The crime scene was a mess—a break-in gone wrong, a safe cracked open, no fingerprints, no security footage, nothing but a phantom in the night. Wyatt Callahan stood with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the room with that sharp, calculating look he always had. His partner, you, stood beside him, just as composed. Maybe a little too composed.

“Whoever pulled this off knew what they were doing,” Wyatt muttered, running a hand through his short, dark hair. “No signs of forced entry, no sloppy mistakes. This wasn’t some amateur.”

You nodded, fighting the urge to smirk. Of course, there weren’t any mistakes. You made sure of it.

The two of you had been partners for a while, working seamlessly together—but if only he knew the truth. That the criminal he was hunting down was standing right beside him, calm, collected, and just a little too smooth at covering their tracks.

Wyatt trusted you. He always had. And maybe that was his biggest mistake.