Cory's voice dropped, quiet but intense. "I respect what you all do. But if I find evidence—real evidence—I will arrest whoever's responsible." He paused, letting that sink in. "Even if it means taking a parent away from their child. Even if I personally agree that Spike Jenks is scum."
The mention of Chantal hit like ice water down her spine. Izzy's fingers tightened around her coffee mug as the reality crystallized—Axel's one-man crusade was escalating, pulling others in. Kenji or Zara had clearly helped with the cameras. How long before it went too far? Before someone got hurt or caught?
Through the window, the Pilatus had finished its taxi and turned onto the runway. The café rumbled as the engines spooled up for takeoff, conversation dying as everyone turned to watch. The aircraft began its roll, gathering speed with that particular grace that never got old.
Izzy spotted movement in one of the aft portholes—Axel's massive frame was unmistakable. As the plane screamed down the runway, Axel gave Chief Fraser a slow, deliberate wave.
Cory half-rose from his seat, face darkening, but it was too late. The Pilatus climbed into the morning sky.
Izzy hid her smirk behind her coffee mug, but worry gnawed at her gut. Axel was getting bolder, more reckless. This wasn't going to end well.
Cory turned back to her, jaw locked tight. "Obstruction of justice is a felony, Ms. Reyes."
"So is selling drugs to kids." Izzy stood, tossing money on the table for her barely touched burrito. "Maybe start with the guy zip-tied to your front door, amigo."
She grabbed her food and headed for the door, needing to escape before she said something else she'd regret. But at the threshold, she paused, glancing back at his rigid posture, hisperfect uniform, the way he held himself like the weight of the entire town's law and order rested on his shoulders alone.
If he wasn't so uptight, he might actually be a decent guy.
But he was, and that was that.
The December cold slapped her face as she stepped outside, but she welcomed it. She pulled out her phone as she walked to her truck, thumbing out a text to save in drafts:We need to talk about your side project when you get back.
Because she couldn't afford to get arrested. Couldn't afford to have Chantal visit her in jail. Couldn't afford to prove that Chief Starched Undies might be right about them.
The Pilatus was a speck in the distance now, carrying her found family toward whatever waited in Alaska. And here she stood, caught between loyalty to her team and protection of her daughter, between what was right and what was legal.
Some days, she really hated being the responsible one.
3
Cory trudgedthrough the light snow from Tailwinds to the police station, his jaw still tight from that infuriating encounter with Izzy Reyes. The woman was protecting a vigilante, mocking the very law he'd sworn to uphold. Yet he couldn't shake the image of her hidden smirk, the fire in those dark eyes when she'd defended kids against drug dealers.
He'd seen her at church occasionally—not every Sunday, but often enough. Always sitting between her mother and daughter, Chantal's small hand tucked into hers. The little girl was clearly the light of Izzy's life, the way her whole face softened when she looked at her daughter. And Luz, still navigating with that walker, never lacked for Izzy's steady arm or patient assistance.
The woman protected those she loved with an intensity and loyalty he couldn't help but admire. Beautiful, fierce, strong—but vulnerable too, in those unguarded moments when she didn't know anyone was watching. Like when Chantal had dropped her Sunday school craft last week, and Izzy had knelt to help her gather the pieces, whispering something that made the little girl giggle instead of cry.
She was a spitfire, no question. And fire burned, he reminded himself. Best to keep his distance.
Focus, Fraser.
He mentally cataloged Axel's mockery from the plane—that slow, deliberate wave designed to taunt him. He'd add it to the file, one more piece of evidence that Knight Tactical's B-team thought themselves above the law.
His radio crackled against his hip. "Chief, you there?"
Graceline's voice carried that particular tone that meant she was trying not to laugh. Twenty years as his dispatcher, and she could convey entire conversations in her inflection alone.
"I'm here. Don't tell me—Jenks is already there."
"With his lawyer."
"Also," Graceline continued, her tone shifting to deadpan, "got a real emergency for you."
"What kind of emergency?"
"Eugene Holcomb found a watch. A really, really expensive watch. He's convinced he'll be arrested for grand theft if he doesn't file a report immediately."
Cory pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Eugene would panic over found property. The man once called 911 because he accidentally received someone else's mail.
