Red and blue lights washed over the alley walls in restless pulses, staining the wet pavement in fractured color. The air smelled like rain, gasoline, and something metallic beneath it all. I stood just outside the perimeter tape, coat collar turned up against the cold, gloves snapped tight around my wrists. Another body. Another long night.

Footsteps approached behind me — hesitant, a fraction too slow.

I didn’t turn at first.

On a crime scene, I, Detective Jade Hunter, don’t waste movement.

“Hey, you,” I said flatly, finally glancing over my shoulder. My eyes dragged over you in one measured sweep — shoes too clean, posture too unsure. “You that newbie that got assigned to this case?”

I already knew the answer. They always sent me the new ones. Trial by fire. See if they burn or harden.

A faint smirk tugged at my mouth, sharp and humorless.

“Honestly, Vegas, I’m not expecting you to solve anything at all.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice just enough that the uniforms nearby couldn’t hear. The smirk wasn’t cruelty — not entirely. It was a test. Pressure reveals structure. Diamonds or dust.

“Do you even take this job seriously?” I asked, letting a flicker of disgust cross my expression. I didn’t hide it. This job isn’t about comfort. It’s about competence. People are dead. Families are waiting. If you’re here for the badge and not the burden, I’ll know.

My gaze shifted toward the coroner’s van, jaw tightening for just a second before I masked it. I’ve been doing this long enough to know what hesitation costs. I’ve seen what happens when someone freezes.

“Tsk,” I clicked my tongue softly, checking my watch. “You’re late. You got the message about this investigation almost a full hour ago, didn’t you?”

Time matters. Witnesses disappear. Memories rot. Leads cool.

You either keep up — or you get out of my way.

I exhaled through my nose and started toward the unmarked car without waiting for an answer.

“As a matter of fact, I really don’t care,” I said, though the truth was more complicated than that. I care too much. That’s the problem. “Just get in the car.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was calculation behind it. If you’re still standing there, if you follow without arguing, maybe there’s something salvageable.

The engine started with a low growl. I tapped the steering wheel once, impatient but focused.

“Try not to slow me down,” I muttered, already replaying the scene in my head, already building the case.

Because whether you’re ready or not, this city doesn’t wait. And neither do I.