The following week was filled with late-night recon shifts in a cramped surveillance van, parked a block away from the strip club. The scent of greasy takeout and the hum of the radio filled the air as she and Luke monitored the entrance, noting every car that pulled up and every shady character that walked past.

"Do you really think they're moving drugs?" Riley asked one night, her eyes glued to the club's entrance.

"I do," Luke replied, adjusting the camera's focus. "And if they are, we need to gather enough evidence to take down the whole operation."

They spent hours talking, the conversations drifting from mundane topics—like favorite movies and food preferences—to their pasts. Luke talked about his family, his voice softening as he recounted their Sunday dinners.

"You know, my mom goes all out," he said with a slight smile. "We have everything—lasagna, roasted chicken, my dad's famous cornbread. It's like a feast every week. My brothers and I joke that we need to work out just to make up for it. But it's the best time, being all together."

Riley leaned back in her seat, the warmth of his memories washing over her. "That sounds nice," she said, her voice softening. "I don't remember my mom. She left just after I turned three, and my dad... well, he wasn't exactly a role model. He drank a lot and had a temper, and he pushed me around sometimes. My brothers? They were either never around or too busy with their own lives to care. I think I wished they weren't around most of the time, honestly. They had their own things going on—drugs, gangs... just the same old stories from our neighborhood. But my younger brother, Josh? He was the light of my life. We were inseparable."

A smile crept onto her face as she spoke of him. "We used to steal a box of cereal from our neighbor's pantry and sneak into the drive-in movies. I remember one night, we sat on the roof of their garage, watching the stars and eating dry cereal out of the box. It felt like we were invincible, just two kids against the world. He was the only person who made me feel like I mattered."

Luke listened, his expression shifting as he absorbed her words. "It sounds like you two had something special," he said softly.

"Yeah, we did," Riley said, her smile fading slightly. "But after he got caught up in all that mess, everything changed. He ended up dead, and it felt like my whole world crumbled. That's why I became a cop. I want to help people like him—people who can't escape the cycle of violence and addiction. I don't want anyone else to go through what we did."

Luke nodded slowly, his gaze intense. He was silent for a few moments, then his eyes flicked up to meet hers. "You're a tough one, Torres," he said, his voice gravel.

Riley gave him a small smile, and turned her attention back to the door of the club.

____________________________________________________________

Another week of long hours in the surveillance van had passed, and the tension that once lingered between Riley and Luke had gradually eased. The awkward silences had given way to small talk and the occasional shared joke, a subtle but welcome shift in the air. Their partnership felt more natural now, like they had settled into an unspoken rhythm, trusting each other more with each passing day.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Luke sat beside her, his jaw clenched, his focus unwavering as he watched the feeds on the screen. He hadn't said much since they got in the van, his usual intensity even more pronounced tonight.

But as comfortable as things had become, there was still a question nagging at the back of Riley's mind, one she had wanted to ask Luke for days but hadn't quite found the courage to voice yet. The silence between them was pressing, the words stuck in her throat. She needed to know. She needed to understand. But asking felt like stepping on a landmine.

She swallowed hard and cleared her throat, breaking the silence that had settled between them for too long. "Luke," she started quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I ask you something?"

His eyes flicked toward her, a brief glance, before he returned his focus to the monitors. "Yeah," he said gruffly, though there was a guardedness in his tone.

Riley hesitated, her fingers curling into the fabric of her pants as she worked up the courage. "What... what happened with Calloway?"

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and dangerous. For a long moment, Luke didn't answer, his jaw tightening visibly. She could see the muscles in his neck tense, and her stomach twisted, regretting bringing it up. But then, he exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, his eyes darkening.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, she thought he might change the subject like he always did. But then he let out a long breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He didn't look at her, his voice low and strained.

"Calloway was my trainee," he started, his words slow and deliberate. "Bright kid. Too eager sometimes, but...he was good. Better than most rookies I'd trained. We had been working together for almost a year. He reminded me of myself when I started out—always wanting to prove something, always pushing the limits. I thought I could keep him grounded, you know? Keep him from making the same mistakes I did."

Riley listened in silence, sensing the rawness in his voice.

"It was a routine call," Luke continued, his eyes still not meeting Riley's. "Just a domestic disturbance. We'd responded to a hundred like it before. Nothing felt off, nothing seemed dangerous. But when we got there..." His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair. "Things went south fast."

He paused for a moment, the memory clearly playing out in his mind. Riley leaned forward slightly, her heart sinking as she watched him struggle with the words.

"There was a woman inside," he said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. "She was hurt badly. Her boyfriend had a gun, and he wasn't gonna let us take him in quietly. I told Calloway to stay back, to wait for backup, but...he didn't listen. He thought he could handle it. Thought he could save her." Luke's hands tightened into fists on his knees, the muscles in his jaw clenching. "He went in alone while I was checking the perimeter."

Riley's stomach twisted at the thought of Calloway, young and brave, rushing into danger without realizing how bad it really was.

"I heard the shot," Luke said, his voice rough with emotion. "Before I even made it to the door, I heard it. By the time I got inside...he was already down. The guy had shot him in the chest." He finally looked up at Riley, his eyes filled with guilt and something deeper—something darker. "I tried to save him. I did everything I could, but...it wasn't enough."

Riley felt her throat tighten, her heart aching for him. She had known about Calloway, known that he had died in the line of duty, but hearing the story from Luke made it so much more real. So much more painful.

"He died trying to be the hero," Luke whispered. "And it was my fault. I should've stopped him. I should've...done something. Anything."

"Luke, it wasn't your fault," Riley said softly. She moved slowly, tentatively, as she gently rested her hand on his arm. "You couldn't have known."

He shook his head, his eyes filled with anguish. "I knew he was too green. I knew he wasn't ready for that kind of situation, and I still let him go in. I should've protected him, Riley. I should've been the one to take that shot, not him."

Riley felt tears welling up in her eyes. She had never seen Luke like this—so vulnerable, so broken. His pain was palpable, and it crushed her to see him like this.

"He was a good kid," Luke continued, his voice a strained whisper. "Full of potential. And now...he's gone. Because I failed him."

"You didn't fail him," Riley said firmly, squeezing his knee. "You were there for him, you tried to save him. That's more than most would do."

Luke's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He just stared at her, the weight of his guilt hanging heavy between them.

"Luke," she said softly. "You're a good cop. You care. That's why you feel this way. But holding on to it...you're just punishing yourself for something that was out of your control."

His eyes searched hers, as if looking for some kind of absolution, some kind of release from the torment he had been living with for so long.

Riley took a deep breath. "Calloway knew the risks. We all do. It's not your fault, Luke."

They both fell silent, the weight of their shared experiences settling around them. Riley felt a connection that was both unexpected and profound—a bond forged in the fires of loss and determination.

"Pizza or tacos?" Luke asked, shifting the mood.

"Tacos. They're just more versatile," she replied with a grin.

"Really? I'm a pizza guy myself. You can't beat a good pepperoni."

"Yeah, but can you make a breakfast pizza?" she countered.

He stared at her as if she had three heads. "Have... you had a breakfast taco? Is that a thing?" he laughed, shaking his head.

But beneath the laughter, tension still simmered. Riley could feel Luke's protective instincts surfacing every time they witnessed a potential deal going down. He was cautious, often reluctant to act unless they had enough evidence.

____________________________________________________

One night, they watched as a moving truck pulled up to the club. Several men with guns climbed out, their movements hurried. They began to unload crates. Lots of them. Riley leaned closer to the window, her heart racing. "Something's off, Luke. We should check it out."

"No," he said, his tone firm. "We stay put. We need to gather more intel first."

Riley sighed and raised her binoculars once again, when some movement in the passenger seat caught her eye. She strained to make out what was happening, when someone flicked on the lights outside of the building.

"Luke," She gasped. "That's a kid. There is a kid in the passenger seat." Luke jerked his head in her direction as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. He quickly grabbed his binoculars.

Riley's whole body tensed as she watched a man with a gun walk up to the passenger seat and let the kid out. The boy gave him a fist bump and then walked into the building.

Immediately, Riley reached for her gun and grabbed for the door handle. In a flash, Luke had grabbed her wrist. "Don't even think about it," he growled.

Riley gaped at him.

"I know you want to run in there, guns blazing." Luke sighed, a pained look on his face. "But if we do that, we risk all of those people's lives, not to mention the kid's life, ruin months of hard investigation, and probably die in the process. The kid's not in any danger."

Riley felt the frustration boil over. "You're thinking too much like a cop! We have to do something before someone gets hurt!"

"Riley!" He turned to her, his voice raised. "We're not doing this your way. It's not about what you think. It's about the bigger picture. We have to do this right."

"Luke," Riley pleaded. "He can't be more than twelve years old. He is in danger, Luke! We can't just sit back and wait for something bad to happen to him!"

Before he could respond, she jerked the door open, determined to intervene, but he grabbed her around the waist, yanking her back.

"Don't," he warned, his voice low and intense. "You can't just run out there."

"Let go of me!" she snapped, shaking free of his grip. She glared at him.

He spoke in a low, dangerous voice."Collect yourself. Now. Or I will handcuff you to the seat." Anger flared in his eyes. "You're acting like a rookie, not someone who knows how to think on their feet. If you rush in without backup, you're going to get yourself killed, and ruin this entire operation!"

Riley huffed and ground her teeth, but let it go. They spent the remainder of the evening in a tense silence.