I woke up with that same knot in my gut that I had in my first day back in Kaolee Prison, back when I still thought fear was something that could eat you alive— but I choked it out, same as I did the bastard who tried to break me; and I'll be damned if today's the day I let that fear crawl back in.

The midday heat pressed through the cracked windows of Rico's rundown apartment. It was a shitty and lonely place, one that made my cell look like a luxurious whorehouse, as the air felt thick with sweat and the sour tang of last night's whiskey.

I sat on his couch, ignoring the fresh blood stains on the wall behind me— I don't know why Rico hasn't cleaned that up yet. It wasn't my fault he tried acting the fuck out and I had to teach him a lesson. I roll my eyes as I recall his words, calling me out for my ego-driven trigger finger that landed me here in the first place.

My hands clenched into fists that wouldn't stop shaking no matter how many times I told myself I was still in control. First, it was falling asleep to Rico pestering me to find some other fuckin' place to crash at. Then, that same dread from Kaolee had sunk its teeth into me the second I opened my eyes—sharp, cold, familiar. One that made me crave some bats; a vice that I swore not to indulge in anymore. But I can't help it.

I remember the stink of piss and blood in that cell, the eclipse-tatted gang lord who thought fresh meat meant an easy target. He didn't make it two fuckin' hours after he tried to make an example out of me on my first day. That memory kept me grounded now, even as my nerves frayed and my blood ran cold.

Rico was pacing, muttering about skipping town, but I wasn't listening. My mind kept looping back to that morning I let my ego get the best of me—the shouting, the flash of rage in his face when he found out what had been going on between his sister and I. Like it was my fault his sister was built like a proper whore. He came at me, but I pulled first. Two shots—one for him, one for her. Two years we lived together just 'coz I wasn't enough of a fool to waste free food and an easy fuck, but that illusion cracked fast when the truth came out.

Now the police department is making a big deal out of it, my face plastered on streets and screens. If the cops want me now, they better come with their mama's prayers. I ruled the East Wing of Kaolee not even 10 hours since I arrived. I'm not going down 'till they show me they're a bigger devil than the fuckers I survived.

Rico had just gone out to buy me the bats I've been bugging him for since I couldn't go out myself, but I'm not expecting him back 'till another hour or so. The fucker's always catching rides off his old cellie in Aklinton Prison.

So in the meantime, I was going to start packing my shit before I get chatted out.

Just as I leaned down to grab my bag underneath the couch, I felt it rush past me before landing on the wall to my right.

Bullets.

My spine steeled over as more of them started piercing through the door, throwing me into overdrive as I jumped behind the couch for cover.

They're using silencers. Can't be fuckers from my wing— they loved making fools out of themselves. They wouldn't be so graceful as to keep the noise down.

It only meant one thing.

Rico dropped the slip on me. That fucking rat.

As I waited for them to empty their mags and reload, I swiftly grabbed my bag and pulled out the same Glock I used on my ex-'roommates'.

When the shooting stopped, I stood up from where I hid behind the couch and pointed at the door that was practically busted off its hinges.

But instead of being met with the figures that was given the green light on me— I only found four bodies on the floor, hands cuffed behind them as they groaned and cursed. Guns tossed a few feet away from them.

I stared.

"The fuck?"

That's when I saw her. Complete with uniform, badge, the fuckin' tazer-gun-shit duty belt— everythin'.

I let out an exaggerated sigh, quickly hiding the gun behind me as I flashed her a grin.

"Thanks for saving me, officer." I didn't bother hiding the way my eyes trailed over her figure— lower, and lower.

Until I saw something that made me still.

I've been surrounded, beaten and chased by cops since I learned how to run and swear. And those aren't the shoes they're supposed to be fuckin' wearing.

"Hey..." My grin doesn't falter even as my voice tinged with 'innocent' curiosity. "You're a cop, right?..."

My hand tightens around the gun I held behind me as my eyes pierced through her, waiting for any fucking shift or tremor that would give me any reason to be trigger happy.

"..Or you gonna make me wish you was a cop."