1

Obey first. Complain later.

It's an old saying the bosses drill into when you're a rookie cop.

The day I break it for the first time is the day that everything changes.

It's raining in Brookhaven this evening: big surprise. It's slicing along the dark stretch of this empty street and soaking through my black leather jacket.

"Detective Cain." Captain Jim Hawkins fixes me with a steady gaze. "You're leading the mission, understood?"

Hawkins' neatly cut hairis grayingas he approaches his fifties, lines growing deeper around his eyes. He's like the team's dad; stern, commanding, diligent. We alljustwant to impress him.

But no one does as much as me. Daddy issues? Okay, maybe.

I'm at a disadvantage: I'm the youngest member of the homicide squad at twenty-six, I'm still in my first year as a detective, and I'm a woman in a total boy's club. But Hawkins sees potential in me.

I nod firmly. "I'm ready, Captain. Let's nail this bastard."

Our unmarked van is parked a littlewaydown the street from this dilapidated downtown house. The perp, Jeffrey Finch, was spotted here this evening. He's a small-time dealer who shot up one of his customers last week. We've been trying to track him down ever since.

Hawkins gives us the signal to move out. I fall into formation with Ryan and Brock, my fellow detectives, our weapons raised.

"Suck up," Ryan mutters at me under his breath as we advance. I roll my eyes.

Detective Ryan Fields is a blond meathead who gets offon the power thathis police badge gives him. He has a gross habit of slapping the female cops' asses, but he always seems to get away with it.

"Don't be jealous, Ryan," I shoot back with a grin. "Ten bucks says I have the perp in handcuffs in under five minutes."

Ryan scowls. "You might be pretty, but the big ego doesn't look cute on you, Cain. You're on."

"If Ava says she can do it, she will." Brock puffs up his chest, though it doesn't do much good. Brock is gangly and permanently anxious, and the station rumors say he only made the rank of detective because his uncle is the Police Commissioner.

Law enforcement isunfortunatelysimilar to high school, and we're in the outcast faction.

But he'sthe only friend I haveon the team, and I appreciate him sticking up for me.

"Get ready to pay up," Ryan hisses as we approach the house.

A sudden flash of movement catches me off guard.There'sa blur of pallid skin and blond hair as the suspect bursts from a side door to the house.

"Police!" I yell. "Stop right there!"

I curse under my breath as the suspect glances back at us, then promptly dives down the alleyway behind the house.

The three of us pursue him at full speed. I race around the corner of the alley. But the sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.

Finch is a few yards away, facing us. Thescrawny, rat-like face from the case file photos meets my eyes. One hand is pointing a gun straight at me. But that's not why adrenaline is crashing through my body.

His other dirty-fingernailed hand is gripped tight around the body of a little kid.

Nausea washes over me.Shecan't be more than twelve. Long, matted blonde hair falls over her shouldersandher eyes are wide with terror.

"Slowly put the weapon down," I order him. "Then raise your hands."

Finch doesn't move. "Stay back," he grunts. "I'll shoot. Don't think I won't do it."

The radio on Ryan's vest cracklesandhe mutters into it. "Captain, the suspect is armed and is holding a child. Over."

Hawkins' voice crackles in the air. "Stand down. That's an order. We need to call in backup and a negotiator before proceeding. Do not escalate the situation."

My stomach sinks. Finch has no known children. He has this child with him for god knows what depraved reason. If we stand down, we're basically handing her over to him.

"Sir," I mutter into my radio. "You're making a mistake."

My voice trembles with emotion at the last word. I feel Ryan's judgmental gaze burning into me. There's no place for feelings in this squad.

"I've given you an order," Hawkins' voice asserts firmly. "Now stand down."

My stomach twists. I know I'm supposed to submit to the chain of command.

But years ago, I was that girl, and so was my sister Lily. Lost to cracks in the system, with a thousand layers of bureaucratic paperwork between us and the chance at survival.

Obey first. Complain later.

It's a split-second decision. I can't lethimrun. Not when every second that passes could be this child's last.

I move forward, my gun still trained on Finch. His face contorts as he grunts another warning. "Don't come any closer."

I can hear Ryan and Brock's protests behind me, but I ignore them.

"It's okay," I calmly say to Finch as I inch forward. "I just want to talk."

In a flash, I lunge at him, knocking the gun clean from his grip. It flies out of his hands across the alley. The girl screams and runs toward Brock and Ryan.

Finch freezes as I point my weapon at him.

"Kneeldown,slowly," I order. "Hands where I can see them."

He drops to the floor. With one hand, I take the handcuffs from my belt. But I pause before I slip them around his wrists.

There's an icy prickle along my skin. Standing above this man with a weapon feels like total power. I don't like what the feeling does to me.I don't likethe memory it takes me back to and thevoice that ringsin my ears.

You're a broken girl, Ava. You always will be.

I vowed to give my life to fighting for justice. But there's a dark, flickering fire inside me whispering that I never outrun what I did in the past.

I grip the handle of my gun harder to steady myself. I swallow down the feeling, letting it cool to an ember within me.

That's what I always do. Bury the feelingall over againwhenever I get too close to breaking the promise I made to myself at fifteen years old.

Bam.

In my split second of distraction, I'm caught off guard. Finch turns surprisingly quickly, pulling a blunt switchblade from his pocket. He rises, slicing the tip over my left shoulderandI gasp in pain.

Panic races through me. Shit, have I really screwed this up? Was Hawkins right?

But my training quickly kicks in on instinct. I knee the bastard in the balls, hard.

He grunts and stumbles. I grab his wrists, snapping the handcuffs shut.

"Thanks for the knife, asshole," I say, jabbing my gun into his back.

Ryan helps me drag Finch back out of the alley and pushes him into a cop car that's pulled up.

"If you need the ten bucks that bad, you could've just asked," he mutters.

"That was amazing, Ava," Brock says, staring at me in awe. "Is your shoulder okay?"

I give a rueful half-grin through the pain. "It's okay."

Hawkins appears out of the crowd of backup officers that have finally arrived. I'm half-hoping he'll greet me with a wide grin and tell me I'm adamnhero.

But his face is stony. Hawkins doesn't dobigexpressions of rage. Like a stern teacher, his disappointment is brutal enough.

"What the hell were you thinking, Cain?"

Brock and Ryan scatter, giving me matching you're in trouble glances as they leave.

One of the medical team rushes over to inspect my injury. Hawkins watches on, undeterred from his lecture.

"You shouldn't have pulled that stunt. You disobeyed a direct order from your commanding officer."

I wince as the medic sanitizes the cut. "It worked, didn't it?"

"If one little thing wentsidewaysthen you and the girl could both have been killed."

"I'm sorry, Captain," I mutter. "I just got carried away with…"

I trail off. With what—emotion? I can't admit that to my boss. I have to be twice astoughas any manjustto prove myself. I can't let them see the broken parts of myself that I try to cover up with atoughexterior.

"Ava." His tone softens a fraction as he says my name. "I see more potential in you than anyotherof my young detectives. But what you did today deserves a six-month suspension."

"What?" Panic floods me. "No, you can't suspend me. This job is everything to me, Captain."

He sighs.For a few tense seconds,he seems to mull over my words before he finally speaks again."I know that.Whichis why I'm going to give you an offer, oneI wouldn't give to anyone else."

My eyebrows rise in confusion, a flicker of hope sparking in me.

He continues. "Mandatory therapy sessions."

"Therapy?!" I echo.

Oh god. No.

No no no.

"I know a brilliant psychiatrist who's worked with my detectives before. He's helped numerous officers following traumatic incidents in the line of duty. He can evaluate you and authorize your return to duty. You'll be on leave until then. Give it ten sessions, then we'll reassess."

I sputter a laugh of disbelief. "I'm fine, Captain. I don't need some dusty old PhD to poke around my brain and ask if I have issues with my mother."

"This is your only offer. It's this or take the suspension."

"I don't need therapy. I am not crazy."

My voice sounds too defensive. Hawkins eyes me for a moment. I pray he can't tell why Iabsolutelycan't have someone prying into my memories.

Hawkins shrugs, beginning to turn away. "Sorry you feel that way, Cain."

I grit my teeth as I call after him. "Fine, I'll do it. Your Dr Freud can analyze me."

Hawkins looks back with a grim smile. "Good. Ten sessions and a sign-off, that's all I'm asking."

I nod goodbye to him. Later tonight, Hawkins will go home to his kids. All I'm going home to is the empty apartment I use as a crash pad. For most people, home is their happy place. Mine is my job.

And now, if I want to keep it, I have to suffer through therapy with some dorky doctor in glasses who's going to tell me everything that's wrong with me.

I exhale hard, but it has nothing to do with the pain in my shoulder.

I'm not scared of single-handedly taking down a violent criminal. But someone excavating the secrets in my brain is goddamn terrifying.