## **Chapter Eight: Puppets and Predators**
The commissioner's office smelled like cigars and expensive leather.
Sunlight filtered in through tall, dust-smeared windows, glinting off the brass buttons of the officer's dark uniform. Commissioner Harold Dane sat behind a desk carved from mahogany, tapping his pen like a metronome of authority. His office, though public in function, was very much private in its dealings.
Especially this morning.
Across from him, Marco Moretti lit a cigar with steady fingers. He didn't ask if it was allowed—he never had to.
"Elias Crane is sniffing where he shouldn't be," Marco said without ceremony.
Dane narrowed his eyes. "You told me he was small time. Loyal. Obedient."
"He *was*," Marco said, puffing smoke toward the ceiling. "But rats only need a taste of the truth to turn into heroes."
He placed a manila folder on the desk. Inside: photos of Elias meeting Kael, surveillance timestamps, a blurred printout of the ledger he stole.
"Your detective's getting ambitious," Marco continued. "And I've come too far to let him bring the whole house down just to prove his integrity."
Commissioner Dane flipped through the file, face unreadable. He paused at a photo of Elias standing outside a secured evidence locker.
"Where'd you get this?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."
Dane closed the folder slowly.
"We can't kill him," the commissioner said flatly. "That raises too many flags. You want the body, you clean the blood."
"I don't need him dead," Marco replied. "Not yet."
Dane raised a brow.
"I need him *redirected*. Or reminded who he works for."
The commissioner exhaled heavily. He pressed a button on his desk. A voice crackled through the intercom.
"Send for Detective Elias Crane. Immediately.
---
---
## **Chapter Eight: Puppets and Predators** *(continued)*
### **Scene: Kael's Apartment — The Visit**
Kael stood frozen, the door swinging shut behind Aurora with a quiet *click* that echoed louder than it should've.
She didn't ask to come in.
She never did.
Her presence filled the room like smoke—velvet, heady, laced with something sharp underneath. She wore a black tailored coat over her form-fitting dress, her stilettos clicking softly on the hardwood as she moved, leisurely, like she owned the place.
Because she *could*.
Kael's jaw clenched. "You can't just walk into my home."
"I didn't," Aurora said coolly, glancing around. "I knocked. You opened."
"I didn't invite you in."
She turned, slowly, facing him with those hypnotic, calculating eyes. "If I waited for your invitation, Kael, you'd be dead by now. Or worse—powerless."
He stepped forward, crossing his arms. "What do you want?"
Aurora smiled, and that was more dangerous than a gun.
"To see how you're holding up. You left my safe house so quickly. I was… concerned."
Kael scoffed. "Concerned? That's rich, coming from someone whose world tried to kill me twice in less than forty-eight hours."
"Not *my* world, darling. Just parts of it I haven't cut off yet."
He didn't want to admit the flicker of warmth that stirred when she called him "darling." He didn't want to admit the part of him that *missed* the pull she had on him—the strange safety in her chaos.
He hated how his heartbeat reacted when she stepped closer.
"I told you," he said, voice low, "I'm not interested in being another piece on your board."
"Too late for that." Her gaze dropped briefly to the table behind him—where the flash drive lay half-hidden beneath legal files. "You've already chosen a side. Whether you like it or not."
He stepped in her way, blocking her view.
"I'm trying to do the right thing."
"So am I," she whispered.
He looked at her then. Really looked.
Her features were still perfect—sculpted, regal—but he saw something deeper beneath the surface. The strain. The darkness carved from years of survival. The steel spine of someone who'd been forced to kill softness in order to lead.
"You're dangerous," Kael murmured.
"And you're delicious when you're angry," she said, taking one more step—close enough to touch, close enough to ruin.
Kael's hands curled into fists.
"Why are you really here?"
Aurora's voice softened. "Because I think you're smart. And brave. And I want to know which one will win when the time comes."
Kael didn't move. Didn't breathe.
"Will you burn for truth," she continued, "or bend for survival?"
"I'm not like you."
She leaned in, just enough for her lips to ghost near his jaw. "You're becoming me."
Then she turned, just like that, and walked to the door.
Without looking back, she said, "Stay alive, Kael. You're too interesting to die just yet."
And she was gone.
Kael stood there, breathing hard, pulse ragged, his entire body wired and on fire—not from fear. From her.
From the war inside him.
---
* *(continued)*
### **Scene: Commissioner's Office – Elias Arrives**
Elias's knuckles were white on the steering wheel as he parked his car outside precinct headquarters. The building loomed gray and oppressive, like the system it protected. A place he once called home—now a maze of whispered betrayals and hidden eyes.
He shut the engine off but didn't move. His fingers itched to check the gym bag under the seat, to see if the files were still there. But he knew better.
*They're watching.*
He got out, squared his shoulders, and walked in through the front like he had nothing to hide. Like a detective who still believed in the badge.
The receptionist gave him a clipped nod. "The commissioner wants to see you."
"Yeah," Elias muttered. "I figured."
The elevator ride up was dead silent, but in his mind, sirens screamed.
When the doors slid open, he was met by two uniformed officers—unfamiliar faces, too clean-cut, too quiet.
"This way, Detective Crane," one of them said.
He didn't respond. Just followed.
The commissioner's office door was already open. The lights inside were dimmer than usual, the blinds drawn halfway shut, slivers of morning light painting stripes across the desk.
Commissioner Harold Dane sat behind it, his hands folded, his expression carved from granite.
"Detective," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Sit."
Elias obeyed, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He could feel the weight of unseen eyes behind the office glass. The officers who brought him in remained just outside the doorway, standing still—too still.
"Been hearing your name a lot lately," Dane said, his voice almost casual. "You've been busy. Park benches. Midnight meetings. Looking into cold cases without clearance."
Elias didn't blink. "Is that a problem?"
The commissioner smiled without humor. "That depends. Are you building something? Or just playing detective in a world where things aren't as black-and-white as you want them to be?"
Elias held his gaze. "I follow evidence, sir. Even if it leads into shadows."
Dane leaned back in his chair. "And if those shadows belong to people who keep this city from collapsing in on itself? People who handle what the law can't?"
"Then maybe the law *needs* to collapse," Elias shot back.
Silence.
For a moment, the room was so still it felt like time had paused.
The commissioner's smile vanished.
"I'm going to give you some advice, Crane. One professional to another." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "There are certain doors you don't open. Certain questions you don't ask. Not because you're scared—but because you understand the consequences."
Elias's throat tightened.
"And if I don't stop?"
Dane's eyes darkened.
"Then you'll be reassigned. Discredited. Buried in enough red tape you'll forget what a badge even feels like." He opened a drawer and tossed a folder onto the desk—one filled with Elias's own internal review files, half-manufactured complaints, budget inconsistencies, minor procedural violations.
Paper weapons.
"Or worse," Dane added softly, "you'll end up missing, and no one will ask why."
Elias stood slowly, rage coiling in his gut.
"Are we done here?"
"Not quite," Dane said. "You're being assigned to a desk job. Effective immediately. No more field work. No more investigating off-record. And don't think about appealing. Your suspension's already signed."
Elias clenched his fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms.
This was war.
And he had no backup.
"Get out," the commissioner said, his tone now ice.
Elias left without another word—but he could feel the invisible crosshairs settling on his back with every step.
---
**
---
### **Scene: Elias Makes the Call**
Elias exited the commissioner's office with fire behind his eyes and cold sweat dampening the back of his neck.
He didn't head to his desk. He didn't stop to argue with anyone. He walked straight through the precinct and out the front doors like a man on a mission—because he was.
He slid into his car and slammed the door shut, hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white. His phone was in the center console. He pulled it out, hesitated, then tossed it onto the passenger seat like it was a live bomb.
*They're listening.*
He needed a burner. Something clean.
Five blocks away, he found a corner store. Cash only. No questions. The kind of place where the clerk never looked up.
He bought a prepaid phone, stepped outside into a narrow alley, and dialed the only number Kael had given him—once. No names. Just a string of digits etched into his memory.
The phone rang twice.
Then: "Hello?"
Kael.
"Don't talk. Just listen," Elias said quickly, eyes darting around. "You're not safe."
"What?"
"I was just reassigned. My files—everything—they've been tampered with. They know we met. They're watching us both."
"Who?" Kael's voice was tight. Tense.
"The commissioner. Moretti. Everyone. It's deeper than I thought. There are officers involved—people high up. This goes all the way to the top."
Kael was silent for a second.
Then: "What do I do?"
"Lay low. Don't use your apartment. They've probably bugged it. And whatever's on that flash drive—you need to hide it. Somewhere even *you* don't know."
"I've already seen things, Elias. These deals... the Moretti name is all over them."
"That's why I'm calling. They'll come after you next. You're a threat."
Kael's voice dropped. "Aurora already warned me."
Elias blinked. "Wait. You've *spoken* to her?"
"She showed up this morning. Just walked in."
Elias cursed under his breath. "Kael—she's part of this world. She's dangerous. You don't know what she's capable of."
There was a pause.
Kael said quietly, "She's saved my life twice."
"She might still kill you."
"I know."
Elias exhaled, the weight pressing harder. "We're both walking blindfolded through fire."
Kael's voice was grim. "Then we better figure out who lit the match."
A burst of static cracked through the line—followed by a soft, mechanical click.
Line tapped.
Elias cursed again. "I have to go. Burn this phone. Trust no one but yourself."
Then he hung up, removed the SIM, and crushed the phone under his boot before tossing the remains into a dumpster.
The storm was coming fast.
And Kael was standing right in the eye of it.
---
**