She's mine.

Chapter 1

Thank you for reading, I apologize for any grammar/ spelling mistakes!
Blood, gore, extreme violence, sexual themes and other explicitness

Chapter 1
Feliciana Banquette.

My siren wailed like a newborn baby as I chased down the pyschopath.

I sped through the cars at each red light, desperate to get my hands on this mental criminal. He swerved into an alleyway on his motorbike with a "skkrt!". I frowned, my emerald eyes glistening with annoyance as I forced the car to turn roughly. He flipped me off and did teasing tricks on his Harley Davidson beige motorbike. I grumbled in frustration, he wasn't even wearing a helmet and seeing the smug look on his face made it all worse. He gave me a flirty wink, one of his blue eyes shutting for a split second. His black hair sat in a shaggy, disheveled mix between a wolfcut and mullet. I cursed mentally for staring instead of focusing on catching him. He wore a beanie, baggy black shirt and baggy black cargo pants that did nothing to subtract how attractive he looked. I cursed as J found myself swooning again. I picked up the speed and followed him down the narrow alleyway, I lowered my window and stuck my head out, sticking my tongue out and cursing in italian.

"You're even hotter when you're angry." He teased, only causing me to fume even more.

I could've sworn I felt steam bulging out of my ears. The faster I got, the more wind billowing into my soft brown hair of medium length. The revving of his engine hovered in the sticky air. The tension towered as my siren continued to screech like a aggravated kraken. He turned left, back into the open road. Suddenly, two motorbikes blocked my path, turning infront of the car. I cursed them. It was his gang. I kicked my door open as they hopped off their motorbikes, continuing on foot. I chased them down, my feet thundering against the stone pavement as my brunette hair danced with the breeze I felt the moonlight kiss my tanned skin. The large city of new york. The two people in black helmets turned in the opposite directions, one had blonde braids and a petite figure that could run fast, the other had a more muscular and manly frame. They ran down more narrow alleyways. I turned to look into the alleyway to see nothing but walls of heavy brick and dusted pavement amongst the ground. I lost them, again. Again. I cursed beneath my heavy breaths of shear tire and frustration. I facepalmed. A soft sigh escaped my pink-tinged lips. I retreated to the car, opening the door and slamming my head against my steering wheel in frustration.
"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" I cried out

I arrived at the police station with a frustrated expression haunting my face. The blonde woman at the reception desk looked over at me.
"Cheif's going to be furious." She muttered. A scoff found it's way out of me. My lungs stung with anger. My brown hair was slightly disheveled in their usual waves amongst my barely tanned skin. I walked to the chief's office. As head officer, I should have had these criminals months ago.
I arrived at his door of sleek dark wood, a labelled namelate beside it.
"Cheif Marcus Mellborne of New york policing agency."
I carefully knocked on the door to be answered by a middle-aged man of slicked back black hair and an expression of hindrance amongst his fair skin.
"Again, officier?" He said with a frown.
"Cheif, I-" The bastard interrupted me. "No exeptions, Feliciana." I sighed. "You'll recieve a suspension." My heart dropped, suspension? I had caught every criminal except one and I get a suspension for my pounds of work? Absurd...