Felix dropped Rachel off at school the next morning, watching her figure disappear into the crowd.
He'd never thought of himself as the relationship type, but somehow he'd ended up in one.
"You keep showing off like that, I'll have to ask you to leave," Mary, the department psychologist, said without a trace of sympathy.
"I'm a paying client. Can't you at least pretend to care?" Felix stopped by the mental health center on the way back.
"You're not paying anything. The department settles with us directly."
Felix shifted in his seat. "Fine. Let's get started."
"Get started on what?"
"The assessment. I'm still waiting for your report."
"You don't look like someone who needs therapy. Drop the act. I know exactly how much weight the department puts on these reports."
Felix considered that. She wasn't wrong. "Then why take the job if you feel disrespected?"
"It pays. Once my private practice takes off, I'm out of here."
"Shame. I'll miss your evaluations."
Mary wasn't the type to pry or posture. No cheap psychoanalysis, no fishing for deep, hidden trauma—none of the TV dramatics.
"No need. I'm licensed. Even if I leave, I can still write your reports. You'd just have to pay out of pocket."
"That depends on the price," Felix said, blunt as ever.
They talked a little longer before she pushed him out. He was pulling his jacket on when a stranger stepped into his path.
"Felix, right? Levi Angell, Deputy Chief of Major Crimes. Got a minute?"
"Sure. Let's grab a coffee."
They took a corner table. Levi sat with his back to the wall, eyes on the door. Felix noticed, said nothing.
When the coffee came, Felix dropped in two sugars, stirring slowly.
"Deputy Chief Levi—"
"Just Levi."
"Alright, Levi. What's this about? We've never really crossed paths."
"That's true. Doesn't matter. Cole Simmons—Asian Gang Unit—sat in on your internal review yesterday. He looked you up afterwards. Recommended you to me."
A faint chill ran down Felix's spine. "Recommended for what?"
"I'll be blunt. Ever thought about joining Major Crimes?"
Felix's brow tightened. Levi leaned forward.
"I read your file. Comfortable background. Chinese heritage. Transferred from UCLA to UCI for criminology. Top of your academy class. Strong results on the street. Less than a month in, you've been through multiple shootings and internal reviews. You don't scare easy."
Felix narrowed his eyes. "So this is a poach?"
Levi gave a short laugh. "Call it what you want. What stood out to me was that you're clean. You keep to yourself. No ties anyone can pull. Hard to bribe, harder to sway. And you've got a certain… edge."
"I've got a girlfriend. And I get along fine with my squad."
"Good. Stability makes you look even more reliable." Levi's voice cooled. "But the longer you stay in the station, the less clean you'll be. You know what I mean."
Felix did. New blood stayed pure—for a while. Then came the favors, the debts, the quiet compromises.
"So why move?"
"Patrol promotion is slow. You're looking at a year just to hit Senior Deputy, two more for the next grade. Major Crimes moves faster—bigger cases, better pay."
"I don't care about the pay. Or the promotion." His tone was flat.
Levi studied him for a beat. A man who didn't want money or rank—harder to hook. Then he shifted tactics.
"Major Crimes handles the worst of the worst. People you can't reason with. People you put down, or they keep killing."
Felix's eyes sharpened.
Levi pressed. "We cover the entire county. Gang Unit, Gun Violence, Homicide/Kidnap, Major Fraud—you could pick your team."
Felix nodded slowly, already weighing them. Fraud was out—pure financial work, not his trade. Gun Violence and Homicide meant chasing ghosts, and no one had ever trained him for that. But gangs… gangs had territory. Territory meant you could find them.