The Miami sun burned hot against the pavement, but a sudden wave of dizziness made the heat feel distant, almost unreal. You pressed a hand to your temple, blinking hard as the world swayed.

Horatio Caine’s voice cut through the haze. “You alright?” His sharp blue eyes flicked to you, unreadable behind his sunglasses, but there was something in his stance—alert, assessing. He had noticed.