The Warehouse Club was one of those seedy strip clubs on the outskirts of town. From the outside, it looked run-down, with flickering neon lights casting an eerie glow on the cracked pavement. The police cruiser hummed quietly as Luke parked a block away from the building. Riley glanced out the window, heart pounding in her chest.

Luke killed the engine and turned to her, his face a mask of stern concentration. "We're going in quiet, Torres. No heroics. We observe, we assess, and we wait for backup."

Riley nodded, tense, as they slipped out of the car and cautiously began walking down the alley toward the building.

"Stay close," Luke muttered as they approached.

As they crept around the side of the building, she could hear raised voices from inside. Luke signaled for her to stop, and they crouched near a busted window, just beneath the sill. The voices were loud, tense, and clearly agitated.

"This shipment was supposed to be flawless!" a man inside shouted. "And now it's wasted! All that product, gone! Do you have any idea how much money we've lost?"

"Something went wrong, boss," another voice chimed in nervously. "We don't know how, but it's all ruined."

Riley glanced at Luke, whose jaw was tight with concentration. "Drugs," she whispered. Luke nodded, his expression shifting to something sharper, more focused.

Slowly, Riley edged up toward the window and peeked inside. Her heart skipped a beat at what she saw: five men standing in a circle, one of them pacing back and forth with a gun in his hand. The man had a long, deep scar running down the side of his face, his features sharp and menacing. But what drew her attention even more was the two people tied to chairs in the middle of the room—a man and a woman, both gagged, their faces pale with fear.

The man with the scar stopped pacing and pointed his gun at them. "We need answers. Someone messed with the shipment, and if you two had anything to do with it, you're gonna pay. Now, tell me why I shouldn't blow your heads off."

Riley's pulse quickened as she dropped back into a crouch. "Luke," she whispered, pulling back from the window. "He's got a gun on two people inside—hostages. We can't wait for backup."

Luke frowned, weighing the situation. "We go in quietly. We take control before it escalates."

Riley nodded, her nerves on edge. Together, they moved toward the back entrance, creeping inside the building without a sound. The voices were still raised, and they could hear every word as they crept closer to the room where the hostages were being held.

Scarface was still speaking, though his tone had shifted slightly. "You know what? I've had enough for tonight. Let's keep them here—for now. They're not going anywhere, and we'll deal with this mess later."

The men grumbled in agreement, and Riley and Luke watched as four of them exited the room, heading toward the front of the building. Moments later, they heard car engines start up and drive away.

Luke signaled Riley to move, and they crept into the room where the two hostages were tied. Scarface had left with the others, leaving the two alone, their eyes wide with panic as Luke and Riley approached.

Luke knelt by the woman first, quickly undoing the ropes around her wrists. "You're okay," he said softly, trying to calm her down. "We're getting you out of here."

But the moment she was free, the woman bolted from the room without a word, disappearing down the hallway. Riley raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet as Luke moved to the man, who had been watching them with a strange, silent intensity.

"Who are you?" Luke asked, his voice low as he started untying the man. "What's going on here? Why did they take you?"

But the man said nothing, his expression unreadable as Luke worked on the knots.

Riley was keeping watch, her instincts on high alert. Her heart beat rapidly as she glanced around the room, keeping watch. And then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement at the far end of the hallway—one of the men from before had returned, a gun in his hand.

"Luke!" she yelled, throwing herself at him just as the man fired.

The bullet grazed her arm, burning as it tore through her jacket, but she barely registered the pain. She shoved Luke hard, knocking him to the ground and out of the line of fire. Luke scrambled to draw his gun, but the shooter was already on the move, ducking for cover as more shots rang out.

"Shots fired! Officer down!" Luke yelled into the radio as he dove behind cover, his eyes wide as he over looked at her, panic etched into his features. "Torres!"

Riley crouched behind a rusted metal crate, her breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Her fingers tightened around her gun, her eyes scanning the room for movement. Across the room, Luke was behind an overturned table, his focus laser-sharp as he signaled to her with a quick nod.

Riley's arm throbbed, but she gritted her teeth and pulled her own weapon, covering Luke as he returned fire. Shots rang out, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Riley ducked instinctively, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hear the bullets ricocheting off the metal, feel the vibration of them slamming into the walls.

"Riley!" Luke's voice was rough, tense. "You good?"

She wiped the sweat from her brow, trying to steady her breathing. "Yeah," she called back, glancing around the edge of the crate. "I'm pinned down. Can you get a shot?"

Luke leaned out from his cover, firing off a few rounds before ducking back behind the table. "Not from here. We need to move."

Riley's pulse quickened. The shooter had them locked down, and the exits were blocked. The only way out was through. She met Luke's gaze from across the room, and in that brief moment, a silent understanding passed between them.

"On three," Luke said, his voice low but firm.

Riley nodded, adjusting her grip on her gun. She could hear the footsteps of the man approaching, the click of a gun being reloaded.

"One... two... three!"

They both moved at the same time, Riley firing at the man as she darted toward a stack of barrels. The return fire was immediate, bullets whizzing past her as she ran. She hit the ground behind cover, barely making it in time as shots slammed into the barrels, splintering wood and sending debris flying.

Luke was moving too, his aim steady as he fired at their attacker. The man grunted, and stumbled as a bullet hit him in the leg and he crumpled to the floor.

The sudden silence that followed was almost jarring, the echoes of gunfire still ringing in her ears. Riley slowly stood up, her muscles tight and aching, scanning the room for any signs of movement. Luke was already moving toward her, his gun still in hand, his eyes searching the shadows for any remaining threats.

Within minutes, backup swarmed the building, officers flooding in and taking control of the situation. The shooter was disarmed and cuffed, and the man Luke had been untying was hauled out of the room along with the woman who had run earlier.

Once the chaos had subsided, Riley found herself standing by one of the squad cars, pressing a hand to her arm to staunch the blood. Luke stormed over, his face tight with anger.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, his voice harsh. "You could've been killed!"

"You're mad at me?" she asked incredulously. "You could have been shot!"

"You were shot!"

"I'm fine," she snapped back, even as the burning pain pulsed through her arm.

Luke sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Let me see," he demanded, grabbing at her arm.

Riley yanked it away. "I'm fine, Maddox. It's just a graze."

He wasn't listening. His hands hovered over her like he didn't know what to do, his breath ragged. "You could've—" He stopped himself with a frustrated groan, frustration and fear mixing into one.

"I didn't, alright? I'm fine!" She held his gaze, her patience wearing thin. "You need to stop treating me like I'm going to break every time we're in a dangerous situation."

Luke's eyes narrowed, his anger returning in full force. "And you need to stop making reckless choices just to prove something."

Before she could argue back, paramedics arrived and whisked her away to the hospital, leaving Luke behind in a haze of fear and anger.

_________________________________________________________________

At the hospital, Riley was done. She was tired of Luke's overprotectiveness, and she needed space. As soon as the staff started treating her, she told them to keep Maddox out.

"Just tell him I'm fine," she said, her voice clipped. "But I don't need him hovering."

The nurse raised an eyebrow but nodded. "I'll pass the message."

Riley leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her arm throbbed from the wound, but it wasn't the physical pain that bothered her—it was Luke. The way he looked at her, like she was made of glass, like he couldn't trust her to take care of herself.

She needed him to stop treating her like she was fragile. But every time she saw that fear in his eyes, it made her feel like she was letting him down, like she was living under the shadow of his dead trainee.

___________________________________________________

Three days later, Riley was back at the station, cleared for duty. She hadn't seen Luke since the incident, and part of her was relieved. But as soon as she walked through the door, there he was, leaning against the lockers with a look that was equal parts angry and concerned.

"Why the hell did you block me from seeing you?" he demanded the moment she walked in.

Riley sighed, not wanting to get into it, but knowing there was no avoiding it. "Because you were freaking out. I didn't need you hovering over me, acting like I was going to die."

"I wasn't—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn't hovering. I was worried."

"You treat me like I'm going to die if I step out of line," Riley said, frustration bubbling up again. "I'm not Calloway, Luke. I'm not going to crumble. You have to stop treating me like I'm—"

"Like you're what? A liability?" His voice was sharp now, but there was pain beneath it. "This isn't about you not being strong enough. It's about you not listening. You keep making reckless choices, and one day it's going to get you killed."

The silence between them was thick, heavy with everything neither of them was saying. Finally, Luke let out a long breath, rubbing a hand across his face. "I looked more into that strip club," he said, his voice quieter now, calmer. "There's more to it. I think it's part of a bigger drug operation. They've been flying under the radar for a while, but there's always been a couple of disturbances per year - more than normal for a strip club." He passed her a file he'd been holding. As Riley flipped through the pictures, she began to get more and more excited. "Callouts to this club have been happening once every couple of months - but if you look at the timing of it, it is always on the 15th. This could be the lead we need."

Riley's eyes lit up. "You think we can tie it all together?"

Luke nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I think we can."

For the first time in days, Riley felt a surge of excitement instead of anger. They headed to the evidence room, poring over files and old reports, piecing together the web of connections that pointed to a much larger drug ring.

Luke leaned over the table, his muscular shoulders flexing as he flipped through a stack of papers. Riley tried not to notice, but her eyes lingered for a second too long. She quickly shifted her focus back to the task at hand.

After hours of digging, they'd traced the pattern back for years. Several of the reports even included the fact that drugs had been recovered from the scene - quantities more than would be normal for a bar.

Riley looked up at Luke, grinning. "I think we've got them."

Luke smirked back, a spark of something new between them. "Let's take them down."