[Hospital – One Hour Later]
Behind the double doors at the far end of the hall, Raymond White was still on the table. The red light above the operating room flickered. The surgery was still ongoing, and he lost a lot of blood.
Captain Holt stood rigid near the wall, hands clasped behind his back, his face unreadable except for the slight furrow of his brow. Terry paced back and forth with a worried expression. Gina sat slouched in a chair, legs crossed, staring at her phone but not typing. The tension had drained even her usual flair.
Terry finally broke the silence. "We can't keep Rosa in the dark about this. She'll kill us if she finds out we waited."
Holt's voice was low, steady. "She is still recovering from her injuries. Charging across the city in her condition would do her no good."
"But she deserves to know," Terry argued. "Ray got hit bad. She's his—" He paused, lowering his voice. "She's his person. The last thing she needs is to hear it from someone else later."
Gina dropped her phone into her lap and sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll do it. I'm the best at breaking bad news anyway. I have, like, a gift. Remember when I told Boyle his karaoke skills were tragic? He cried, but he thanked me."
Terry gave her a look. "This is not the same thing, Gina."
"I know that," she said, rising and brushing off her skirt. "But Rosa respects me. Plus, if she's going to break furniture after I tell her, I can dodge faster than you."
Holt nodded once. "Go. Be concise. She will not appreciate rambling."
"Please, Captain," Gina said with a tiny smirk. "When do I ever ramble?" She stood up, flipped her hair, and headed toward the exit.
---
[A few minutes earlier...] [Ray's house]
Rosa moved with a slight stiffness, the ache in her ribs reminding her not to push too far. She could walk without trouble, but deep breaths and sudden movements still hurt.
Janice had noticed, of course. She noticed everything. Still, she didn't fuss or hover. She knew Rosa didn't like to show her weaknesses. Instead, she led Rosa down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
"Come," Janice said, opening the door.
The room was elegant in a restrained way. Dark wooden furniture, cream-colored curtains drawn against the moonlight, and a faint scent of sandalwood from a candle that had been snuffed out hours ago.
Janice crossed to the far wall, where a tall wardrobe stood. "You mentioned earlier that you preferred axes."
Rosa arched an eyebrow. "Yeah. They're reliable. More force, less finesse. And nobody expects someone to come at them with an axe anymore. It's unpredictable."
Janice glanced over her shoulder with a smile. "Interesting. I've always found knives to be more… intimate. But axes have presence. A statement weapon. I remember having so much fun with axes too, back in the days."
She pressed her palm to the side panel of the wardrobe. A soft click sounded, and the panel slid aside, revealing a hidden compartment.
Rosa stepped closer, eyes widening despite herself. Inside gleamed a collection that could've been mistaken for a private museum: hand-forged axes, machetes, combat knives, even a few blades Rosa couldn't immediately name. Each weapon was meticulously cared for, polished and sharpened, arranged with reverence.
"Holy…" Rosa let out a low whistle. "This is one hell of a stash."
Janice had shown Rosa her first collection of weapons, but this... this was something else.
Janice's eyes glinted with pride. "My husband believed every home should be defended with more than locks and alarms. I… expanded on his principles." She gestured toward the rack. "These are not for display. Every piece here is ready to kill."
Rosa stepped forward and picked up a double-headed axe from the rack. She tested its heft with one hand, then both. The balance was perfect. The edge caught the soft light with a clean gleam.
"This one," Rosa said, giving it a small swing. "Feels right. You can tell it was made for more than chopping wood."
Janice nodded. "It was. Old steel, reforged by a craftsman upstate. The kind of weapon that can split a log… or a skull."
Rosa grinned faintly. "Now you're speaking my language."
They stood in silence for a moment, Rosa testing the grip, Janice watching with sharp approval.
"You have good instincts," Janice said at last. "Most people get distracted by the machetes. Flashier, easier to imagine in a fight. But you went for the axe. That tells me something."
Rosa tilted her head. "And what's that?"
"That you don't fight for show," Janice said. "You fight to end it. Efficient and ruthless." She paused, her tone softening. "You and my son have that in common."
Rosa set the axe back carefully, meeting Janice's eyes. "Maybe that's why we work."
Janice gave a small nod, almost satisfied. "Maybe."
Just then, Rosa's phone buzzed. She took it out of her pocket. It was from Gina. She took the call. "Hey."
On the other end, Gina's voice was unusually serious. "Rosa. You need to sit down."
"What happened?" She narrowed her eyes.
"Is Ray's mom beside you?" Gina asked.
"Yeah."
"Put it on speaker. There is something both of you need to know, calmly."
Rosa put the phone on speaker, "Speaker on."
"Okay. I know you don't like it when someone sugarcoats things, so I'll be straight. It's Ray. He's in surgery. He was ambushed while working on a case. SUV, gunfire, the whole Jason Bourne setup. He's alive, but it's bad."
Rosa went still. For a long second, her mind was nothing but static. Then the fire kicked in. "Where is he?"
"Downtown Brooklyn Hospital. He's still in the OR. Holt, Terry, and I are here. Jake and Boyle went after the suspects with Amy."
Rosa didn't answer. She was already moving. She rushed to the main door and was already pulling on her boots even though her ribs protested.
"Rosa," Gina said carefully. "Don't rush. You're not supposed to drive yet."
"Screw that." Rosa snapped the phone shut and jammed it into her pocket. She turned for the door.
"Stop," Janice's voice cut sharply across the room. Rosa spun, wild-eyed.
"You don't understand. He's on that table and—"
"I'm his mom," Janice said firmly. She was surprisingly calm despite hearing the news of her son getting shot and in bad condition. "So, yeah. I understand, but rushing out in your condition will not help him."
Rosa's breathing was ragged, her body vibrating with adrenaline. "I can't sit here. I can't just wait."
Janice stepped closer and put on her shoes. "We'll go together. I'll drive." Her tone softened just slightly. "And he will want you there when he wakes up. That means arriving in one piece."
Rosa closed her eyes for a beat, then gave a curt nod. "Fine. Let's go."
...
[On the way...]
Minutes later, the Whites' luxury SUV tore down the gravel drive, headlights cutting across the fields. Rosa sat stiff in the passenger seat, hands clenched into fists on her knees. Every bump in the road rattled her sore ribs and nose, but she ignored the pain. Her mind kept circling the same thought: Ray got shot, Ray is bleeding, Ray is not waking up.
Janice drove fast, her gaze fixed on the road. "Do not waste your strength on panic. He has survived worse than this. And he heals faster than normal people. He'll be alright."
Rosa turned to her, searching her face. "You sound certain."
"I am his mother," Janice said, eyes hard. "I know what he can endure. What I worry about is..." She looked at Rosa with cold eyes. "...that I might not be able to hold myself back from hunting those who have hurt my son."
...
[Hospital]
The elevator doors opened with a chime. Rosa stepped out first, followed by Janice.
Holt was the first to notice. His posture straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing as recognition flickered across his face.
'She's his mother?! This is really bad."
His hand twitched as if he might salute, but Janice gave the faintest shake of her head, a subtle warning. He froze mid-motion, adjusted his glasses, and clasped his hands behind his back instead.
Terry froze mid-pace when he saw Rosa. "Rosa… you shouldn't be out of bed."
Rosa ignored the remark. Her gaze shot past them to the glowing red light above the double doors. Her voice was low and tight. "How bad is it? Tell me everything."
Holt spoke evenly, but his eyes betrayed the tension behind his words. "He sustained three gunshot wounds. One to the thigh, one to the arm, and one to the abdomen. The abdominal wound caused the most concern. He lost a significant amount of blood before arrival, but the surgeons have been working for over an hour. They have not called for us, which means they are still fighting for him."
Rosa's jaw clenched. She stayed rooted in place, hands flexing restlessly at her sides. "Who did this?"
Terry sighed. "A reinforced SUV tried to run him over out of nowhere when he was getting off his bike. Plus a shooter on a motorcycle with an Uzi. Amy saw it all. She, Jake, and Boyle are chasing the leads right now. Forensics already pulled what they could off the street, but it looks like pro work."
Rosa looked from Holt to Terry, then back at the doors. Her voice broke through the silence, steady but tight. "He's going to make it. He has to." She slumped down on a waiting chair.
Terry placed a hand on her shoulder. "He's tough. Tougher than anyone I've ever met. If anyone can pull through, it's Ray."
Rosa nodded once, but her eyes never left the operating room doors.
[A few minutes later...]
Holt and Janice walked away from the waiting area to talk in private. They stood near the stairs.
"I owe you an apology," Holt said finally, his voice carrying the weight of formality even here. "Raymond was assigned to this case because of my decision. His condition is the result of my order."
Janice studied him for a moment. "There is nothing to apologize for, Captain. My son chose this life. Duty comes with risk, and he has always known that."
Holt inclined his head slightly but his eyes remained fixed ahead. "Still. I cannot dismiss the responsibility."
Her lips curved faintly, though it was not quite a smile. "Responsibility is something I understand, Captain. But guilt is wasted energy. Raymond would tell you the same." She stepped closer. "The question is not whether you regret the order. The question is... What are we going to do about those assailants?"
Holt finally looked at her. There was recognition in his eyes, something unspoken, as if he were piecing together parts of a puzzle that had been sitting in front of him for years. "You are considering getting involved."
Janice tilted her head. "If I pull DNI resources into a personal matter, people will whisper. Misuse of power, favoritism, corruption. Bureaucrats love to smell blood in the water. You know that as well as I do. Besides, I'm on vacation. Off duty."
Holt adjusted his glasses. "Then you intend to stay uninvolved."
"Officially," Janice said smoothly. Her gaze drifted down the stairwell. "Unofficially, perhaps I will take a drive around the city tonight. Clear my mind. Brooklyn has a way of showing its face if you know where to look. Would you perhaps like to join me for some fresh air and maybe tell me about the case he was working on?"
Holt agreed almost instantly. "Very well. A short drive."
Janice's expression softened into something almost approving. "Good. I dislike wasting time."
[Note: How does Holt know her? Well, in his long career, he met and worked with many people.]
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