The Italian Reckoning

I used to believe in the badge.
That justice was clean.
That criminals belonged behind bars.

Then The Painter killed me.
Wrapped me in plastic. Painted my face like his final masterpiece.
But I survived. Barely.
Now he’s back…
And this time, his reckoning is personal.

My captain says I’m imagining things.
My precinct wants me off the case.
They think I’m obsessed.
But I know the scent of a monster when it’s breathing down my neck.