Crossfire

The club was supposed to be a mistake I never had to own.

One night off duty. One stranger. No names, no history, no reason to think twice. It was just noise and anonymity and a moment that should have stayed buried under neon and bass.

The next morning, she introduces herself as a transfer from another station.

That is where the problem starts.

This is a story about a line crossed before either knew it existed, about control tested by coincidence, and about what happens when professionalism collides with something you can't undo. Some mistakes don't explode right away. They sit. They wait.

And by the time you realise the damage, you're already in the crossfire.