Luke sat in a dark corner of the underground bar, the air thick with the stench of stale beer and cigarettes. The place was a dump—peeling paint on the walls, mismatched furniture, and a bar that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. But that's exactly why they used it. No one came here unless they were hiding from something.

His handler, Detective Jackson, slid into the seat across from him, wearing his usual carefree smirk. Luke immediately leaned forward, keeping his voice low, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching too closely. He didn't trust anyone here, especially not the shady types lingering at the bar.

"Shipments are moving soon," Luke muttered. "Three of them. They've been setting up for the last week. But I still can't get a solid lead on the supplier. They're good at keeping that close to the chest."

Jackson nodded, his fingers drumming idly on the grimy tabletop. "I figured as much. They've been tightening things up since we started closing in. We need the supplier though. They're the key to shutting this down."

Luke let out a quiet sigh. "I know. I'm working on it, but the closer I get, the more paranoid they become. William keeps moving people around, making last-minute changes. It's like they know someone's watching."

"That's why you're there," Jackson said, his tone light, though Luke could tell he was serious beneath the casual exterior. Jackson never let things get too heavy, even in situations like this.

Luke leaned back, his mind elsewhere for a moment. He wanted to ask earlier, but it felt too personal, too revealing. He stared at Jackson for a beat before finally speaking. "How's Riley?"

Jackson raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. "Riley? She was cleared to come back today. First day back and all. Didn't see her, though."

A small knot of worry formed in Luke's stomach. "You didn't see her? Was she at the briefing this morning?"

Jackson shrugged nonchalantly, taking a swig of his drink. "Nah, I didn't catch her. Maybe she was late. You know, first day back, might've hit snooze too many times." He laughed lightly, as if it were no big deal.

But to Luke, it was. The knot of concern tightened further. Riley being late wasn't like her—at least, not without a good reason. Luke would have thought she'd be banging on the sergeant's door, bright and early- trying to get back on the case. He knew she was tough, could handle herself better than most, but after everything they'd been through recently, his protective instincts flared up.

"She's probably fine," Jackson continued, brushing it off. "Adjusting back, you know how it is. Gotta get back in the swing of things after mandatory leave."

But Luke wasn't so easily convinced. He kept his expression neutral, though inside, the concern was bubbling over. "Yeah, maybe," he muttered, trying to sound casual. "But keep an eye out. Let me know if she's...off. Anything strange."

Jackson chuckled again, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, Maddox. She's tough as nails. She'll be fine."

Luke forced a smile, but his mind was already racing. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. As Jackson went on about the case, Luke's thoughts kept drifting back to Riley. The fact that Jackson hadn't seen her all day gnawed at him.

Luke paced outside Riley's apartment, his heart pounding harder with each passing second. She hadn't shown up for her first day back, and that wasn't like her. Not after everything she'd been through to get cleared for duty. He figured maybe she'd slept through her alarm or something small like that. But now he wasn't so sure.

He knocked again, harder this time. "Riley?" His voice echoed in the hallway, but there was still no answer. Anxiety twisted in his gut.

They hadn't spoken since that morning—the night of her breakdown, the kiss the morning after, everything that followed. Undercover operations came with a strict no-contact policy- no links to the outside world. He was risking everything just by being here, but he had to see her, to know she was okay. Luke reached for the doorknob, not even sure why, and when it turned easily in his hand, a sense of dread washed over him. Unlocked. She always locked her door.

He pushed it open slowly, stepping inside. The apartment was eerily quiet. Sunlight streamed in through the blinds, casting long shadows over the furniture. Everything looked normal—too normal—but there was no sign of her.

"Riley?" he called again, his voice more urgent now. He moved through the living room, checking for any signs that she had left in a hurry, but it looked like she'd just stepped out. Her phone was sitting on the counter next to her house keys, untouched. Panic surged in his chest as he stared at them.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. This didn't make any sense. She was supposed to be back at the station today, ready to face the job again. They hadn't spoken since her mandated leave, but that was nothing new. He'd given her space, figuring she needed time. Maybe that was a mistake.

Grabbing his phone, Luke immediately dialed Tim. It rang twice before his fellow officer picked up.

"Maddox?" Tim picked up on the second ring, sounding confused. "... What's up? Aren't you undercover?"

"Have you heard from Riley?" Luke asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "She didn't show up today, and her door was unlocked. Her phone and keys are here, but she's not."

Tim paused for a moment. "No, man. I haven't heard from her in days. Last I saw her, she was hanging with Julie. Why? What's going on?"

"I don't know. Something's not right." Luke swallowed hard. "I'm calling Julie next. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Yeah, do that. I'll check in with Brett, see if he's talked to her."

Luke didn't respond before hanging up and dialing Julie's number. His hand was shaking as he held the phone to his ear. After a few rings, she answered.

"Hey, Luke. What's up?"

"Julie, have you talked to Riley in the last few days?" he asked, his voice sharper than intended.

There was a pause. "No... I haven't. Why? What's going on?"

Luke explained quickly, trying to hold his composure. "She's not here. I don't know where she is, and no one's heard from her in days."

Julie's voice turned serious. "I'll meet you at the station."

Luke hung up without another word and tried calling Brett next. Nothing. No one had seen her in three days. His stomach churned with the weight of that revelation. How could she be missing for that long and no one notice? Guilt gnawed at him—he should have checked on her, should have followed up. Why the hell did he think staying away was a good idea?

Within ten minutes, Luke barged into the station, his mind racing, blood pumping with fear and frustration. He barely acknowledged the officers milling about as he marched straight to Sergeant Donnelly's office and slammed the door open without knocking.

Donnelly looked up from his desk, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Maddox, what the hell—"

"It's Riley," Luke said, his voice tight. "She's missing."

Donnelly's expression shifted instantly from irritation to concern. "What do you mean missing?"

"She didn't show up for her first day back. I went to her apartment—it was unlocked. Her phone and keys were inside, but she's gone. Tim, Julie, Brett—no one's heard from her in *three days*."

Donnelly stood up, the weight of Luke's words sinking in. "You're sure? This isn't just—"

"No, this isn't her taking a break. Something's wrong, and we need to find her. Now."

Donnelly swore under his breath, reaching for his radio. "Alright. We'll get an all-hands-on-deck search going. I'll put out a BOLO, and we'll start canvassing her neighborhood. We'll get patrol units involved, detectives—everything we've got."

Luke's chest tightened as he heard those words. He had faced countless dangerous situations on the job, but the thought of Riley being in danger twisted his insides in ways he couldn't handle.

He couldn't lose her. Not after everything.

Donnelly started barking orders, and within minutes, the station was buzzing with activity. Officers were alerted, and the search for Riley Torres officially began.