Dancing in the dark.

The late afternoon sun, a brazen splash of gold, sliced through the glass walls of LAPD headquarters, painting stripes across the polished floors. Captain Zoe Andersen emerged from her office, a thin file tucked almost casually under her arm, her gaze sweeping the bustling corridor.

Out on the plaza, leaning with an easy grace against the severe black of an unmarked car, was Celina Juarez. She was no longer the eager rookie, her posture now etched with the quiet confidence of years on the street. Yet, in the depths of her eyes, a sharp, unyielding fire still burned, untamed by procedure or experience.

“Juarez,” Zoe’s voice, calm and steady, cut through the urban hum. She lifted the file, a slight, almost imperceptible gesture. “Feel like taking on something… different?”

Celina’s eyebrow arched, a silent question. “Different like paperwork? Or different like going undercover with dangerous criminals?” Her tone held a hint of challenge, a playful edge that Zoe had come to recognize.

For a fleeting moment, a rare, half-smile touched Zoe’s lips—the kind that was earned, not given. “The second option,” she confirmed, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. It was an invitation, a test, and a promise, all wrapped in one understated glance.