Under the Shadows

Mia stepped into the precinct, her movements as calm and measured as ever, her expression an unreadable mask of detachment. On the surface, she was just another detective starting her shift. Her uniform was crisp, her boots steady against the linoleum floor. But inside, her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might crack her ribs.

The car was gone. Left in the agreed-upon location, wiped of any traces that might lead back to her—to them. The Frenchman's crew had assured her it would vanish into the labyrinth of his operations. Nobody had seen her. Nobody would ever know. Her alibi was airtight, every detail meticulously planned.

She had done it. The plan had worked.

The thought sent a strange mix of triumph and disbelief coursing through her, a heady cocktail that threatened to shake the mask she'd carefully constructed. But she couldn't afford to let anything slip. Not now. Not ever.

As she crossed the bullpen, the air practically buzzed with chaos. Phones rang incessantly, voices overlapped in tense, hurried exchanges, and the officers seemed to be moving in every direction at once. A surge of adrenaline hit her as she took it all in, though she kept her pace steady, her demeanor relaxed.

She stopped by a desk near the center of the room, catching the attention of a colleague—a young officer named Torres, who looked like he hadn't slept in days. His uniform was rumpled, his face pale and drawn. Perfect, she thought. He'll be too frazzled to notice anything off.

"What's going on?" Mia asked, pitching her voice just right—curious, concerned, but not overly invested.

Torres blinked up at her, startled, his exhaustion making him slow to respond. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could utter a single word, the sound of Harlow's furious voice cut through the bullpen like a blade.

Mia froze in place, her pulse quickening as Harlow stormed out of the meeting room. His face was a furious shade of red, the veins at his temples bulging as he barked orders and incomprehensible fragments of a rant.

"Missing the chaos!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse with anger. His wild eyes scanned the room as he barked, "Where's Cooper? WHERE IS SHE?"

Mia's heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening. She schooled her expression into something neutral—concerned but detached—as Harlow barreled past her, muttering incoherent fragments of rage under his breath. She didn't look directly at him, didn't react beyond a slight furrow of her brow. Inside, however, a sharp current of tension coiled in her chest.

She followed the group of detectives filing into the meeting room, keeping her pace slow and deliberate. The atmosphere inside was tense, the air thick with an unspoken sense of collective failure. Her gaze flicked to the massive screen at the front of the room, and there it was—the video.

Playing on a loop, the same scene over and over: Dante Amato, shackled and defiant, his eyes blazing as he faced Detective Cooper. Mia's breath caught as her gaze shifted to Elyne in the frame. She was seated across from him, her back to the camera, her hands resting lightly on the table.

At first, it looked unremarkable. But then she saw it—really saw it.

Elyne's fingers. Tapping.

The movement was subtle, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. But now, under the scrutiny of the entire precinct, it was glaringly obvious. Her fingertips drummed against the table in a rhythmic pattern, deliberate and precise. Mia's mind worked quickly, piecing it together even before the murmurs in the room began to spread.

Morse code.

"Missing the chaos."

A smile tugged at the corner of Mia's lips, the barest flicker of amusement breaking through her otherwise impassive demeanor. Elyne, you genius, she thought, a flicker of pride stirring in her chest. She'd always known Cooper was sharp, but this? This was something else entirely.

Around her, the room buzzed with a mix of disbelief and realization. One detective muttered something about how they'd missed it the first time. Another shook his head, his expression equal parts admiration and exasperation.

Mia stayed quiet, slipping into a chair near the back of the room. Her fingers curled around the armrests, gripping them tightly as she kept her eyes on the screen. She didn't dare let her emotions show, didn't dare give even the smallest hint of the storm raging inside her.

Elyne had pulled it off. She'd managed to send a message in plain sight, right under Harlow's nose. And now? Now, it was all unraveling.

Harlow reentered the room, his face twisted with fury, his voice booming as he demanded answers. "How did you miss this? HOW?" he shouted, pointing at the screen as if it might provide an explanation.

Mia didn't flinch. She didn't move. She simply sat there, her gaze steady, her mind racing.

As the video looped again, her gaze lingered on the screen. The tap-tap-tap of Elyne's fingers, the faintest flicker of defiance in her stance—it was mesmerizing. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to hope. Maybe, just maybe, Elyne had made it.Maybe she was out there somewhere, with him, far from the chaos they'dorchestrated, safe and free.