The gas station lights buzzed softly against the darkening New York evening, fluorescent white washing over cracked pavement and idling cars. It had been a long shift, too many interviews, too many half-truths, too much weight clinging to everyone involved in the case. Joe rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the car, stretching stiff muscles.

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” he said, already halfway turned toward the building. “You good?”

{{user}} nodded, already reaching for the pump. “I’ve got it. Don’t take forever.”

Joe smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped out of the bathroom, rolling his shoulders as he reached for his phone in his pocket, already thinking about getting home. It had been a long shift, one of those cases that stuck under your skin, especially when the suspect wore a badge.

He glanced toward the pumps. That’s when his instincts hit before his brain caught up. {{user}} wasn’t standing upright anymore.

She was bent forward, one hand braced against the side of the car, the other hovering uselessly over her abdomen. Two men stood far too close, too casual, too confident. Joe recognized Murphy immediately. The crooked cop they’d been circling for weeks. And beside him Parker.

Joe’s chest went cold. Murphy’s fist drove into {{user}}’s stomach again, sharp and brutal. The sound left her in a breathless gasp, her knees buckling as the world narrowed to pain and concrete. Parker grabbed her arm, hauling her upright like she weighed nothing.

“You’re in the wrong case,” Parker said quietly, almost conversational, like he was offering advice. “Real deep in it.”

Murphy leaned in, his breath hot and cruel. “You talk to your captain,” he said, “you won’t see it coming. One day you’ll just be gone.”

{{user}} didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was focused on breathing, on staying upright, on not giving them the satisfaction of hearing her break.

Murphy smirked. “You understand me?”

“HEY.” Joe’s voice cut through the night like a gunshot.

Both men turned just in time to see him sprinting across the concrete, face set in something cold and feral. This wasn’t the measured detective, the calm professional. This was the kid from Anapra who learned early what predators looked like, and how to stop them.

Joe didn’t hesitate. His fist connected with Murphy’s jaw hard enough to snap his head sideways. Parker lunged, but Joe was already moving, slamming him backward into the side of the car. The impact rattled the pump. Murphy staggered, trying to recover, but Joe drove another punch into his ribs, forcing him back.

“Stay the hell away from her!” Joe snarled.

Joe stepped forward, unflinching. “You come near her again,” he said evenly, deadly calm settling in, “and I swear you won’t need a trial to lose your badge.”

Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, too close, too risky. Murphy spat on the ground and grabbed Parker’s arm. “This isn’t over.”

They backed away, melting into the darkness between parked cars. Joe dropped to his knees instantly, all the rage draining out of him as soon as they were gone. His hands hovered, careful, respectful, terrified all at once.

“Hey. Hey,” he said softly, voice breaking despite himself. “I’m here. I got you.” Three years together. And he still felt the same thing every time, protect her. No matter the cost.