Episode 1: The Fallout

The conference room smelled like stale coffee and sweat.

Duncan sat at the far end of the long glass table, his badge clipped neatly to his belt, his hands folded in front of him. Across from him, Internal Affairs Agent Keene flipped through a manila folder with agonizing slowness. Every so often, Keene would glance up with a quiet smirk, as if savoring the power shift.

Behind Keene, the department's deputy commissioner, Sanders, stood with his arms crossed, silent but imposing. A vulture waiting for someone else to pluck the carcass clean.

Duncan kept his face calm, though the knot in his gut twisted tighter with every second.

"You knew," Keene finally said, tapping the folder. "You knew she was getting involved with the asset."

"She never compromised an active investigation," Duncan answered evenly.

"That's not what I asked."

Keene leaned forward, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "We have surveillance reports. Late meetings. Private calls. Off-the-record contact with the informant. You knew. You looked the other way."

Duncan exhaled through his nose, careful not to rise to the bait. "She never gave classified information to Eleanor. She never obstructed department protocols. If you're fishing for more, you won't get it."

Keene's smile widened, like a man savoring a slow roast.

"Oh, I think we already have enough, Detective. Daniela Silva crossed several lines. The only question left is whether you're going down with her."

Duncan's jaw flexed.

Deputy Sanders finally spoke. "Duncan, this department's image is fragile. We're under political heat. If you cooperate, if you help us—"

"Sell her out," Duncan cut in.

Keene's eyes glittered. "Call it... departmental loyalty."

Duncan locked eyes with him, cold and sharp. "Loyalty doesn't mean gutting your own people to save your career."

Keene closed the file and leaned back, feigning disappointment. "Then maybe you'll enjoy your new desk in the cold case. Effective immediately."

Sanders nodded. "You'll be reassigned until further notice. Quietly, of course."

And just like that, it was over.

The hallway outside IA felt colder than the conference room.

Duncan walked with his hands in his coat pockets, staring ahead, ignoring the curious glances from junior officers as he passed.

The department was already whispering. Everyone had heard pieces of the story — Daniela's suspension, the task force implosion, Eleanor's disappearance. The rumors moved like blood in the water.

He kept walking.

For most of his career, Duncan had prided himself on being the department's iron spine — the one who stayed clean, who never bent. But these last few months had cracked something inside him.

Because when he thought about Daniela… he couldn't bring himself to blame her.

Not entirely.

She hadn't simply fallen for an informant.

She'd risked everything because she saw something in Eleanor worth saving. She'd made a choice that wasn't about policy or procedure — but about decency. And in this city, decency was often punished harder than corruption.

That's what burned.

Not the demotion.

Not the cold case files waiting for him.

But the fact that for once, bending the rules might've been the only right thing to do.

That night, Duncan sat alone in his apartment, the TV muted, the case files stacked untouched beside him.

His phone buzzed.

A message.

FROM: DANIELA

"They're circling. Don't burn for me."

He stared at it for a long time.

His thumbs hovered over the screen before he typed:

TO: DANIELA

"You made your choice. I'll make mine."

He hit send. And let the silence return.

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To be continued