Because a shooting was involved—and a fatal one at that—it was way beyond a street patrol's pay grade.
After Ryan handed over his weapon, only Officers Cole and Lilith stayed behind to monitor him. The others started locking down the perimeter and calling in backup units.
Taylor had stayed tucked behind Ryan the moment the first patrol showed up. With her head lowered and hair covering her face, the initial officers hadn't recognized her.
But Cole and Lilith, who were stationed closest, eventually did a double take.
Their eyes widened in disbelief. For a second, they looked ready to scream like fans at a concert.
Because seriously—who in America didn't recognize Taylor Swift?
She smiled faintly and raised a finger to her lips: Shh.
Both officers nodded frantically, nearly slapping their own mouths shut.
To them, Taylor was an untouchable icon. Direct contact with a megastar like her? Basically impossible.
Now? She was literally clinging to a fellow officer.
No way they couldn't read between those lines.
And so, both Cole and Lilith turned their gazes toward Ryan—with a kind of envy normally reserved for lottery winners.
Ryan noticed the looks and blinked.
Okay, sure, Cole was a guy. That made sense.
But… Lilith?
Wait. Was that envy too?
"Damn. I don't mess with the alphabet mafia, but I do respect a blooming lily garden."
That's when the big guns arrived.
At almost the exact same time, both Captain Alexander and a full squad from the Detective Bureau pulled up.
The LAPD was structured into three major divisions:
Operations Bureau – Which covered 21 districts including Ryan's, Hollywood Division. They handled patrol, routine policing, and public order.
Special Operations Bureau – Which included SWAT, aerial support, and tactical units.
Detective Bureau – Which investigated major crimes: homicides, gang activity, trafficking, robbery, and beyond.
Because someone had died—and not just anyone, but a professional hitman—the Detective Bureau was taking over.
Specifically, the case fell under the jurisdiction of the Robbery-Homicide Division, the LAPD's equivalent to a major case unit.
And heading that division?
Detective David Thomas.
—
Blond, mid-40s, ruggedly handsome.
David was a living legend within the LAPD.
The man had once cracked a national-level serial murder case in under 24 hours. The media nicknamed him "The Hound of Los Angeles."
The moment he entered the restaurant, his sharp gaze locked straight onto Ryan.
Piercing. Cold. Calculating.
Ryan didn't flinch.
Self-defense. All by the book.
And besides—he'd once been a state-level agent. If he couldn't stay calm now, what was the point of all those years of psychological conditioning?
Still, Ryan could tell—
David wasn't buying it.
He'd clearly reviewed Ryan's entire file on the way over. Including:
Both of Ryan's shootouts.
Internal Affairs evaluations.
Psychological assessments following his first "mag-dump" operation.
Technically, Ryan was on administrative leave.But that didn't mean total vacation.
While off-duty, he was required to complete psychological counseling and answer to both the District Attorney and Internal Affairs.
Especially since his prior kill count included:
Black suspects
An LGBT shooter
A double-tap to the hornet's nest of modern political sensitivity.
David's brow furrowed.
A rookie orphan?First day on the job, and he takes down five armed hostiles solo?
Walks away without a scratch?
And his psych evaluation said—what?
"Completely stable."
No stress. No nightmares. No trauma.
Bullsh*t.
Most officers, their first kill would rattle them to the core.
But not Ryan.
And now this guy had done it again, on leave, with no badge and no backup?
Either Ryan was a master manipulator who could fake microexpressions and psychological tells… or he was truly unfazed.
Either way?
David didn't trust it.
Captain Alexander approached, his face grim.
"Ryan," he asked. "Tell me exactly what happened."
Ryan recounted the events calmly—highlighting the moment he only fired after the weapon was aimed directly at him.
Alexander's shoulders relaxed.
So it was self-defense.
Sure, it'd still go to court. But LAPD had attorneys on retainer, and with Taylor Swift standing behind Ryan?
Yeah. Court wasn't going to be a problem.
He glanced at Taylor again and sighed internally.
"Goddamn good-looking men. Always living on easy mode."
"Dating Taylor Swift? He's definitely not gonna have trouble affording a lawyer."
"F**k. Why couldn't I have saved her?"
(Too bad he didn't know—saving Taylor only got you a thank-you. Looking like Ryan? That got you the rest.)
Alexander watched the surveillance footage and felt the final knot in his gut loosen.
Ryan had clearly issued a warning. The hitman clearly drew on him first.
Everything was clean.
"David," he said, turning to the legendary detective. "You saw the video. Can I take Ryan back now?"
David didn't answer right away.
He was still staring at Ryan.
"…I just have a few questions."
His voice was calm. Measured.
"First—how did you spot him?"
From the footage, the hitman had been subtle. The gun was kept beneath the table. No one else had noticed a thing.
Ryan shrugged.
"This is a romantic restaurant," he replied smoothly. "Almost everyone here came as couples."
"He was eating alone."
"From my angle, I had a clear view under the table. I saw something he didn't want seen."
David walked to Ryan's table and sat in his seat, glancing around.
Huh.
From here, you really could see everything.
"Sharp eye," he muttered.
"Fast reflexes."
Then, without warning, he smirked.
"Kid… ever consider transferring to the Detective Bureau?"