TOO ICY

💎 THIRTY / SACRIFICE

Salita awoke to the loudness of tires rolling over the gravel and grass perimetering the abandoned home. She lay still, training her ear to the noise penetrating the silence. The noise was hauntingly familiar. In her short career as an officer, she'd been a part of multiple manhunts, but now she was the one being hunted. Her time was up.

"Detective Sanchez. We know you're in there! Surrender now or we will be forced to enter the property!"

She stiffened when the loud bullhorn blared through the thin walls.

"Mya!" Salita whisper-yelled, turning to see that she was alone in the bed. She haphazardly moved through the tiny shack, trying to find her partner in crime. Had she gone out for a smoke? Was she already captured? Salita's mind ran through all of the possibilities before she realized none of it mattered; she was alone.

This is how her life would end. Rather she'd be shot dead or locked in a cage, this would be the end of it.

"You are surrounded! Come out now with your hands up!"

The voice was stern. Threatening. She felt like the walls were caving in. Running back into the room, she moved around quickly to find her gun. One glock against a hundred was like a single flame versus a blaze, but it was something. Enough to let them know she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Thank you," she whispered, more so to God than herself, when she found the registered weapon on the tattered dresser. Only two bullets left. That would have to do. Through the bullhorn came another voice as she moved through the house.

"Salita. It's Detective Young. Don't make this harder than it needs to be. We don't want to hurt you. We know you're a good person. You did what you thought you had to do," he cajoled.

She stopped her movements. She knew the game. Jetson was trying to appeal to her; make her feel safe. Salita scoffed, but couldn't stop the panicked tears from rushing forward.

"I know you, Salita. This isn't you. You've always taken care of everyone. You've had to fight your entire life and you can't stop fighting now. You can't let all your hard work go to waste. Don't let Marco win, Salita."

"Shit," she hissed, wiping the falling tears. She let out a gut wrenching scream. There were so many emotions hitting her at once. Regret. Shame. Hurt. She had already let Marco win. He was dead, but it was she who would continue to suffer.

It couldn't end this way.

                 💎💎💎

Haru grunted loudly, stroking his hips diligently into the woman taking all of him from below.

"You like that?" he asked, panting.

She didn't respond, just clutched the corners of the bed to brace herself for the harsh penetration. Haru wasn't exactly the best lover. He wasn't gentle, he smelled of cheap cologne, and he sweated like a dog in a yard on a hot day; but he had power, and that was what she wanted the most.

Haru's body stiffened as he climaxed inside of her. He collapsed beside her, reaching for the cigarette smushed in the ashtray.

"When's the next meeting? Are you going to let everyone know that I'm on the board now?"

"And why would I do that, Akita?" he snickered.
Akita sat up in bed and snatched his cigarette for a puff of her own.

"Because that was the deal. I give you what you want and you give me what I want."

"Except you didn't give me what I wanted. My own hand could fuck me better than that, darling." Haru stood from the bed and searched for his underwear. "If you think doing the bare minimum is going to get you anywhere, you're more spoiled than I thought. Another thing Sachi failed at, I see."