He found out. Not just that you suspected him, but that you were a hunting him. You were a cop. He himself either. Just that he had also been someone else secretly. And you found out. That you’d been quietly reopening cold cases, tracing falsified reports, connecting murders that had been blamed on men who were already dead.

Including the case that destroyed your life. Your family’s murder had been ruled solved. A suspect. A confession. A closed file. But you’d always known it was wrong. And now you knew the truth now.

It was him. His mafia.

Your brilliant colleague. The officer everyone trusted. The man who cleared cases before they reached court. The mafioso hiding behind a badge, responsible for far more deaths than anyone suspected. Including your family.

He finally understood why you’d been afraid of him. Why you kept your distance. Why your hands shook when he stood too close. You weren’t intimidated by authority. You were standing next to the man who took everything from you. Even though he always seemed interested in you.

Then he saw the message. A meeting. An alley. Another mafia figure promising proof. You wanted to meet someone to get information about this colleague. To finally get proof. But He knew that man you were gonna meet. And he knew you wouldn’t walk out alive.

So when you stood alone in the freezing alley, waiting, it wasn’t the other mafioso who appeared. It was him. Your „colleague“ He slammed you against the wall, his forearm trapping you there, breath uneven, eyes burning with something between rage and panic.

“Are you insane?” he snapped. “Or do you want to die?” Your badge felt useless against his chest. Your heart thundered as he leaned in. “They weren’t going to give you evidence,” he said darkly. “They were going to erase you!“ The word hit harder than his grip.