QUEEN OF VERONA

Chapter 2: Return of the Detective

Verona Heights looked the same as it always had: sharp edges and gleaming towers against a dark sky, hiding the grime beneath the glamour. Detective Marcus Hale sat in his unmarked car, engine humming softly as he watched the city from a distance. After five years away, it felt strange to be back. Stranger still knowing what he’d come back to.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes narrowing as his mind drifted to the case files stacked on his passenger seat. High-profile robberies, underground dealings, arms moving through the city like shadows, and money disappearing without a trace. This wasn’t the Verona Heights he’d left behind. Something had changed—something big—and he was here to find out exactly what.

The precinct had been all too eager to welcome him back. Word of his success in Chicago had apparently made its way across the country. But this assignment? It was personal. He could feel it, even if no one had said it out loud.

A knock on his window jolted him from his thoughts. Marcus rolled down the window and found himself staring at Officer Trent, the fresh-faced rookie they’d assigned him as a partner. Trent was young, eager, and probably too optimistic for his own good. Marcus had been like that once.

"Detective Hale, everything ready?" Trent asked, his voice laced with excitement.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Marcus muttered, glancing at the towering skyline. "Fill me in on what we’ve got."

Trent handed him a folder. “A string of robberies, all major targets. Jewelry stores, art galleries, even a bank. All high-value and professionally done. No clear leads, no mistakes.”

"Sounds like pros," Marcus said, flipping through the files. "What about witnesses?"

“None. And any surveillance footage we’ve got is useless—these guys are ghosts.”

Marcus sighed, leaning back in his seat. Ghosts. He’d dealt with their kind before. These weren’t small-time crooks, but a syndicate—organized, disciplined, and deadly. That much was clear. What wasn’t clear was who ran things around here. Verona Heights always had a hierarchy, and someone at the top was calling the shots.

“Alright,” Marcus said, closing the folder. “Let's start with the robbery sites, get a feel for the pattern. Whoever’s running this is careful, but no one’s perfect.”

---

By nightfall, Marcus and Trent were standing in front of the most recent hit—a high-end jewelry store downtown. The glass had been replaced, the alarms rewired, but there was still an air of chaos lingering around the scene. A crime this clean left a mark, even if it wasn’t immediately visible.

“They took almost three million dollars’ worth of diamonds,” Trent said, glancing around nervously. “Owner’s been dealing with the insurance fallout for weeks.”

Marcus surveyed the scene, his trained eyes searching for something, anything, that might have been overlooked. But nothing stood out. Whoever pulled this off was good—very good.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, pulling his attention away from the crime scene. He glanced at the screen: a message from his captain, calling him to a late-night briefing at the precinct. Figures.

“Looks like we’re getting called in,” Marcus said, turning back to Trent. “Pack it up. We’ll regroup at the station.”

---

Back at the precinct, the conference room was dimly lit, filled with the low murmur of detectives and officers swapping theories and comparing notes. Marcus scanned the room, catching snippets of conversation. Everyone was tense. The robberies weren’t just crimes—they were a direct hit to the city’s sense of security. The pressure was mounting, and it was only a matter of time before someone cracked.

The captain stood at the front of the room, arms crossed as he waited for everyone to settle in. Marcus took a seat at the back, feeling the weight of the room shift toward him.

“Detective Hale, good to have you back,” the captain said with a nod. “You’ve already been briefed on the robberies, so I won’t waste your time with the details. But here’s what we know: this isn’t just about money. Whoever’s behind these hits is building power—underground power. They’re targeting high-value assets, and from what we can tell, they’ve got a network that’s untouchable. Our job is to touch it.”

Marcus nodded, his eyes narrowing as he absorbed the information. Underground power. This was bigger than he’d thought.

“We’ve got a few leads, but nothing solid yet,” the captain continued. “And there’s one person who might be able to help connect the dots.”

The captain handed Marcus a photo. He froze when he saw the face staring back at him. Alessandra Cruz.

“Alessandra Cruz?” Marcus said, his voice neutral, though his pulse quickened.

“Yeah, she’s a corporate lawyer,” the captain said. “Top of her game. Got her hands in some big deals around town, but word is, she’s clean. Problem is, she’s representing a few people who aren’t. She might know more than she’s letting on.”

Marcus stared at the photo. Alessandra Cruz. He hadn’t seen her in five years. Five long years since she had walked out of his life without a word. And now, she was here, tangled up in his case, somehow.

“You know her?” Trent asked, eyeing the photo over Marcus’ shoulder.

Marcus didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure how to answer. Alessandra had been his everything once—until she wasn’t. But that was the past. And now, she was just another person in the way of his investigation.

“We used to know each other,” he finally said, slipping the photo into the folder. “But that was a long time ago.”

Trent didn’t push further. “What do you think? Could she be involved?”

Marcus shook his head slightly. “Alessandra’s a lawyer. She knows the game, but she’s not the kind to get her hands dirty.”

Still, something didn’t sit right. Alessandra might not be a criminal, but she knew how to play both sides. And if she was tied up with shady clients, that meant she was closer to the action than she’d let anyone believe. Marcus clenched his jaw.

If Alessandra Cruz was connected to these robberies, he’d find out. And this time, he wouldn’t let her slip away so easily.