He stared down at the wound with blank disbelief, as if the bullet betrayed him.As if the universe ignored his script.
I pushed myself upright, checking for holes and burns I might not have felt during the fight.Blood covered my face and torso, but none came from a bullet wound.The shot hit Mercer instead of tearing through me.
Marci stood trembling a few feet away, arms still raised like a fighter ready for another strike.Rope burns ringed her wrists, bruises darkened her face, and her breath came fast and uneven.Her eyes stayed sharp and clear.She’d saved my life.
“Marci,” I said.My voice sounded distant under the ringing.
She looked at me, then at Mercer writhing in pain, then at the gun lying useless on the floor.Her knees buckled and I reached her before she hit the ground.My arms wrapped around her and held tight while both of us shook through the crash of adrenaline.
“You’re safe,” I whispered against her hair.I couldn’t tell whether I meant her or myself.“You’re safe now.”
A sound came from Mercer, somewhere between a groan and a growl.His good hand pressed against the ruined shoulder.Blood spread across his suit until the fabric turned nearly black.Wild eyes found mine, holding panic and confusion and a hint of realization.
“You can’t,” he wheezed.“I’m a cop.You touch me and --”
“Nothing.”My voice left no angle for doubt.“A badge never saved anyone from a weapon they pulled themselves.A badge never erased consequences.”
Fury and pain collided across his features.For a brief second, something shifted behind both -- recognition, ugly and undeniable.He finally saw the truth: every step toward this moment came from his own choices.No betrayal pushed him here.No enemy cornered him.He broke himself long before I ever showed up.
I held Marci closer and waited for whatever came next.
* * *
The warehouse doors crashed open, rusted hinges screaming under the strain.I spun toward the sound, Marci still pressed against my chest, my body moving on instinct to shield her from a new threat.Shapes flooded through the entrance, wearing familiar cuts and carrying themselves in a way that promised an end to violence, not a fresh round of chaos.Atilla led the charge, his massive frame filling the doorway, a shotgun held in his weathered hands as if born there.
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he growled, voice rolling across concrete.
General, Spade, and Truth followed close behind, every man armed, every gaze locked on the scene in front of them.They took in everything at once.My blood-covered face.Marci clinging to my side.Mercer bleeding on the floor.The gun resting near a support beam.No one needed a speech to understand what happened.
“Jesus Christ, Ace.”General lowered his weapon.“You look like hell.”
“Feel worse.”I tightened my arm around Marci as fresh tremors shook her.Adrenaline drained from her system in fast waves now that backup had arrived.“We’re still standing.Mercer stays down.”
Spade moved first.He crossed to the weapon, every step calm and professional.He already had his phone out, snapping photos of the original position from several angles before he shifted anything.“State police are running about two minutes out.Captain Monroe rides along.”
I stared at him.“State police?”
“You really believe we would let you walk in here alone?”Atilla advanced, shotgun angled toward the floor but ready for action.“We stayed back, like you demanded, but nobody in this room planned to watch you face that bastard without backup.”His dark gaze dropped to Mercer.“Spade made a few calls.Turns out the state boys already had a heavy interest in Detective Mercer.He’s caused trouble elsewhere on his way to find Marci.Let’s just say he’s no longer welcome in the state of Oklahoma, and not just because we want his ass gone.”
Spade nodded, still recording the scene, still methodical.“I called in a favor from Captain Monroe.Once he heard what we’d gathered on Mercer, he moved fast.Complaints from women, pattern of harassment, witnesses ready to talk.Tonight’s stunt gave the last few puzzle pieces.”
“You set him up.”The realization settled slow and heavy.“You let him drag us here, let him run his mouth, knowing state police would show at the exact moment he damned himself.”
General stood solid.“We gave him enough rope for his own neck.Every threat came from his lips.Every choice belonged to him.We only made sure someone official listened, which was easy enough since we have an audio recording.”
A strangled noise burst from Mercer -- half pain, half disbelief.Color drained from his face as shock took hold.One hand clamped over the shoulder wound, shaking from effort.“You can’t,” he rasped.“I’m a decorated officer.This is… this is…”
Atilla stepped forward.“Finished.”No softness.No debate.“Everything ends here.”
Red and blue light flashed through broken windows, washing concrete and steel in alternating color.Engines rumbled outside.Doors slammed.Footsteps approached in a steady march.
A man in a state police captain’s uniform stepped through the doorway, two officers flanking him.Around fifty, gray at the temples, carrying authority like a second skin.His gaze swept the warehouse.Mercer bleeding on the floor.Spade holding the gun.Marci and me standing together.Brothers positioned like a perimeter.His gaze landed on Spade and he gave a short nod.
“Captain Monroe,” Spade said.“As discussed.”
Monroe stepped toward Mercer, a controlled chill in every line of his posture.
“Detective James Mercer.”His voice carried judgment like a verdict already written.“Captain David Monroe, state police internal affairs.My unit has tracked your actions for six months.Harassment.Stalking.Abuse of authority.Evidence tampering.Tonight adds kidnapping of Ms.Robbins, assault, threats against Mr.Ardis, and a fired service weapon during an unlawful confrontation.The final pieces of the case just fell into place.”
