Sean leaned against the hood of his car, parked just down the street from the Estonia Community Health Center. The sun was beginning to cast long shadows across the cracked pavement, each one stretching toward him like accusing fingers. His eyes fixed on the front entrance, brows slightly furrowed, scanning every person who came and went. He tapped his thumb against his burner phone—not dialing, not texting. Just thinking. Just drowning.
He had followed Kendra back from her house that morning, staying three cars behind, heart hammering with each turn she made. The familiar weight of surveillance felt different when it was her. Wrong. Like using a skill meant for enemies on the one person who'd ever seen him as more than just another dirty cop.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, the breath visible in the cooling air, a ghost of the warmth that used to live in his chest.
"Goddammit, Kendra," he whispered to himself, feeling the familiar tightness that had become his constant companion. "What are you doing?"
She was up to something. He could feel it in her silence. Was she beginning to doubt him? Had she caught a scent of something rotten beneath all his careful lies? Something close to the truth that would destroy whatever this thing was between them?
The thought made his stomach clench like a fist.
He had purposely sent her that message about the Estonia pharmaceutical delivery hub, hoping it would keep her distracted, chasing shadows while he protect Michael's in his business. It had been shut down for months, nothing but a hollow shell now. A dead end. Or so he thought.
But then she'd gone to the clinic.
And she hadn't said a word to him.
Not even a heads-up. No quick call. No, "Hey, Sean, I'm checking something out." The silence between them felt like a blade, cutting deeper with each passing hour.
Sean clenched his jaw, the muscles twitching under the skin. He was used to having control, to moving pieces on the board without opposition. But Kendra—she was no pawn. Not anymore.
Sean's eyes flicked back to the door as it opened again. A familiar figure finally exited the clinic, drawing his full attention and stopping his breath entirely.
Kendra.
She moved with purpose, her cap pulled low over her forehead, her hand buried deep in her pocket, fingers wrapped around something—maybe a prescription, maybe evidence that would unravel everything. No hesitation. No glance in his direction. Just that focused determination that made her beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
Her boots tapped a rapid rhythm against the sidewalk, each step deliberate, each one carrying her further from him. She reached her car, unlocked it with efficient movements, and got in. Within seconds, the engine hummed to life and she pulled away from the curb, disappearing down the block like smoke.
He didn't follow.
Not yet.
Instead, he climbed into his own car, gripping the steering wheel. The familiar interior felt foreign now, like everything else in his life.
This wasn't part of the plan.
She was supposed to lean on him. Depend on him. Trust him with that fierce loyalty she gave so freely to the things she believed in. He'd been feeding her just enough—tips vague enough to steer her away from the truth, but close enough to keep her faith in him intact. And it had worked for a while, that delicate balance between protection and deception. But lately…
She was different. Distant. Guarded.
Like she'd stopped listening to him.
Like she'd started thinking for herself.
Sean stared out the windshield, watching pedestrians cross the street in the growing gloom, ordinary people living ordinary lives, unburdened by the weight of choices that could destroy everything. His stomach churned with something that might have been envy. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a small flask, unscrewed the cap with shaking fingers, and took a burning swallow. The whiskey scorched his throat but did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside him, the hurricane of love and guilt and terror that threatened to tear him apart.
"What are you digging into, Kendra?" he muttered, his breath fogging the window. "And why the hell didn't you tell me?"
Because she doesn't trust you anymore, a voice whispered in his head. Because she's too smart not to see the cracks in your story. Because she's figured out what you really are.
He dialed Michael with hands that wanted to shake.
His brother picked up on the second ring. "Yeah?"
"She went to the clinic today," Sean said, surprised by how hollow his voice sounded.
There was a pause on the line. In the background, Sean could hear faint voices—Michael must've been somewhere crowded.
"And did she meet anyone?" Michael asked, the casualness in his tone not quite masking the steel beneath.
"I don't know. I'm calling so that you could tell Dr. Myles to be careful," Sean said flatly.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Michael's voice dropped an octave. "Then I suggest you do what needs to be done before she becomes a problem."
The word 'problem' hit Sean like a thunder.
"You think I don't know that?" Sean's voice cracked slightly.
"I think you're hesitating," Michael replied. "And that's dangerous. For both of us."
"I've got it under control."
"Do you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're compromised."
Compromised. The word hung between them like a death sentence. In their world, being compromised meant being weak. It meant choosing emotion over logic, love over loyalty. It meant being a liability.
It meant being expendable.
"You're too close," Michael continued, his tone now cold, clinical. The voice of the brother who'd raised him after their parents died, who'd taught him to survive in a world that wanted to chew them up and spit them out. "Emotions don't belong in this. Blood first. Remember?"
Sean swallowed hard, tasting regret. Blood first. That old mantra. It had been drilled into him since they were kids—loyalty to the family, the mission, above all else. But back then, things had been simpler. Cleaner. Back then, there hadn't been a Kendra. Back then, he hadn't known what it felt like to have someone believe in him, to look at him like he was capable of being good.
"I'll handle it," he said finally, the words tasting like broken promises.
"See that you do," Michael replied. "Before I have to."
The threat was unmistakable. Michael wouldn't hesitate. He'd taught Sean that mercy was a luxury, that survival meant making the hard choices. And if Sean couldn't do what needed to be done…
Michael would do it for him.
Sean ended the call without replying, his thumb hovering over the phone's surface as if he could somehow take back the last few minutes, rewind to a time when his biggest worry was which lie to tell next.
The silence that followed was thick with possibility and dread.
He sat there, unmoving, while his mind spiraled through scenarios, each one ending with Kendra's blood on his hands or Michael's disappointment in his eyes. His reflection in the rearview mirror looked like a stranger—someone haunted, someone trapped between identities, someone who'd forgotten how to be just one thing.
Her hands in her pockets—what if she had found details he didn't know about? What if she had tied something back to him, to Michael, to the whole damn operation that had been their lives for so long? What if she already knew and was just waiting for the right moment to burn it all down?
He imagined confronting her, asking her outright. The conversation played out in his head: her shock, then understanding, then the look of betrayal that would replace all the warmth she'd ever shown him. But what if she lied? What if she told the truth? He wasn't sure which would be worse.
The thought made his chest ache like someone had reached inside and squeezed his heart with a fist.
He could still see her face in his memory, eyes filled with fire and hope and a fierce belief in justice that he'd both envied and tried to protect. The way she'd once looked at him—like he was someone she could trust. Someone good. Someone worth saving.
And if she found out everything?
He'd lose her.
Not just her trust, not just her partnership.
He'd lose the only person who'd ever made him want to be better than what he was. The only person who'd ever looked at Sean Carter and seen potential instead of just another corrupt cop from a family of criminals.
The car suddenly felt too small, too tight. He shoved the door open and stepped out, letting the cold air slap him in the face.
After some minutes he got back in the car. Slamming the door didn't help. Nothing helped.
He started the engine—not to follow her, but to move, to escape the weight of that place and the memory of her walking away from him. Away from the clinic where she might have found the first thread that would unravel everything.
At a red light, he caught his own eyes in the rearview mirror again. Who was that man staring back? Cop? Criminal? Protector? Betrayer? Brother? Lover?
The light turned green.
Sean Carter sat at the intersection of his life, engine idling, knowing that the next decision he made would decide which side of the line he stood on for good—and whether he'd stand there alone.