Killian didn’t say anything right away. He stirred his coffee, expression unreadable. “You’re wrestling with it,” he said. “That’s something. But don’t confuse justice with satisfaction. One is about balance. The other’s about easing your own guilt.”
“So, what the hell am I supposed to do?” I snapped, then let out a shaky breath.
Killian sighed and glanced toward the window. “You know, I see accountability differently since Jamie came into my life,” he said. “I’ve been on the other end of it—cops, lawyers, judges—everyone thinking they were right, while Jamie and the others just want to keep their loved ones safe. It changed me. Makes me see shades of gray most people pretend don’t exist.” He looked back at me. “Is that what’s happening here for you?”
“Fuck no! I’m a cop, Killian.”
Killian waved at our wall, where the list was—a gallery of people we were researching to bring down for crimes for which they were unlikely to be prosecuted in the normal ways. “You’re doing good work, Levi,” he murmured. Then tilted his chin. “We all are.”
I sighed. Most of the people on our list hid behind layers of corporations and offshore accounts, laundering money and funding organized crime. White-collar predators who’d graduated from financial schemes to something much darker—trafficking, slavery, and exploitation. The kind of people who used their money to stay invisible while making fortunes off human suffering. I didn’t answer because maybe he was right, and that scared the hell out of me.
“Understanding it doesn’t absolve you, Levi. It just means you don’t get to lie to yourself anymore,” he said quietly. For the first time, I wondered if trying to get Doc to reveal what he was hiding was about justice—or if I was trying to understand the part of myself that hadn’t stopped the killing.
I wrestled with that thought until it settled like lead in my chest. Then I said it out loud, to hear the words, “I’m no better than him.”
“Who?”
“Doc.”
Killian frowned. “What do you mean?”
I stared at the scuffed floor between us, fighting the urge to change the subject, shove it all back down where it lived. I was so damn tired of carrying it.
“My dad,” I said.
Killian blinked. “This is nothing like what that fucker did.”
I’d been sixteen. My dad was on the task force that was supposed to look into a cluster of suspicious cases—fast-tracked organs donated, donors who didn’t match the usual profiles. There’d been whispers someone was feeding a private network off the back of gang hits and overdoses. Rumors circulated that the cops were turning a blind eye to what was happening.
Killian knew all of this. My dad and what he’d done, the way my brother died because of that. Fuck, this was the reason I was even here as part of the Cave.
“He told me I didn’t understand how the world worked. That no one could fight everything. That you had to pick the battles that won’t get you crushed.” I swallowed hard. “I told him I’d never wear the same badge if that’s what it meant.”
“And yet…” Killian gestured at me. Detective. Cop.
“Yeah. And yet.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “You know I joined to prove Iwasn’thim.”
I thought of the pit in the hillside, organs gone, eyes taken. Of Rourke on the table. I stood there and did nothing at the warehouse, a man dying in that chair.
“We’re doing a good job,” Killian said, as if he thought I needed reminding.
Maybe I did.
“I’m standing in the same kind of mess,” I said. “Organ dumps, cartel money, dirty hospitals, maybe in the mix. The old guard probably thinks I’m compromised because of him. And last night, when that guy was bleeding out in the chair, I froze.” I met Killian’s gaze. “Tell me how that’s not the start of thesame story.” The worst part was that a small, hated part of me understood why my father hadn’t stopped either.
“Jesus, Levi, you’re not your dad.”
The elevator chimed before I could answer, and we both turned as Caleb and Sonya came into view—conversation over. Or at least parked. The past shoved back behind glass while the present kicked the door in.
I waited until they had their coffees, and then the four of us sat in a loose circle around the table. It felt like the old days—back when the Cave had been nothing but an idea scribbled on napkins, four of us chasing justice outside the system. I was almost glad Jamie and Lyric weren’t there; this was the core team, the ones who’d started it all, before everything got messy and complicated. But looking around at their faces—Caleb’s tired eyes, Killian’s guarded calm, Sonya’s clenched jaw—I wasn’t so sure any of us were untouched. Maybe the fractures had been there all along, and now they were starting to show.
I told them everything. The warehouse, the body, the man in the chair. The other guy with the knife. How Doc had stood there, silent, watching it happen, and how I’d frozen.
No one interrupted. Sonya’s expression was tight, Caleb’s hand hovering over his keyboard as if he wanted to start pulling data already. Killian stayed quiet, letting me get it all out. When I was done, the silence was thick enough to choke on.
“Jesus, Levi,” Caleb muttered. “You saw that happen and walked away?” Was he judging me? He had every right to judge me when the guilt was eating me from the inside.
Sonya winced. “Levi?—”
