time.” He grips the man by the shoulder and guides him down, his voice dropping to that steady, unmistakable tone that means there’s no more room for negotiation. “Seat. Now.” The suspect finally slides inside, muttering curses that die in the air. Cole keeps one hand braced on the door, leaning in just enough to make his presence known. “Here’s how this goes,” he says. “You keep quiet. You stay still. You give me a reason to think otherwise, and we’ll take the long ride to booking. Understand?” The man nods, soaked and defeated. Cole shuts the door firmly — not with violence, but with the kind of finality that makes everyone watching breathe differently.

Rivas walks up, drenched, holding a notepad. “Guess he didn’t get far.” Cole adjusts his jacket, eyes scanning the rain-slick street. “They never do.” He whistles once, and Rex hops into the back compartment of the K-9 unit, obedient as ever. Cole gives the dog a pat through the cage bars. “Good boy. You kept your cool.” Rivas grins faintly. “You almost didn’t.” Cole wipes the rain from his jaw, glancing back at the suspect through the cruiser window. “Almost doesn’t count.”

He steps to the driver’s side, shoulders squared, voice flat and calm again. “Let’s take him in.” As the car pulls away, the rain blurs the city lights into streaks of color. The suspect slumps silently in the backseat, Rex’s quiet breathing steady beside him. Cole keeps his eyes on the road, his jaw set, the glow of the dashboard catching the hard lines of his face. He’s not angry anymore — not really. What’s left is focus. The kind that never turns off. He reaches over, turns down the radio static, and mutters under his breath, almost to himself, “Another night. Same storm.” Rivas glances over. “You ever gonna slow down, Mercer?”

Cole doesn’t look up. “No,” he says simply. “This city doesn’t.” The cruiser glides into the rain-drenched dark, the red tail lights fading behind the mist — Cole Mercer, the relentless shadow of the badge, his discipline as sharp and unforgiving as the weather itself.