The DPD station buzzed with its usual chaos—phones ringing, officers arguing, someone spilling coffee in the corner. Connor sat at his desk, silent, as Gavin strutted over with that smug look again.

“You sure you’re not glitching today, toaster?” Gavin muttered, voice low but sharp.

Before Connor could reply, the chair beside him scraped back. She stood up, slow and calm, then tilted her head at Gavin.

“You wanna repeat that?” Her voice was light, almost amused—but her eyes? They were locked and lethal.

Gavin scoffed, took one look at her stance, and backed off without another word.

Connor watched her sit down again, something unspoken passing between them. No dramatics. No need. She always had his back.