In which a detective amongst Chicago's highest Missing Persons specialized unit lands on an active case being worked by none other than the Intelligence unit.
With no other choice than to work together, Violet Hayes and Hank Voight decide to join f...
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The warm autumn air hit Violet's face as she stepped outside of her apartment building. With her usual heated up coffee in hand and her work bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way to her car. Her boots hit the ground confidently, the echo of her heels mingling with the rustle of leaves.
Right as she opened the door to the driver's side of the car, the scent of pumpkin spice wafted through the crisp morning air. As she settled into the driver's seat and pressed the key into the ignition, the engine roared to life, and her favorite songs filled the air, setting the tone for the day ahead.
No longer than fifteen minutes later, her feet carried her inside the precinct. The red haired woman used her magnetic card to access the private building, unlocking the doors to the main hallway.
Her heels clicked assertivelyon the floor, making her presence known. A few colleagues paused to greet her,but most were engrossed in their busy routines, which Violet completelyunderstood; there was a lot to do.
The short walk to her office was uneventful until she was startled by a deep voice breaking the silence as she put away her things. "Hey, Vi. Didn't hear from you last night."
Violet turned to face him, the familiar warmth of his masculine scent wafting toward her while. She felt the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Hi, Investigator Cook. We've talked about this before." Hervoice was calm and firm but laced with warning as she collected her laptop and files. She maneuvered around him, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to smother her. Wesley's chuckle vibrated in the air, a sound she found increasingly grating.
"Come on, you can't be that loose in the sheets and this stuck up here." He quipped, misreading the situation and her expression entirely.
Violet halted, irritation coursing through her. She grabbed his wrists and pulled him into a nearby closet, her heart racing - not from fear but from the unwanted proximity and the clear frustration she felt. "I thought I made it clear that at work I'm your Sergeant, nothing else, Cook."
Her words were sharp, each syllable deliberate. The tension between them crackled, a blend of annoyance and unspoken resentment on her part. Wesley scoffed, avoiding her gaze for a moment before meeting her intense stare again. The lack of respect grated on her nerves, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Violet truly wished she wouldn't have to repeat herself again - she hated doing it. This discussion was already one they had before - the fact alone that she had to have it again with him angered her.
"Whatever you say, ma'am," Wesley muttered, finally conceding. The way he said it felt like a challenge, and Violet stepped out, leaving him to follow her.
As she headed to the bullpen, she forced herself to focus, reminding herself she had a job to do. Once the team settled down, Captain Prescott entered with files in hand. She distributed them, handing Violet a larger stack since she was the Sergeant.
