At the station

Wesley and Lucy found a moment of solitude in the break room, away from Rosalind's suffocating presence. As Wesley poured himself some coffee, Lucy walked over, her concern evident. She gently kissed his cheek and asked, "Are you okay?"

Wesley nodded, though the weariness in his eyes told a different story. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... I never thought I'd have to see Rosalind again."

Lucy offered him a reassuring smile. "It's going to be okay."

Wesley pulled out his phone, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. As he scrolled through his contacts, Lucy noticed and asked, "What are you doing?"

"I was thinking of calling Melissa to check on the twins," Wesley replied. "Maybe FaceTime them, just to see their faces."

Lucy studied him briefly, then said, "Hanging out with Rosalind has really messed with your head, hasn't it?"

Wesley sighed, nodding slowly. "She knows how to get in my head, honey. It's like she's always one step ahead. What else can I do?"

Lucy placed a comforting hand on Wesley's arm, her eyes full of understanding. "You're doing what you can, Wes. That's all anyone can ask of you."

Wesley looked at her, grateful for the support. "I just hate that she still has this kind of power over me. After everything, I should be past it."

"She's a master manipulator," Lucy said gently. "She knows exactly how to push your buttons because she's been studying you for years. But you're stronger than her, Wesley. You have to remember that."

Wesley nodded, but his expression remained troubled. "I know, but it's hard to shake. Every time I think I'm free of her, she finds a way to pull me back in. It's like she enjoys seeing me struggle."

Lucy's grip on his arm tightened slightly as if to anchor him. "Then don't give her the satisfaction. You're here, doing your job, protecting people—protecting us. That's what matters. Not whatever twisted game she's trying to play."

Wesley took a deep breath, her words sinking in. "You're right. I can't let her get to me. Not when I have so much more to fight for now."

Lucy smiled, her eyes softening as she saw him start to regain his composure. "Exactly. And if you ever need to talk or just vent, I'm here. You're not alone in this."

Wesley smiled back, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. "Thanks, Lucy. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," she replied, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Now, let's check on the twins and remind yourself of what's really important."

Wesley nodded, grateful for the grounding moment. He dialed Melissa's number and waited, the phone ringing in his ear. As the call connected and the familiar faces of his children appeared on the screen, he felt a wave of calm wash over him. At that moment, surrounded by Lucy's unwavering support and the innocent smiles of his children, Wesley knew he could face whatever came next—even if it meant confronting the darkest parts of his past.

Later

In Grey's office

Wesley stepped into Grey's office, his gaze sweeping the room as he noticed Lopez, Harper, Nick, and John already gathered there. He made his way over to John, offering a fist bump. "Hey, man," Wesley greeted.

John grinned, responding, "Hey, Wes. Or should I say, Mike?"

Wesley chuckled, but there was a nervous edge to it. Grey, ever perceptive, caught on and remarked, "You don't seem like yourself, Michael."

Wesley sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's because I'm not. Rosalind's behavior—it's exactly why I left her for La Fiera."

Harper raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. "I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did with Rosalind. She's too crazy for anyone. And if you need me to keep up the act as your girlfriend around her, I'm in. I know you don't want Lucy anywhere near her if she figures out who you're really with."

Wesley nodded, his expression serious. "Exactly. Rosalind's unpredictable. If she ever knew about Lucy and the baby, she'd use it against us. Lucy, Nora, and Mason are the best parts of my life, and I can't let Rosalind get close to any of them unless I'm sure it's safe."

Harper asked again, "So, you want me to keep pretending to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," Wesley confirmed. "I already told Lucy about the plan."

Harper gave a small nod of approval. "Good. One less thing to worry about."

Grey steered the conversation back on track. "Enough about that. How is this even possible? The only person who knew where that body was buried is Rosalind, and she's been on death row for four years."

Wesley's gaze drifted toward the processing area, where Rosalind sat, staring at him. The sight of her unnerved him, so he walked over and closed the blinds, shutting her out of sight.

Nick broke the silence, "Maybe she had a partner from back then, someone we missed."

"Or she inspired a new killer," Harper suggested.

John shook his head, skeptical. "And she just so happened to find the exact dig spot in the middle of a state park? No way. There's more to this. They've got to be working together."

Grey's brow furrowed in thought. "But how? All contact between her and the outside world is heavily monitored."

Wesley's eyes narrowed as he thought. "Let's ask her directly."

Nick quickly intervened, "Not yet. This was all part of her plan from the start. She's been manipulating us since she cut that deal with Del Monte."

Harper turned to Wesley, her gaze intense. "You know her better than anyone, Mike. What's her next move?"

Wesley didn't hesitate. "She wants attention."

Nick nodded. "Then let's withhold it. We won't give her the satisfaction until we've uncovered everything about that second body."

Just then, Lopez's phone rang, cutting through the tension. She glanced at the screen before excusing herself from the room. "I need to take this," she said, stepping out of the office.

Later

John, Nick, Harper, Grey, and Wesley stood in tense silence, watching the monitors that displayed Rosalind sitting calmly on a bench in the processing room, her hands cuffed in front of her. She appeared eerily composed, almost as if she were waiting for something.

John broke the silence first, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so calm in a situation like this."

Nick, leaning against the wall, added, "That's what happens when you don't have a conscience. No guilt, no fear—nothing."

Wesley's expression darkened as he stared at the screen. "After all the kills I made as 'The Killer'... I felt guilt after every single one. When I close my eyes, I see their faces, every single one of them."

Grey glanced over at Wesley, his tone firm but sympathetic. "Michael, you can't blame yourself for the life you were forced into. You never chose to be an assassin."

Wesley let out a heavy sigh, his voice tinged with regret. "It doesn't matter. Back then, I thought being with Rosalind might help me numb the guilt, and help me move past what I'd done. But it never worked. If I had to shoot someone now, I'd still feel that weight."

Nick nodded, his voice quieter. "That's because you have a conscience, Knight. You care, and that's why it haunts you."

Wesley shook his head slowly, his gaze distant. "No, I don't. Rosalind's right."

Harper, sensing the shift in his tone, turned to him with concern. "About what?"

Wesley looked up, meeting Harper's eyes with a haunting intensity. "The darkness is still there, buried deep. And every time I look in the mirror, I still see the monster I used to be."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Wesley's words hanging in the air. Each of them knew the struggles they faced, but the shadows from Wesley's past seemed to reach out, threatening to pull him back into the darkness he was fighting so hard to escape.

Grey's expression hardened as Wesley's words sank in. He clenched his jaw, visibly frustrated, and finally broke the silence.

"I knew it was a bad idea to let you anywhere near Rosalind," Grey said, his voice laced with a mix of concern and anger. "You were too close to her before, and now, she's dragging you back into that darkness."

Wesley's eyes narrowed, the tension in the room rising. "You think I don't know that? You think I wanted to be here, face to face with her again?"

Grey took a step closer, his tone sharp. "You had a choice, Wesley. I warned you about getting too involved. She's dangerous, and you know that better than anyone. Yet you're letting her get under your skin."

Wesley's frustration boiled over, and he stepped forward, meeting Grey's gaze head-on. "I didn't have a choice, Grey! I didn't ask for this. But if anyone is going to keep her from hurting more people, it's me. I'm the only one who knows how she thinks, how she manipulates."

Grey didn't back down. "And that's exactly why you shouldn't be here! She's using that against you, playing on your guilt, your past—everything she knows will get to you."

Wesley's voice lowered, a dangerous edge creeping in. "You think I don't see that? You think I don't know what she's trying to do? I'm not the same person I was back then, Grey. I've changed. But I won't let her win by running away."

Grey shook his head, his frustration evident. "This isn't about winning or losing, Wesley. It's about keeping you from falling back into the darkness. I can see it happening already."

Wesley's fists clenched at his sides, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and pain. "I'm not falling back, Grey. I'm fighting it every second I'm here. But I can't just walk away and leave this unfinished. Rosalind's out there, playing games with people's lives, and I won't let her drag more innocent people down with her."

The room fell into a heavy silence again, the air thick with unresolved tension. Grey's gaze softened slightly, the anger giving way to concern. "I'm just trying to protect you, Wesley. I don't want to see you lose yourself in this."

Wesley exhaled slowly, the anger dissipating as he met Grey's eyes. "I know you're trying to help, but I need to do this. For my sake, and for everyone she's hurt. I won't let her destroy anyone else."

Grey studied Wesley for a long moment, then finally nodded, though the worry didn't leave his eyes. "Just be careful, Michael. Don't let her take you down with her."

Wesley gave a small, determined nod. "I won't."

Grey's expression softened, the tension between them beginning to ebb away. He looked at Wesley with a mix of sternness and paternal concern, his voice steady but gentler than before.

"Wesley, listen to me," Grey began, his tone more composed. "You're not a monster. You never were. I've seen men who've lost themselves to the darkness, but you... you've always fought against it. You've never let it define you."

Wesley's gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of Grey's words pressing on him. He didn't respond immediately, the conflict within him still simmering.

Grey took a step closer, his voice softening even further. "I know you're carrying a lot of guilt, more than anyone should have to bear. But that guilt, that conscience—that's what makes you different. It's what proves you're not the monster you think you are."

Wesley's shoulders sagged slightly, the burden of his thoughts evident in his posture. "I've done things, Grey. Things I can't forget, no matter how hard I try. When I look in the mirror, I still see... him. The Killer."

Grey's expression grew more resolute as he placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "You're not that person anymore, Wesley. And you're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who see the good in you—even when you can't see it in yourself."

Wesley's eyes flickered with emotion, the vulnerability he usually kept buried rising to the surface. "I don't know how to let go of it, Grey. It's always there, haunting me."

Grey's grip on Wesley's shoulder tightened, his voice filled with sincerity. "You don't have to carry it alone. I've watched you grow, Wesley. I've seen the man you've become. And I want you to know... I see you as my son."

Wesley's eyes widened slightly, the unexpected declaration taking him by surprise. He blinked, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the words.

Grey continued, his voice unwavering. "I've always respected you as a colleague, but more than that, I've cared about you like family. You've been through hell, and yet, you've fought your way out. That's something a father would be proud of."

Wesley's voice was rough with emotion as he finally spoke, "Grey, I... I don't know what to say."

Grey smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting a mix of warmth and resolve. "You don't have to say anything. Just remember that you're not alone. And no matter what, I'll always be here for you."

Wesley swallowed hard, his emotions swirling in a complex mix of gratitude and relief. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope—a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as lost as he feared.

"Thank you," Wesley finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. "That means more to me than you know."

Grey nodded, his expression softening further. "You're stronger than you realize, Wesley. And together, we'll make sure Rosalind doesn't take that away from you—or from anyone else."

Wesley nodded, a sense of determination returning to his eyes. "We'll stop her, Grey. I promise you that."

Grey squeezed Wesley's shoulder one last time before stepping back, giving him a reassuring look. "I know we will. And I'll be right here, every step of the way."

Sean walked into the office, and Grey immediately looked up, asking, "Anything?"

Sean shook his head slightly, a hint of frustration in his voice. "The warden's having her cell taken down to the studs, but so far, they've come up empty. No contraband, no hidden messages. And she hasn't had a single visitor besides her lawyer since she's been inside."

John leaned forward, thinking aloud. "Who's the lawyer? Could they have been acting as a go-between?"

Sean quickly dismissed the idea. "No way. I know this guy—he's a straight shooter. There's no chance he'd be mixed up in something like this."

John sighed, his frustration mirroring Sean's. "So, we're back to square one."

Nick interjected, "Rosalind's been planning this for at least a year. She's too smart to leave any obvious breadcrumbs."

Sean suggested, "So, we take a run at her."

Nick shook his head. "No. I'll take a run at her."

Wesley crossed his arms, his tone skeptical. "She won't talk to you."

Nick smirked, a challenge in his eyes. "I'll bet you 50 bucks she will."

Wesley didn't flinch. "Prepare to lose. She'll ask for me."

Nick rolled his eyes as he headed for the door. "Of course, everything's about the great Michael Knight."

As Nick exited, Harper turned to the others, raising an eyebrow. "Did he forget she tattooed 'Property of The Killer' on her body?"

John nodded, still puzzled. "Seems like he did."

Sean, still processing, added, "I don't know if that's true. The tattoo, I mean."

Harper shook her head, disbelief evident in her expression. "Whether it's true or not, it's clear Rosalind's got her hooks in deep. She's always had a way of twisting the truth to her advantage."

Wesley clenched his jaw, his mind racing with memories he'd rather forget. "She's a master manipulator. Even if that tattoo doesn't exist, she'll make us believe it does just to mess with our heads."

John leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the door Nick had just walked through. "He's walking into a trap. Rosalind's been waiting for this."

Grey, who had been silent, finally spoke up, his voice firm. "Then we make sure he's ready for whatever she throws at him."

Wesley looked over at Grey, a mix of concern and determination in his eyes. "She's going to ask for me, Grey. And when she does, I need to be the one in that room."

Grey locked eyes with Wesley, his expression unreadable. "I know. But I don't want her getting any more of a grip on you than she already has."

Wesley sighed, frustration bubbling up. "You don't get it. If I'm not in that room, she'll find another way to manipulate us. This isn't just about what she wants. It's about staying one step ahead of her."

Grey took a deep breath, considering Wesley's words. "I do get it. But I also know how dangerous she is, especially to you. She's not just playing games; she's trying to pull you back into a darkness you've worked so hard to escape."

Wesley's voice softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "I can handle it, Grey. I have to."

Grey studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But remember, you're not alone in this. We're a team, and we'll face her together."

Wesley gave a slight nod, appreciating Grey's support. "Thanks. I just... I don't want her to think she's won."

Harper, sensing the weight of the moment, stepped forward. "We'll make sure she doesn't. Rosalind may be smart, but we've got something she doesn't—each other."

John, still leaning against the wall, added, "And we're not going to let her get away with whatever she's planning. Not this time."

As the team exchanged determined glances, the tension in the room seemed to ease just a bit. They were up against one of the most dangerous minds they'd ever encountered, but they had something stronger than Rosalind's manipulation: trust in each other.

Just as they were about to strategize further, the door swung open, and Nick walked back in, his expression grim. "She asked for you, Knight."

Wesley's heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his face neutral. "Of course, she did."

Grey stepped forward, placing a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Remember what we talked about. You're stronger than she is."

Wesley nodded, drawing strength from Grey's words. "Let's do this."

With that, the team headed out, ready to face whatever twisted game Rosalind had in store for them. But this time, they were prepared. This time, they would be the ones to outmaneuver her.

As they walked down the corridor toward the processing room, Wesley shot a glance at Nick, who was trying to hide his frustration under a mask of indifference.

"Looks like you owe me fifty bucks," Wesley said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Nick rolled his eyes, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled bill. "Yeah, yeah, Knight. Don't spend it all in one place."

Wesley took the money with a chuckle. "I'll buy you a coffee later. You look like you could use it."

Nick gave him a sideways look, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Just make sure you don't let her get under your skin, alright?"

Wesley's expression grew more serious as they neared the door. "She's not going to win, Nick. Not this time."

Nick nodded, his demeanor shifting to something more supportive. "I know. Just remember, we've got your back."

Wesley took a deep breath as they reached the door to the processing room. He could feel the weight of the moment, the pressure of facing down someone who knew his darkest secrets and wasn't afraid to use them. But he also felt the strength of his team behind him, a reminder that he wasn't in this alone.

Grey, Harper, and John stood just a few steps behind, their presence a silent show of solidarity. Wesley glanced back at them, drawing one last bit of strength from their unwavering support before he opened the door and stepped inside.

Rosalind sat at the table, handcuffed, but as composed as ever. She looked up as Wesley entered, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "Michael, I knew you'd come."

Wesley remained standing, not allowing her to set the tone. "You wanted to see me. Here I am."

Rosalind's smile widened, but there was something predatory in her eyes. "Of course. You're the only one who truly understands me."

Wesley kept his voice steady, refusing to let her words rattle him. "We're not here to talk about the past, Rosalind. We're here to talk about the bodies you buried."

She tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence. "Bodies? I thought we were going to reminisce about old times. You, me, and all those little secrets we kept."

Wesley leaned forward, his tone hardening. "You're not in control here, Rosalind. We are. So, let's cut the games and get to the truth."

Rosalind's smile faltered just a bit, but she quickly regained her composure. "Oh, Michael, you always were so serious. But fine, if you want to play it that way, I'll tell you what you want to know."

Wesley stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. He knew better than to push her; she thrived on the attention, the back-and-forth. If he kept his cool, she'd reveal more than she intended.

She leaned back in her chair, her eyes never leaving his. "But you should know, Michael, that the truth isn't always what you expect. And sometimes, it's not the truth that hurts the most—it's what comes after."

Wesley's expression remained unreadable. "I'm not afraid of the truth, Rosalind. But you should be."

With that, the room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with the unspoken challenge between them. Wesley knew this was just the beginning of a long, twisted game, but he was ready. He wasn't the man she used to know, and he wasn't going to let her drag him back into the darkness.

Not this time.

Rosalind's smile was a chilling blend of satisfaction and malice as she leaned in slightly. "You know the best part about getting caught? The chance to relive every delicious detail with Nick."

She let out a soft gasp, her eyes lighting up with twisted delight. "I didn't expect that—how much I'd enjoy sharing my... experiences and watching the horror unfold in their eyes. Oh, it didn't get me as high as the murders themselves, of course. Those thrills lasted me for months."

Wesley, maintaining his composure, asked, "Who killed the woman in the grave, Rose?"

But Rosalind wasn't done playing her game. She leaned back, savoring the moment. "Oh, and the trial... God, I adored the trial. Cops are jaded—you have to work so hard to break through that tough exterior. But the jury? Oh, they were something else. And the families, Wesley... Their pain was a feast, a five-star meal I devoured with pleasure."

Wesley, clearly fed up, stood up to leave. "Back to work, beloved. Have someone call me when you're done... pleasuring yourself."

As he turned to walk away, Rosalind's voice cut through the air, sharper than before. "Wait."

Wesley paused, turning back to her, his expression unreadable. "What is it now?"

Rosalind's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something almost vulnerable crossing her face before it quickly vanished. "Before we dive into the questions about the body... can I ask you something first?"

Wesley nodded, his patience wearing thin. "Go ahead."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of curiosity and something darker. "You called me 'beloved.' I thought you didn't love me like you used to."

Wesley's gaze was steady, unflinching. "I don't, Rosalind. That's why it's past tense."

Rosalind's eyes flashed with a mix of confusion and something darker, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. "Then why did you call me 'beloved' if you don't love me anymore?"

Wesley's expression softened, though his eyes remained guarded. "I didn't say I don't love you, Rosalind. I said I don't love you like I used to. There's still something there—a part of me that remembers what we had. But it's a shadow now, nothing more."

A flicker of satisfaction passed over Rosalind's face, quickly followed by a more calculating look. "So, you do still love me... just not as much. What changed? Was it Detective Harper? Did she steal you from me?"

Wesley's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone measured. "Harper didn't steal anything from you, Rosalind. You lost me when you chose your path. She's just... someone who understands the part of me that's trying to leave that darkness behind."

Rosalind tilted her head, her gaze sharp and probing. "You think you can just walk away from it, Wesley? From me? You'll never escape what we were."

Wesley met her gaze with a quiet resolve. "I'm not trying to escape, Rosalind. I'm just trying to live with it. And Harper, she's part of that life now."

Rosalind's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You can't replace me, Wesley. Not with her, not with anyone. I'll always be the one who understands you best."

Wesley stepped closer, his voice steady and firm. "You might understand the darkness, Rosalind, but Harper sees the light in me. That's the difference."

Rosalind's smile faltered, but she quickly masked it with indifference. "You can't have both, Wesley. Sooner or later, you'll realize that."

Wesley didn't waver. "Maybe. But until then, I'll keep trying."

Rosalind leaned back, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Tell me about the body we found, beloved. I only got a glimpse of her face before you whisked me away to your fancy car. How did she die?"

Wesley sat down across from her, his gaze steady. "Preliminary autopsy suggests she suffocated, probably in some kind of enclosed space. Her face showed signs of intradermal hemorrhage."

Rosalind shook her head with a touch of disdain. "Stupid girl. Wasting precious air screaming. She probably shaved an hour off her life with that. What about her hands? Was she trying to claw her way out?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes. It looks like she fought hard. Her last hours must have been unbearable. Now, I've shared something with you. According to the rules of this twisted game, it's your turn. Who killed that woman, Rose?"

Rosalind's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Patience, Officer Knight. We're still in the foreplay stage."

Wesley leaned in slightly, his tone edged with frustration. "Then at least tease me with something. How did the killer know where to find your burial site?"

Rosalind mirrored his movement, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Because I told them. But let me ask you, Michael—if you were trapped like that girl, would you waste your breath in a panic or hold on as long as you could?"

Wesley didn't flinch. "If I were still the assassin I once was, I'd have pulled out my gun and ended it quickly. But now... I'd hold on, as long as I could."

Rosalind raised an eyebrow. "You'd only prolong the suffering, Michael."

Wesley met her gaze without hesitation. "I'd be buying my friends time—the best chance they'd have to find me."

Rosalind's smile turned contemplative. "Maybe that's the difference."

Wesley asked, "Between?"

Rosalind leaned back, her expression shifting. "You and me. I've always known, from the time I was little, that no one was coming to save me. But you knew that too, didn't you? Cross was never there for you like I was. Maybe that's why you're so 'good' now. 'Yes, ma'am. No, ma'am. Serve and protect, ma'am.'"

Wesley's eyes narrowed. "I'm good because I'm not broken. Now, are you going to give us something real, or are we sending you back to prison? Because I'm fine either way. Are you?"

Rosalind's smile returned, but this time it was tinged with something darker. "Fine. I'll take you to the second grave."

Wesley's voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "And what are we going to find there? Another body?"

Rosalind's grin widened a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you will. But first, I need you to do one little thing for me."

Wesley tilted his head, wary. "And what's that?"

Rosalind's gaze turned cold, her smile never faltering. "Ask Armstrong if I was worth it."

Later

Wesley approached Nick in the motor pool, a grim look on his face.

Wesley started, "You don't have to answer, you know. I could just tell Rosalind you said, 'No, it wasn't worth it at all.'"

Nick shook his head. "Nah, she'd see right through that."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I doubt she'd catch it. I don't even know what I'd be lying about."

Nick's expression darkened. "She's talking about the time I caught her. Five years ago."

Wesley nodded, understanding. "Around the same time your wife passed away."

Nick's voice wavered. "Yeah, Rebecca was—she was sick for over a year. I should've taken time off. I was about to... or at least, I keep telling myself I was."

Wesley pressed, "And then you got caught up in the case?"

Nick looked away, his frustration evident. "Look, they'd already found several bodies. The FBI put together a task force, and they asked me to run our side of it. I should've said 'no.'"

Wesley tried to comfort him. "Come on, Nick. No one could've predicted the toll it would take."

Nick's voice was strained. "But I did, Mike. Deep down, I knew. I knew I'd be stuck in the office constantly. Every time I tried to leave, another theory would pop up, and I'd have to chase it. Every time I had a few days off, another body would show up. How could I walk away when families were calling every day, desperate for answers?"

Wesley replied, "Any detective would have done the same."

Nick's voice rose in anger. "No! Knight! Don't let me off that easy! Don't! My wife was dying, and I wasn't there for her. The day she died—I—" Nick's voice broke, but he took a deep breath to regain control. "I wasn't there, and there's no excuse for that."

Wesley said softly, "So, what do you want me to tell Rosalind?"

Nick walked off, leaving Wesley to wrestle with his thoughts.

Later

Wesley walked into the motor pool and got into KITT's driver's seat as he left and he tilted the seat back a little.

Wesley closed his eyes as he began to feel the weight of everything around him.

Later

In Grey's office

Nick, Grey, John, Harper, Sean, and Wesley were gathered around a monitor, watching a live feed from the forensic team as they unearthed two bodies from the shallow graves.

Nick leaned in, scrutinizing the screen. "This one looks like she was killed more recently than the first."

Harper nodded, her expression grim. "Yeah, I'd say three, maybe four months ago."

Grey spoke into his radio, his tone authoritative. "Check for any tattoos on her ribs."

The camera zoomed in as one of the forensic team members carefully lifted the victim's shirt, revealing a series of numbers inked onto her skin. Nick's eyes narrowed as he read them. "Day of Death—September 8th. That's exactly three months ago today."

Wesley frowned, putting the pieces together. "The first body we found was killed exactly three months before that."

Sean's face darkened as he realized the implications. "So, if the pattern holds..."

John checked his watch, his voice tense as he said, "It means someone's getting killed today."

The room went silent, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Wesley broke the silence, his voice low and troubled. "This isn't good."

In the processing room

Wesley, Nick, Grey, and Harper entered the processing room, where Rosalind sat calmly in a holding cell, her eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction.

Wesley stepped forward, his voice firm. "Your accomplice has already chosen their next victim, haven't they?"

Rosalind smirked, tilting her head slightly. "Obviously. It's a ritual, Michael. One that must be followed to the letter."

Nick's patience was wearing thin. "Tell us who it is."

Rosalind leaned back, her smile widening. "Why would I do that, Nicholas? These women—they're as much mine as they are the killer's. Now there's another one, and I'll relish every moment of watching you all scramble to save her."

Grey exchanged a look with Harper, then turned and walked out, his frustration evident. Harper followed, her expression unreadable.

Nick hesitated, his jaw clenched, before he, too, exited the room. Wesley was the last to leave, but before he could close the door, Rosalind's voice rang out.

"I love you, Michael Knight," she said, her tone almost affectionate. "I always will."

Wesley paused, glancing back at her. Rosalind's eyes met his, cold and unwavering. He locked the door behind him, sealing her in the cell before walking back to join the others.

In the processing area, Harper was already strategizing. "We've got less than 24 hours to save this girl. What's the plan?"

Grey nodded, taking charge. "Harper, Nolan, head to the morgue. We need IDs on both bodies. If we can find a connection between the first two victims, it might give us a lead on the third."

Nick crossed his arms, skeptical. "That's a Hail Mary, and you know it."

Grey turned to him, his tone sharp. "You have a better idea?"

Nick's expression hardened. "I'm going to the prison. We need to tear it apart. That's where she's been orchestrating all of this. It's our best shot at finding some evidence."

Grey nodded. "Alright. I'll have Bradford and Chen meet you there. Michael, you want to ride along with Detective Armstrong?"

Wesley gave a quick nod. "Might as well."

Grey looked at John and Harper. "You two—get to the morgue."

The team exchanged glances, determination etched on their faces, before splitting up and heading out to their respective assignments.

Wesley and Nick walked into the motor pool, where KITT was waiting. As they approached, KITT's engine purred to life, and the car's voice greeted them.

"Good afternoon, Michael," KITT said, the smooth tone unmistakable.

Wesley couldn't help but smile. "Afternoon, KITT."

Nick slid into the passenger seat, giving Wesley a sideways glance. "Does he always call you that?"

Wesley chuckled, fastening his seatbelt. "Every time."

Nick shook his head with a smirk. "This car's got more personality than half the people we work with."

KITT responded, "Thank you, Detective Armstrong. I take that as a compliment."

Wesley started the car, and they pulled out of the motorpool. As they drove towards the prison, KITT's onboard systems began pulling up maps, case files, and relevant data on Rosalind's past activities.

"KITT, patch us into any relevant surveillance feeds at the prison," Wesley instructed.

"Already on it, Michael," KITT replied. "Accessing now."

Nick leaned back in his seat, watching as the data flowed across the screens. "You know," he said, turning to Wesley, "this car might actually give us a fighting chance."

Wesley glanced at Nick. "We're gonna need more than a car if Rosalind's behind this."

KITT's voice cut in, "With all due respect, Michael, I am more than just a car."

Wesley grinned. "Point taken, KITT."

Nick shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's hope you're right, KITT. We're gonna need every edge we can get."

As they sped toward the prison, the weight of the situation hung over them. Time was running out, and they knew that saving the next victim would require more than just luck—it would take everything they had.

As they drove, Wesley tapped the dashboard, deep in thought. "KITT, can you rewind the footage from the prison? I want to see if there's any camera that looks directly into Rosalind's cell. Maybe we can catch her doing something that'll give us a lead."

KITT's processors hummed for a moment before responding. "Michael, I'm accessing the prison's surveillance archives now. However, I must inform you that there are no cameras positioned to look directly into Rosalind's cell. The facility follows strict privacy protocols for inmate cells."

Wesley frowned. "So there's no way to see what she's been up to when she's alone?"

"Correct," KITT confirmed. "Her cell is monitored from the outside, but there is no direct visual feed of her activities within the cell itself. The only footage available would show her movements when she's outside the cell, such as during meals or in the common areas."

Nick, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward. "What about the times she was out of her cell? Can you scan those and see if she interacted with anyone who might be connected to what's happening now?"

KITT's screen lit up with various timestamps from the prison's footage. "I can analyze the footage from when she was outside her cell, Michael. Running a facial recognition scan on all individuals she interacted with during that time."

Wesley nodded. "Do it, KITT. Cross-reference those faces with anyone who has ties to our case or fits the profile of our killer."

KITT's screen displayed a progress bar as it worked through the data. "This may take a few moments, Michael."

Wesley glanced over at Nick. "If we can find someone in that footage who's connected, it might be the break we need."

Nick nodded, his expression serious. "We're running out of time. If Rosalind's partner already has their next victim, we need to find them fast."

KITT's voice broke the tension. "Scan complete. I've identified several individuals who interacted with Rosalind during her time outside her cell. However, none of them have direct ties to our case. The interactions appear to be routine—prison staff, other inmates, and her lawyer."

Wesley sighed, frustrated. "So we're still in the dark."

Nick stared out the windshield, his jaw tight. "We might not be able to see what she's been up to in that cell, but there's something she's not telling us. We just have to figure out what it is."

Wesley tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Then we push harder. If there's even a hint of a connection between her and this killer, we'll find it."

KITT's voice was calm and steady. "I will continue to monitor and analyze all available data, Michael. If anything new arises, I will notify you immediately."

"Thanks, KITT," Wesley said, determination in his voice. "We'll crack this. We have to."

Wesley glanced at the clock on KITT's dashboard, the seconds ticking away. "KITT, switch to Attack Mode."

"Switching to Attack Mode, Michael," KITT responded smoothly.

In an instant, KITT's sleek exterior began to shift, panels sliding and locking into place as his form transformed into a more aggressive, aerodynamic shape. The sound of the transformation was a mechanical symphony, the car's profile lowering as it morphed into a high-speed race car. The engine roared to life, and within moments, they were rocketing down the road at incredible speed.

Nick braced himself against the door, eyes wide as he felt the sudden surge of power. "Whoa! How fast does this thing go?"

Wesley smirked, gripping the steering wheel tightly as they weaved through traffic with surgical precision. "Fast enough, Nick."

KITT's voice came through the speakers, calm as ever despite the breakneck speed. "Current velocity is 210 miles per hour and climbing, Michael. We will reach the prison in approximately three minutes."

Nick could barely believe what he was hearing. The scenery outside blurred into a streak of colors, and the G-forces pressed him back into his seat. "This is insane! How is this even legal?"

Wesley grinned. "It's not, technically. But we don't have time to play by the rules."

KITT's adaptive AI adjusted to every curve and obstacle, the car hugging the road as they sped toward their destination. The tires gripped the asphalt like glue, and the suspension adjusted to keep them stable at the extreme speed.

Nick shook his head, a mixture of amazement and disbelief on his face. "This is like something out of a movie."

Wesley glanced over at him, still focused but clearly enjoying the ride. "Welcome to life with KITT. Hang on—we're almost there."

As they neared the prison, KITT's voice chimed in again. "Approaching the facility. Shall I prepare for tactical entry, Michael?"

Wesley's expression turned serious. "No need, KITT. Just get us to the gate as fast as possible."

"Understood," KITT replied, slowing down just enough to safely approach the prison's entrance.

As they pulled up to the gate, the guards barely had time to register what had just happened. KITT's exterior shifted back into his standard mode, and Wesley brought the car to a stop with a smooth, controlled halt.

Nick exhaled, his heart still racing from the adrenaline. "I'll admit, that was... something."

Wesley smirked as he opened the door. "Just another day with KITT. Let's get in there and find out what Rosalind's hiding."

As they came to a stop in front of the prison, Wesley leaned back in his seat and spoke calmly, "KITT, switch to Normal Mode."

"Switching to Normal Mode, Michael," KITT responded.

Once again, KITT's exterior began to shift, this time reverting from the aggressive, race-ready Attack Mode back into his classic 2008 Ford Shelby Mustang GT500 Super Snake form. The sleek race car seamlessly transformed back into the iconic muscle car, the process smooth and efficient.

Nick watched the transformation in awe, shaking his head with a grin. "That's cool. Really cool."

Wesley gave a small, knowing smile as he opened his door and stepped out of the car. "You get used to it."

Nick followed suit, closing the door behind him as they approached the prison entrance. The guards, still trying to process the rapid approach and sudden stop of the vehicle, quickly moved to open the gates, recognizing the urgency in Wesley and Nick's demeanor.

As they walked toward the entrance, Nick glanced over at Wesley. "You know, if you had told me a year ago I'd be riding in a talking, shape-shifting car on my way to interrogate a serial killer's accomplice, I'd have thought you were crazy."

Wesley chuckled softly. "Yeah, it's not exactly standard procedure. But desperate times call for desperate measures."

The heavy doors of the prison loomed ahead as they prepared to enter, the weight of the situation settling back in. As they stepped inside, the cool, sterile atmosphere of the prison surrounded them, a stark contrast to the adrenaline-fueled ride they had just experienced.

Nick's expression turned serious again as they made their way through the security checkpoints. "Let's hope Rosalind's left us something to work with in here."

Wesley nodded, his mind already focused on the task at hand. "We'll find out soon enough. KITT, stay on standby. We might need you again."

"Understood, Michael," KITT's voice echoed in Wesley's earpiece, the AI ever-vigilant.

With that, Wesley and Nick moved deeper into the prison, ready to uncover whatever secrets Rosalind might have left behind.

Later

Hernandez led Wesley, Nick, Tim, and Lucy down the narrow corridor toward Rosalind's cell. As they walked, Hernandez said, "I don't know what you think you're gonna find. We've tossed Rosalind's cell from top to bottom, searched every item in there."

When they reached the cell, Nick glanced at the small, cramped space. "Hey, you never know. Sometimes a fresh set of eyes can help."

Nick and Wesley stepped inside, noting the shredded mattress and overturned items. The room was stripped bare, just as Hernandez had said.

Tim looked around, unimpressed. "This is a dead end."

Wesley remained thoughtful, scanning the room. "Maybe. But maybe not. What Hernandez doesn't have is a talking car. KITT, can you hear me, buddy?"

KITT's voice crackled in Wesley's earpiece. "Of course, Michael."

Wesley smiled faintly. "Can you access my body cam and use infrared to see if anything's hidden?"

Nick, still skeptical, asked, "What could KITT do from outside? He's parked, isn't he?"

Wesley turned to Nick, his eyes steady. "You'd be surprised, Nick. Sometimes the smallest things are the most important."

As Nick began sifting through the boxes on the small table, his hand paused. "Where are the books?"

Lucy, puzzled, asked, "What books?"

Nick's tone grew more urgent. "The books. Rosalind was a voracious reader. There should be books here."

Hernandez shook his head. "She sent them back to the library a couple of days ago."

Lucy's eyes widened. "Right before she came to us."

Tim pieced it together, nodding. "She knew we'd search her things."

Nick's mind raced. "I need a list of every book she checked out in the last six months."

While Nick and the others focused on the missing books, Wesley remained standing by the shelf, his thoughts drifting. There was something here, something subtle that only KITT might detect. And as KITT's analysis continued, Wesley knew they were close to unraveling whatever Rosalind had hidden.

Later

Tim, Lucy, and Nick had been sifting through the books for what felt like hours when Lucy suddenly paused, her fingers brushing against something hidden between the pages. "Uh... I got something," she said, carefully pulling out a folded piece of paper tucked into the book.

Nick leaned in as Lucy unfolded the small note. "It's a code," he said, recognizing the pattern immediately.

Lucy nodded. "A simple substitution cipher. That number in the corner? I bet it's a page reference in this book."

Tim, squinting at the paper, asked, "Is that a signature?"

While Lucy began deciphering the code, Wesley grew impatient, turning his attention to his earpiece. "KITT? What's taking so long?"

KITT's voice came through, slightly strained. "Apologies, Michael. The infrared scan is proving difficult with the body camera, but I'm confident I can complete it. I'll keep you updated."

As Lucy continued working, she finally deciphered the message. "Got it. Bryan Coleman," she announced, scribbling the name down.

Wesley looked at Nick. "So, are we sticking around here?"

Nick nodded, his mind already racing. "No, we're going with, but I'll call for backup to go after Bryan with us, and if we need to come back we will."

Wesley gave a quick nod of approval. "Let's make sure we don't lose him."

Later

At the house

The LAPD breached the house, methodically sweeping each room with tactical precision. The tension in the air was palpable as Nick, Lucy, Tim, and Wesley moved in, guns drawn, eyes scanning every corner. The house was eerily silent, amplifying the sound of their footsteps against the hardwood floors.

As they entered the living room, something scrawled in bold, red letters on the wall caught their attention. Wesley's eyes narrowed as he read the chilling message: "You failed her." The words dripped with malice, taunting them.

Nick's heart sank. He slowly holstered his gun, the weight of realization settling in. "It's my wife," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Rosalind left that note in the book for me to find... to torment me. She's been ahead of us every step of the way."

Lucy looked at the message, her mind racing. "Is she taunting us with the next victim?"

Nick shook his head, the pain evident in his eyes. "No. It's personal. This is about Rebecca. Rosalind's been playing me from the start."

Wesley, still focused on the note, spoke up, his tone more analytical. "If she's so intent on torturing you, Nick, why isn't she coming after me? I've hurt her more than you ever did. No offense."

Nick glanced at Wesley, a brief flicker of understanding passing between them. "Maybe she's saving the best for last," he muttered, the dread of what was to come weighing heavily on them all.

As the gravity of the situation settled over them, Lucy stepped closer to Wesley, her face a mask of concern and determination. She reached out, gently taking his hand in hers. The simple, reassuring gesture was a quiet promise of support amidst the chaos.

"Wesley," she said softly, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve, "we'll get through this. We always do. We've faced worse and come out stronger."

Wesley looked down at their intertwined hands, drawing strength from her touch. "I know," he replied, his voice steady but tinged with an edge of vulnerability. "But right now, it feels like we're always a step behind."

Lucy squeezed his hand, her grip firm and comforting. "We're not alone in this. We've got each other, and we've got a team that's not going to stop until we've put an end to Rosalind's game."

Tim, observing the exchange, nodded in agreement. "Lucy's right. We're in this together. We'll find the next victim and put an end to this."

Wesley took a deep breath, drawing from the strength of Lucy's presence. "Alright, let's focus on finding out what Rosalind's next move might be. We can't afford to lose any more time."

With renewed determination, the team regrouped, ready to piece together the clues and track down Rosalind before it was too late. Lucy's hand remained in Wesley's, a silent anchor as they prepared to face the challenges ahead.

Later

At the station

Grey, Nick, Jackson, Lucy, Wesley, Lopez, Harper, John, and Tim gathered in the briefing room. Grey began, "First, the good news. Nora Valdez—the woman Harper and Nolan rescued—is going to be okay."

Jackson asked, "What about Bryan Coleman?"

Grey replied, "We still haven't located him, but his face is everywhere now. The FBI is stepping in, so it's only a matter of time before we track him down."

Lucy inquired, "What's our next step?"

Grey said, "You're all going home, Officer Chen. Don't think for a second that you didn't give everything you had. A life was saved because of your relentless efforts over the past 36 hours."

Nick added, "Sergeant Grey's right. You should all be proud of the work you did today."

Wesley, rubbing his chin and taking a deep breath, said, "None of this changes the things I did as The Killer, Grey, Nick. None of it." His voice was tinged with a mix of frustration and reflection.

Grey studied Wesley for a moment before speaking, his tone softer, "Michael, what you did back then is a part of you, but it doesn't define who you are now. The work you've done today, the difference you've made—that's who you are now."

Nick added, "The past doesn't get erased, but it can be redeemed. You've done a lot of good. That counts for something."

Lucy moved closer to Wesley and gently squeezed his hand. "You're not alone in this, Wesley. You've made mistakes, but you're also making things right."

Wesley looked around at his team, their supportive expressions offering a small measure of comfort. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I guess I just need to keep moving forward."

Harper nodded in agreement. "We all have our pasts, but it's what we do in the present that really matters."

John gave Wesley a reassuring look. "We're all in this together, and right now, you're making a difference."

Lopez, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up. "Let's focus on what's next. Bryan Coleman is still out there, and we need to stay sharp."

Tim, always practical, added, "Right. We need to stay vigilant and make sure we're ready for whatever comes next."

Grey clapped his hands together. "Alright, team. We've done well today, but the job isn't finished. Let's get some rest and come back tomorrow ready to finish this."

The team nodded in agreement, their spirits lifted despite the challenges ahead. Wesley took one last look at his team, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they left the briefing room, ready to face whatever came next.

Wesley walked out of the briefing room, heading to the locker room to change. As he approached his locker, he saw Tom Bradford nearby.

Wesley greeted him, "Hey, Tom. You heading out too?"

Tom nodded and replied, "Yeah, today was intense. I also heard we're getting a new detective tomorrow."

Wesley raised an eyebrow, "Another one?"

Tom confirmed, "Yep, Detective Johnathon Waters from the Las Vegas PD. Just got the word while I was getting changed."

Wesley began changing into his civilian clothes, "I know John. From when I was still Wesley Wick. Now that I'm Michael Knight, I doubt he'll recognize me."

Tom chuckled, "You never know, man. It's a small world."

Wesley smiled wryly, "True enough. Guess I'll find out soon enough."

As Wesley continued changing, Tom glanced at him and said, "So, what's next for you, Michael? Any plans after today?"

Wesley shrugged, "Just trying to get through each day. It's been a rough few weeks."

Tom nodded in understanding, "I hear you. Things have been pretty chaotic lately. But you've handled it all like a pro."

Wesley chuckled, "Thanks. I'm just doing my best to keep my head above water."

Tom finished getting dressed and started to head out. He paused and said, "Well, if you need anything or just want to talk, you know where to find me."

Wesley appreciated the gesture and replied, "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Tom."

Tom smiled and waved as he left, "Take care, Michael."

Wesley watched him go, then finished up and left the locker room, deep in thought about the new detective and what the future might hold.

Wesley and Lucy walked toward KITT together, the night air cool after a long day. Lucy glanced at Wesley and asked, "Hey, do you want to hang out after work? Maybe grab dinner or something?"

Wesley sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I wish I could, but I'm beat. I really need to get some sleep."

Lucy looked a bit disappointed but nodded understandingly. "Alright, I get it. How about this—once I get home and change, can I go out with a friend? I could use a break too."

Wesley smiled, giving her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Of course. You deserve it. Just make sure to get some rest too."

Lucy grinned. "Thanks. I'll see you at home then."

They reached KITT, and Wesley opened the door, getting in. As he started up the engine, Lucy waved goodbye, heading towards her own car.

Wesley watched her go, feeling a mix of relief and regret. He knew how much she needed a break, just like he did, and he hoped she had a good time.

With Lucy

At night

At a bar

Lucy and Caleb were at a bar, the clinking of glasses mingling with the background chatter. Lucy nursed a non-alcoholic drink, while Caleb raised his beer with a smile.

"I'm really glad you called," Caleb said.

Lucy nodded a tired smile on her face. "Yeah, me too. Sorry if I'm a bit off tonight. It's been an intense couple of days."

Caleb glanced at her with understanding. "I saw some of the news. It must have been a lot."

"Yeah," Lucy sighed. "It's been overwhelming."

Caleb took a sip of his drink. "Well, I'm here to help you unwind, so let's make work talk off-limits."

Lucy smiled gratefully. "Okay. So, what should we talk about?"

Caleb leaned in with a grin. "About me, of course."

Lucy chuckled. "Alright, then. Cheers to that."

Caleb raised his glass. "Cheers to me."

Lucy laughed as they clinked glasses, the laughter offering a brief respite from the weight of recent events.

Later

Lucy and Caleb stumbled out of the bar, their laughter echoing into the night. Caleb gently steadied Lucy as she swayed slightly.

"I think I'm just faking being drunk from all the atmosphere," Lucy said, trying to steady herself.

Caleb chuckled. "Yeah, I think that's probably it."

Lucy fumbled with her phone, her fingers struggling to hold on. "I should call an Uber. Do you think they'd tow my car?"

Caleb shook his head. "No way. The bar's used to people leaving their cars."

As Lucy dropped her phone, Caleb quickly snatched it from the ground. "Sorry about that," Lucy said, a bit embarrassed.

Caleb slid the phone into his back pocket. "It's fine. I just want to make sure you get home safely."

Lucy sighed, her mood softening. "I need to let my fiancé know I'm coming home. But... I had a really good time tonight."

Caleb grinned. "I had a good time too—unfortunately."

Lucy laughed. "Why, unfortunately?"

Caleb's smile widened. "Might make the next part a little easier."

Lucy eyed him curiously as he guided her toward a sleek black Mustang parked in front. "My fiancé has a car just like this," she said, noting the resemblance.

Caleb nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah? Well, funny thing—this isn't just any Mustang. It's the Knight Auto-Cybernetic Roving Robotic-Exoskeleton, also known as KARR. K-A-R-R."

Lucy laughed. "That doesn't exist."

As if on cue, the front yellow LED lights of the car flickered on, casting a futuristic glow over Lucy and Caleb.

As the yellow LED lights illuminated the night, a robotic male voice came to life from the car's speakers.

"Hello, Officer Lucy Chen. I am KARR," the voice intoned with a smooth, mechanical clarity.

Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, her previous drunken haze momentarily forgotten. "What the hell?"

Caleb laughed softly, watching her reaction. "I guess you could say this is a bit of a surprise."

Lucy blinked, trying to process what she was seeing and hearing. "Are you serious right now? This thing actually talks?"

KARR's voice responded, "Indeed. I am equipped with advanced artificial intelligence and state-of-the-art technology. How may I assist you tonight?"

Lucy turned to Caleb, her confusion mixing with amusement. "Is this some sort of prank?"

Caleb shook his head, still smiling. "No prank. This is KARR, a highly specialized vehicle."

Lucy took a step closer to the car, still trying to wrap her head around it. "Alright, then. If you're not joking, what's the plan?"

Caleb's smile turned colder as he looked at Lucy. "Well... the plan is to kidnap you. KARR, pop the trunk."

With a smooth mechanical whirr, KARR's trunk lifted open. Caleb gently but firmly guided Lucy toward the trunk.

Lucy's laughter turned into confusion and then concern. "Wait, I'm sorry—did you just say you're kidnapping me?"

Caleb's smile didn't waver as he nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Lucy's expression shifted to panic as Caleb began to push her toward the trunk. "No, no! What are you doing?"

Despite her protests, Caleb managed to shove Lucy into the trunk. Her screams echoed briefly before Caleb slammed it shut, muffling her cries.

Caleb took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. He walked around the car and slid into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him.

"Let's go, KARR," he said, settling in.

KARR's engine roared to life with a low purr. "Understood. Proceeding to destination."

The car smoothly pulled away from the bar, the night swallowing the scene as KARR began its calculated drive.

To be continued...