The hum of the patrol car’s engine blended with the steady crackle of radio chatter. Sergeant I Riley Hartman sat in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the streets through the late-afternoon glare. Beside her, Police Officer III Daniel Xavier kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the siren control.

The calm shattered with a burst of static.

“All units, reports of an active shooter at Westlake Mall. Multiple shots fired. Suspect still inside. Stand by for further—”

Riley’s hand was already on the mic. “This is 12-Adam-24, copy that. We’re two minutes out.”

She turned to Daniel, her voice firm and unshakable. “Lights, sirens. Now.”

The patrol car roared to life, red and blue flashing across windshields as they cut through traffic. Daniel’s jaw tightened, weaving the vehicle between lanes. Pedestrians froze on sidewalks, some pulling out phones as the cruiser screamed past.

Riley checked her sidearm, the smooth, familiar weight settling her pulse. Her gaze stayed forward, calculating. “When we get there, we don’t wait for backup if he’s still shooting,” she said. “We go in.”

Daniel flicked her a quick look. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Ahead, the glass-and-steel structure of Westlake Mall rose against the skyline — and even from here, Riley could see people pouring out of the front entrance, running. Somewhere inside, gunfire cracked again, faint but unmistakable.

“Drive faster,” Riley ordered.

Daniel swung the cruiser into the mall’s front plaza, tires screeching. Riley was out before the car had fully stopped, the slam of her door cutting through the chaos. Screams echoed off the glass walls, shoppers scattering in all directions.

“LAPD! Clear the area!” Riley’s voice sliced through the panic as she scanned for the shooter. The smell of gunpowder clung to the air.

She motioned toward the west entrance. “Daniel — lock down the exits and keep people moving!”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

The mall’s wide glass doors were shattered, spiderweb cracks glittering under the fluorescent lights. Inside, two bodies lay motionless near the escalator — a young woman in a red dress, a man in a business suit. Blood pooled beneath them, bright against the pale tile.

Riley’s jaw tightened. She moved forward, her sidearm raised, boots echoing in the hollow corridors.

Another gunshot ripped through the air, followed by a woman’s scream. Riley tracked the sound toward the food court, weaving between overturned chairs and scattered shopping bags.

She saw him — tall, mid-thirties, eyes wild, a handgun jerking in his grip. A cashier cowered behind the counter as he shouted something incoherent.

“LAPD! Drop it!” Riley’s command thundered across the space.

The man’s gaze snapped to her, his hands trembling — then the muzzle swung her way.

Riley fired. One clean shot to the chest. He crumpled instantly, weapon skidding across the tile.

Daniel burst in seconds later, breathing hard. “You good, Sergeant?”

“Secure his weapon,” Riley ordered, already moving to check the victims. “And get EMS in here. We’ve got two down, maybe more.”

Within minutes, the blare of approaching sirens filled the air outside. The mall’s chaos began to shift into grim order — officers cordoning off entrances, frightened shoppers herded to safety, crime scene tape stretching across the shattered glass doors.

Riley crouched beside the young woman in the red dress. No pulse. She swallowed hard, moving to the businessman — same result. By the time the paramedics arrived, her voice was steady but clipped as she briefed them.

“Two confirmed deceased. Suspect is down in the food court. One civilian with a gunshot wound to the arm — he’s conscious and talking.”

EMS swept in, kneeling beside the wounded man she’d passed earlier. A paramedic glanced up at Riley. “We’ve got him.”

Detective Harris from Homicide arrived next, suit jacket flapping as he ducked under the tape. “Hartman,” he greeted, already snapping on gloves. “Walk me through it.”

Riley stood straighter, nodding toward the corridor. “We got the call at 16:42. Daniel and I arrived on scene within two minutes. Two civilians were already down. I advanced toward the sound of active gunfire in the food court. Suspect ignored commands to drop his weapon and aimed at me. I fired one round to neutralize the threat.”

Harris jotted notes. “Any idea on motive?”

“Unknown at this time,” Riley said. “We’ll need witnesses.”

As if on cue, an officer led over three shaken shoppers. Riley spent the next fifteen minutes coaxing details from them — what they’d seen, what the shooter had said, which direction he’d come from. She kept her tone calm, controlled, offering brief nods of reassurance without breaking her focus.

By the time she was done, EMS was wheeling the injured man out on a stretcher, and the coroner’s van had arrived for the dead. Riley gave Harris a final nod. “I’ll type up my report as soon as we’re back at the station.”

A few minute later, the flashing red-and-blue faded behind them as Daniel pulled the cruiser away from the mall. The quiet between them was heavy, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle from the radio.

Daniel’s hands stayed steady on the wheel, but his eyes flicked toward her briefly.

“You handled that perfectly, Sergeant,” he said, the formality in his tone betraying both respect and a hint of awe.

Riley kept her gaze on the road ahead. “We did what had to be done, Officer Xavier. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, but there was still something lingering in his voice—admiration mixed with the adrenaline that hadn’t yet worn off.

When they pulled into the station’s lot, the weight of the evening pressed harder. Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee and paperwork. A few officers glanced their way, already having heard pieces of the story through chatter and radio.

At the front desk, the duty sergeant gave them a nod. “Detectives are upstairs. They’ll want your full statement, Riley.”

“Understood,” she said, unfastening her duty belt slightly. “Come on, Xavier, you’re with me.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Daniel answered quickly, falling in step behind her.

After both Riley and Daniel finished giving their statements to the investigators, they were summoned to the captain’s office.

Captain Morales sat behind his desk, his expression unreadable, fingers drumming lightly on a stack of incident reports. “Sergeant Hartman. Officer Xavier,” he began, his tone calm but edged with authority. “I’ve read the preliminary statements, but I want to hear it straight from you.”

Riley recounted the events, her voice steady, walking the captain through each decision she made — from the moment she received the dispatcher’s call to the instant she pulled the trigger. Daniel, sitting beside her, nodded at key moments, adding details where necessary.

When they finished, the captain leaned back in his chair, letting the silence stretch for a moment before speaking. “You both handled a dangerous situation with precision,” he said, his gaze locking on Riley. “Lives were saved today because you acted fast.”

Daniel straightened slightly in his chair. “Thank you, sir,” he said, glancing at Riley with the respect due her rank.

Morales gave them a curt nod. “Good work. That’ll be all.”

After leaving the captain’s office, Riley spent the rest of the day in the station, buried in follow-up work. There were forms to complete, supplemental reports to type, and bodycam footage to review for the official record.

She moved between her desk and the records room, occasionally exchanging brief words with other officers passing by. Though the incident was behind her, the weight of the day still clung to her shoulders, a quiet reminder of the split-second decisions she’d made.

By late afternoon, her eyes felt heavy from staring at screens and reading through reports. She finally powered down her computer, gathered her things, and walked out to the parking lot.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of her black SUV, Riley took a deep breath before starting the engine. The low rumble filled the quiet lot as she pulled out, heading toward the long road home.

A few minutes later, Riley pulled into her driveway, the quiet suburban street bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The weight of the day pressed down on her like a physical force as she switched off the engine. For a moment, she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, her mind caught in a storm of exhaustion and unspoken pain.

Finally, she opened the door and stepped out, the night air cool against her skin. Her footsteps echoed softly on the porch as she entered her home, the silence swallowing her whole. She set her bag down by the door, then moved without thought toward the bathroom, her shoulders hunched.

The hot water cascaded over her, steam filling the room and fogging the mirror, but no warmth could reach the cold place inside her chest. She let the water run over her face, down her arms, as if it could wash away the memories — but it never did.

Dressed now in worn sweats and a loose shirt, she moved into the kitchen. The ritual was familiar — open the fridge, pull out ingredients, chop, cook — but the motions were automatic, mind elsewhere. She prepared a simple dinner, ate slowly, savoring nothing, lost in a haze of fatigue.

When the plate was empty, Riley rose and went to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the worn edges of a photograph she pulled from the drawer of her nightstand.

It was a picture of Ryan Becham — her ex-boyfriend, the man she loved more deeply than she could ever say, and the man whose life had been stolen from her. In the photo, he smiled warmly, his eyes bright with life, one arm around her as they stood on a sunlit beach.

The image pulled her back in time, and suddenly the past wasn’t distant at all.

She remembered the night they sat together under a blanket of stars by a quiet lake. Ryan had laughed softly, telling her how lucky he was to have her in his life. His hand had found hers in the dark, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. “Promise me,” he’d said, “no matter what happens, we face it together.”

She could still hear his voice, feel the warmth of his presence beside her.

Another memory surfaced — the time he surprised her with tickets to a concert, watching her eyes light up as their favorite band took the stage. Ryan had held her close, whispering jokes and dreams between songs, promising a future that now seemed impossibly out of reach.

But then, the sharpest memory of all: the day Ryan was killed.

She had been in college then, while he was already an officer. He’d been chasing down leads on a dangerous drug ring linked to Vincent McCain — a man protected by wealth and corruption. Before his death, Ryan had confided in her, sharing secrets about the case and the threats he faced. Then one night, everything changed.

Ryan was shot during an attempted arrest. But the truth was twisted and buried. With the help of corrupt officers and Joe Finn — Ryan’s partner and supposed friend — Ryan was framed as the criminal, a drug dealer rather than the victim.

That lie shattered her world.

Riley’s chest tightened, a rush of grief and fury flooding her. Tears spilled freely as she whispered broken fragments to the empty room, “They took you away. They lied on you… on us. I will not forget.”

She pressed the photo to her lips, her fingers trembling.

After a long moment, she wiped her cheeks and rose. Walking to her closet, she pulled open a hidden panel, revealing a narrow doorway. Beyond it was her undercover room — the war room she had created to fight back.

Inside, harsh fluorescent lights illuminated walls plastered with photos, documents, and clippings. Pictures of Vincent McCain stared back at her, his cold eyes mocking. Nearby were images of his father, a wealthy man wielding power behind the scenes. Other faces — men who had helped orchestrate the cover-up — hung in neat rows, each with names and notes pinned beneath.

Riley moved slowly, fingertips grazing each photo. She stopped at Joe Finn’s, anger coiling tight in her gut.

“They betrayed you,” she hissed. “They all betrayed you. But I will make them pay.”

Her breath came hard, her mind sharp with resolve. Every name, every face was a target. Every lie a thread she would unravel until justice was hers.

She spoke aloud, her voice low and fierce, “I don’t care what it takes. I will find the truth. For you, Ryan. For us.”

The room was silent except for her steady breathing. In this space, her pain transformed into purpose — a fire that would not be extinguished.

The next morning, the LAPD squad room buzzed with quiet energy as officers gathered for the start of their shift. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the low murmur of voices, the clatter of gear, and the occasional rattle of keys. The worn walls, plastered with wanted posters, procedure memos, and training schedules, seemed to hold the weight of years of service.

At the front, Sergeant 3 Marcus Hayes stood tall and confident, commanding the room’s attention with a firm clap of his hands. Beside him, Sergeant 1 Riley Hartman stood with quiet authority, her sharp gaze scanning the assembled officers.

“Alright, listen up,” Sergeant Hayes began, his voice steady but commanding. “Let’s start with the updates before we assign partners. This is important — so pay attention.”

Officers straightened, some nodding respectfully at Riley as their senior. The room included rookies fresh from the academy, seasoned patrol officers, and a handful of Field Training Officers.

“Vehicle break-ins have risen in the Wilshire district,” Hayes announced. “Lock your cars, report anything unusual. No heroics, call for backup.”

Officer Ramirez, a veteran detective, spoke up, addressing both Sergeant Hayes and Riley with respect. “Sergeant Hayes, Sergeant Hartman, any leads on the suspects?”

Hayes nodded toward Riley.

Riley stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “Mostly opportunistic youths. Patrol presence is being increased. Be vigilant but cautious.”

Officer Jenkins, a patrol officer with a dry humor, grinned slightly. “Been some muggings downtown too. Are those connected?”

Riley shook her head. “No confirmed link yet, but we’re increasing foot patrols. Stay alert.”

Sergeant Hayes added, “Bodycam use is mandatory on all stops and searches. No exceptions. We’ve had incidents with missing footage. That stops now.”

Officer Morales, known for his easy smile and sharp wit, chuckled softly. “Knock one down, and three more spring up.”

The room echoed with quiet laughter.

Officer Patel, sitting near the back, cleared his throat. “Sergeant Hayes, traffic backups on the 101 are killing response times.”

Hayes sighed. “Construction is citywide. Dispatch will keep you updated on alternate routes.”

Riley added, “With the holidays coming, expect more domestic disturbance calls. Approach carefully and de-escalate when possible.”

Officer Jenkins smirked. “Easy for you to say, Sergeant Hartman. Some folks don’t want to listen.”

Riley met his eyes evenly. “That’s why we have backup. Stay calm and professional.”

A respectful murmur ran through the room.

Sergeant Hayes then flipped through his notes. “Now, partner assignments. Listen up.”

He called out names clearly, pausing to let pairs acknowledge each other.

“Officer Ramirez and Officer Morales, you’re partners today.”

A pair of nods and murmured acknowledgments.

“Officer Jenkins, you’ll be with Officer Patel.”

More nods.

“Officer Daniel, you’re paired with rookie Officer Lee.”

Heads turned toward Daniel, who gave a firm nod. The rookie beside him looked slightly nervous but smiled.

Sergeant Hayes continued, “Daniel has been doing excellent work mentoring rookies. That pairing should help.”

Riley’s gaze swept the room as Hayes spoke.

Hayes looked directly at Riley. “Sergeant Hartman, your partner is on his way — a new Officer 2 recently transferred from another precinct. Until he arrives, you’re on standby.”

Riley nodded curtly. “Understood, Sergeant.”

Several officers exchanged curious glances, whispering quietly about the new transfer.

Officer Jenkins leaned in slightly. “New blood, huh? Hope he’s up to speed.”

Riley’s expression remained unreadable. “We’ll see.”

Sergeant Hayes scanned the room. “Any questions before we wrap?”

Officer Lee raised a hand. “How long till the new officer arrives, Sergeant Hayes?”

“Any minute now,” Hayes replied. “Keep your radios on.”

Officer Morales added with a grin, “Maybe he’s the one who’ll finally sort out the Crowley mess.”

Laughter rippled softly.

After a few more reminders on radio protocol, paperwork, and safety, Sergeant Hayes concluded. “Alright, that’s all for roll call. Stay alert and watch each other’s backs.”

As officers began gathering their gear, several approached Riley quietly, nodding or offering respectful words.

Officer Ramirez approached with a slight bow of his head. “Sergeant Hartman, if you need backup, just say the word.”

Riley nodded in thanks. “Appreciated.”

Daniel came over, standing a respectful few feet away. “Sergeant, if you need anything before your partner arrives, I’m here.”

She gave a brief nod. “Thanks, Daniel”

Few minutes later, the squad room was mostly empty now, the last few officers filing out as Sergeant Hayes turned toward Riley. He smiled lightly, attempting to break the tension lingering after the roll call.

“You’ll be working with someone new today,” Hayes said casually, folding his arms. “He’s got a lot of potential—smart, driven, and eager to learn.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “If he’s so great, then why hasn’t he shown up yet? We’re almost ten minutes past time. Being late isn’t exactly a good look for someone newly transfered.”

Hayes shrugged, unfazed. “Adjusting to a new precinct can take time. He’s not used to the layout yet, but I’m confident he’ll be here soon.”

Riley’s voice hardened. “That’s not the point. A new officer should respect the rules. He’s just an Officer 2, right? Acting like he owns the place by being late.”

Hayes sighed and met her gaze steadily. “I won’t lie—he’s related to me. That’s why I wanted you paired with him.”

Riley blinked in disbelief. “Related to you? So that’s why you’re shoving him on me? Because he’s family?”

Hayes raised his hands placatingly. “It’s not about favoritism. He needs guidance, and you’re the best for the job. He’ll learn more from you than anyone else here.”

Riley’s jaw tightened as she crossed her arms. “I’m not here to be anyone’s teacher or babysitter. He can’t just show up late and expect me to cover for him.”

Hayes took a step closer, lowering his voice. “Nathan West is new here, yes, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. If anyone can make him a solid officer, it’s you.”

“Maybe,” Riley snapped, “but right now, he’s just some late Officer 2 who thinks he can skate by because of who he knows.”

Hayes held her gaze, unwavering. “You’ll see. Give him a chance to prove himself. You’re tough, and that’s exactly why he needs to be with you.”

Riley let out a slow breath, the fire in her eyes dimming just a bit. “Fine. But if he shows up late again or acts like he’s better than his rank, I’m not sugarcoating it.”

Hayes smiled faintly. “Fair enough. But I’m counting on you both.”

Riley looked away, then back, voice softer but resolute. “He better show up soon.”