Error. [H.S.]

2.

TW: Brief violence; mention of blood and murder.

Exhaustion bellowed in warning as the struggle to transform into one's best self was proving to be more prominent labor than ever anticipated. Each gloved blow combated against meteoric defense, battling to channel agitation into improvement. Tears of dedication cascaded down dueling bodies, soaking each opponent in glistening condensation - a hero's true rain.

Enthrallment washed over me as my eyes ticked from each set of battling gloves, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach with every eager jab. Repeatedly, I remind myself that in a controlled environment, safety was warranted.

"Christ!" The brunette contender held no hesitancy when whipping his gloves down to the mat, freeing his calloused hands to grasp his nose. Blood soaked through his fingers, dripping into the ring as both his opponent and I seek out something to capture the downpour. Curse words mumble from the one who delivered such a hostile jab, clearly thrown off guard by the accident.

"Shit!" My body flinches as my eyes catch the miscalculated strike upwards that met with the shorter man's nose. "Here!" I frantically reach for a towel hanging off of the edge of the ring, balling it in my hand and tossing it up to the victim. So much for guaranteed safety.

"Fucking hell, mate, sorry." A firm grasp met the shoulder of the injured, shaking ever so slightly as some kind of manly apology.

"Lou, are you okay?" I grip the barrier rope between my fingers, chest raising rapidly.

"I'll let you know how my fucking rhinoplasty consultation goes." Despite half the blood vessels in his nose suffocating him, Louis still reigned king with his wit. "If I have to wear another butterfly bandage of my face, Liam..."

Threatening words were seemingly meant to manipulate the guilt that must be drowning Liam. With only an inch between them, the miscalculation could easily be interpreted as fowl play of intimidation against a lower ranked officer, which stood grounds for punishment.

"Scotty, tell Sarge we'll be a few minutes late." Liam mumbles into the velcro as he takes the strap between his teeth to unfasten his gloves.

My stomach twisted in a knot at the defeat and concern that lingered in his tone - this wouldn't be his first reprimanding. A key factor to being a part of any ESU precinct was precision; every move made was expected to be precise, direct, and intentional. Any mistakes could jeopardize the safety and integrity of the entire team, which meant any slip-ups would result in immediate reprimand to improve the cohesiveness of the team. While his incident was an accident with me acting as a witness, I couldn't help but tense at the thought of how this could quickly turn into a worse scenario by Liam's superiors.

With a steady exhale, I compose myself and trudge down the hallway of never ending doors, each made with bullet proof steel and leads into a confidential unit, fastened by high security locks that only provides access with the scan of a fingerprint or badge. Upon scanning, a profile will display before you, as well as within the room to notify of your arrival. Sometimes coming here felt like entering maximum security prison.

A quick pressing of my thumb to the cold technological pad drew my head shot on the tablet sized screen, the electric doors sliding open from either side - these doors were practically grocery store doors, but made to intimidate. I quickly proceed into the bustling office that housed the records department, scanning the wooden desks for my favorite clerk, Ramona.

"Now, Miss. Klein, I know you're a journalistic prodigy, but tell me how you concluded your assignment so quickly." A faltering voice sounded from behind me, quickly grasping my attention to the office to my right. As welcoming as ever, Ramona greeted me with a megawatt smile and a warmth only comparable to a steaming cup of tea in the Autumn months. Each paved wrinkle in her skin told a story of light as her most noticeable marks were those highlighted by a smile. Years of radiating sunshine has brought her such innocent beauty, complimented by immense kindness. Surrounded in an office space full of stories of such brutality, Ramona was the comfort needed to read through a case.

"My dad told me to return it. I think he has something else in mind for me." I shrug, extending the folder back to her, the contents wrapped in a thick rubber band to keep from spilling. "I've stopped asking questions."

"I must say, you have exceptional boundaries for a journalist." A wink twinkled from her brown eyes, her smile never lacking luster. "I can't help but wonder if he's tasking you with the case the chief assigned him earlier."

Intrigued, my head tilted quizzically and brows knit together. "What case?"

"Oh, I've said too much as it is." A few glances bounced around the exterior of her office, cautiously before she cranked her index finger, signalling for me to close a bit of the gap between us. "Now, you may have been too young to remember, but several years ago, Brooklyn was hit with a string of crimes, and while various different in style, the all concluded with the deaths of many witnesses."

Oh, I remember. My father sat behind his mahogany desk for all hours of the night, evidence, statements, and crumpled up yellow paper scribbled with potential resolutions spewed all over his home office for years, until one day, all of the documentation vanished. The desk was visible at first glance again, his pens uniformed beside a blank notepad and a desk top computer. Upon returning from school, my stomach screamed for me to run, telling me that something wasn't right. My stubborn will fought against my internalized fear, shuffling my body through the house cautiously, back pressed against the wall at all times - just like her dad taught her when investigating a scary gut feeling.

However, when I turned the corner to the kitchen, my dad stood before the counter, stirring up a mid-afternoon cocktail. The life that had been drained from his soul glistened at me for the first time in years, a wary dread that once consumed him melting away with every alcoholic sip. We never spoke of the sudden tidiness in his office, but I knew what it entailed. Selfishly, relief showered my younger self, though I knew on the inside, my dad would never be the same.

His case finally went cold, but as the evidence was retired to freeze in a metallic cabinet, my father was set free from the icy grasps of a frozen over hell.

"Are they re-opening the case?" A sharp pain slammed against my skull, tension immediately building near my temples at the simple thought of losing my dad to the dark consumption of a hostile game of Cat and Mouse.

"That confirmation will have to come from your daddy, sugar." Ramona could sense my fear, picking up on the worrisome feelings of others was her sixth, while her seventh was to quickly coddle and recover. "But between you and me, the chief was locked away in his office for almost four hours this morning with some unusual visitors, followed by the financial department."

"How do those two things correlate?"

"If your daddy plays his cards right, he'll be leading the team to a victory after a decades worth of torment." Her quick fingers stored my returned file in one of the plethora of filing cabinets behind her desk, a sly grin crept upon her face. "And if you're lucky, sugar, you'll be the first one to break the story that NYPD ESU saved renowned rock star, Harry Styles, from his final curtain call."

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Authors Note: I'm so excited to see this story getting added to so many reading lists! Thank you so much for believing in me and this story enough to add it onto your list!

I'm on vacation for the next few days, but I'll be posting a new chapter soon! If you're interested in sneak peeks of my next chapter before it's published, head over to my tiktok, where I post teasers and previews for every chapter before the chapter goes live on Wattpad!

Tiktok: Pardonmypoison