"Go on," the detective said. His voice was cold, heavy with pressure. "Young Madam Harrington is…?"
Martha parted her lips. They moved hesitantly, as if weighing the words she was about to speak, before she finally began.
"Young Madam Harrington is…"
Before Martha could finish her sentence, a sharp sound suddenly cut through the room.
Crack… crack…
The walkie-talkie hanging in the corner sputtered violently, making several heads turn almost at once.
A moment later, a voice followed, distorted by an unstable connection.
"Attention. Attention. There has been an explosion involving a vehicle at the Maple Street intersection. A white Hyundai is suspected to have been involved in a hit-and-run and has caught fire. Flames are still active at the scene. Nearest units are requested to respond immediately."
The room, which only seconds ago had been thick with interrogation pressure, fell into sudden silence.
"Team Three, follow me. Now!"
The team leader's sharp command shattered the stillness. He strode out of the main room, one hand raised in a swift signal.
Without waiting for a response, he headed straight for the door, his steps long and hurried.
In an instant, the police station descended into chaos, not from suspects shouting, but from the pounding of boots and the clatter of equipment being grabbed in haste.
Several detectives rose at once, snatching up their jackets and service weapons before rushing out.
"Please handle this for me," the detective who had been questioning Martha said to another officer, before turning and following his team.
Martha and the man beside her remained seated. Both fell silent, exchanging confused glances.
I WILL GIVE YOU A PLACE TO REVENGE
The rotating lights reflected off the wet asphalt as the patrol car stopped at the scene.
The Maple Street intersection was already cordoned off with police tape. Traffic officers formed a barrier, holding back curious onlookers.
At the center of the crowd, the frame of what had once been a white car was now blackened and crushed. Half of its body was burned beyond recognition, flames still licking at certain sections as thick smoke poured from beneath the hood.
"What happened?" the team leader asked as he stepped out of the vehicle.
One of the traffic officers snapped to attention. "Suspected hit-and-run, sir. The vehicle overturned and suffered a fuel leak. The fire most likely originated from an electrical short after the crash."
"What about the fire department?"
"They've been called, sir. Estimated arrival in five minutes."
"Victim?" The team leader placed his hands on his hips, his gaze fixed on the flames consuming what remained of the white car.
"None found yet, sir. However, based on the condition of the vehicle when it was discovered, there is a strong possibility the victim was trapped inside at the time of the explosion."
The team leader clicked his tongue softly, his jaw tightening. The city had been quiet for far too long, and now he was facing something like this again.
There was something about the sight before him that weighed heavily on his thoughts.
The fire still burning seemed to open doors to possibilities he did not like. His instincts told him this case would not end with what was visible tonight.
"All right, then—"
Before he could finish, a voice from behind the vehicle stopped him.
"Captain Henry, could you come here for a moment?"
Henry turned and walked over to one of his men, who was crouched near the rear of the vehicle.
"What is it?" he asked.
Noah shifted slightly and raised his hand, pointing at the license plate partially obscured by soot. "This number feels familiar, sir."
Henry narrowed his eyes. "Eight-eight-eight."
He paused, his mind reaching back through his memory. The number felt familiar, too distinctive to be mere coincidence.
"Isn't that associated with the Harrington family?" he said finally.
"Yes, sir." Noah lifted his tablet, displaying the vehicle registration data on the screen. "I checked the system. This car is registered under Young Madam Harrington's name."
Henry's brow furrowed. He slowly turned to Noah, his gaze sharpening with alertness.
"Aren't you currently handling Young Master Harrington's extortion case?" he asked carefully, as if confirming the connections forming in his mind.
"Yes, sir."
"And now," he continued, looking back at the burned-out wreck, "we find Young Madam Harrington's vehicle in a hit-and-run case that ends in an explosion?"
Henry let out a short breath, one hand settling on his hip.
"It seems," his voice low and heavy, "we've just stepped into something far bigger than we expected."
I WILL GIVE YOU A PLACE TO REVENGE
Evan stood leaning against the rear door of his black sedan. His arms were crossed over his chest, his body still, but his mind anything but.
A small sign reading Happy Child glowed faintly above the clinic entrance. Its white light stood in stark contrast to the quiet night, as if the place existed apart from the outside world, calm, clean, and far too peaceful for what had just happened.
A few steps behind him, Leon stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back. His expression remained composed, as silent as ever. Still, Evan knew they were both unable to truly relax after the explosion.
Evan's gaze dropped to the tip of his shoes. The polished black leather reflected the dim streetlight.
He exhaled slowly.
He did not know when he had stopped calculating risks and started following instinct. All he knew was that the last few hours of his life had moved too fast, and now, when everything should have returned to normal, he was standing here.
With an unconscious woman, bloodied and unmoving.
Footsteps approached from a distance. Not hurried. Not cautious.
They carried a light rhythm, accompanied by a faint hum, almost as if someone were unconsciously humming to themselves.
The sound of heels clicked against the asphalt, echoing through the empty night.
Evan lifted his head.
From the shadows, Iris walked toward him. Her long hair flowed freely, swaying with each step. Her makeup was bold, her jewelry glinting beneath the streetlights, and both hands were laden with branded shopping bags, far too many for a casual nighttime stroll.
"Are you drunk?"
Evan's voice cut through the night.
Iris startled. She stopped abruptly, her body wobbling as she nearly lost her balance.
"Who's there?" she cried nervously, her hands flying up into a defensive stance that looked more like something out of a cheap action movie.
Evan stepped forward into the light, revealing a flat expression she knew all too well.
"It's me," he said shortly. "Evan."
Iris froze for a moment, then let out a long breath. Her shoulders relaxed, though her hands remained half-raised.
"Oh my God," she muttered. "You almost made me attack you."
Relief quickly gave way to suspicion. Iris narrowed her eyes, scanning Evan from head to toe.
"You never come this late," she said quietly. "What's wrong?"
"Have you been drinking?"
"Of course not," Iris snapped. "I was shopping. And humming does not mean I'm drunk."
Evan stepped half a pace closer. His gaze dropped, tracing her face in a way that made her click her tongue in annoyance.
"I told you—"
"I brought you a patient."
The words stopped her cold.
She followed Evan's line of sight to the black sedan behind him.
Through the slightly fogged glass, Iris could see the figure of a woman slumped in the back seat.
Her expression changed instantly.
"Are you insane?" she said under her breath. "This is a pediatric clinic."
She turned, digging her keys out of her bag as she walked toward the door. "Take her to a hospital, Evan."
"You're a former ER doctor," Evan said, following her. "And the best I know."
Iris stopped in front of the door.
"I'm not that anymore," she replied without turning. "Now I'm just a pediatrician who wants a quiet life."
Refusing to let it end there, Evan opened the car door.
The interior light spilled out, illuminating the woman's limp face. Her skin was pale, dried blood streaking her temple, her breathing barely perceptible.
Iris turned, then stopped completely.
Several seconds passed in silence.
"Only you can help her," Evan said, his voice deeper than before. "Please, Iris."
The word please fell between them like something fragile.
Iris closed her eyes briefly, then let out a long breath, like someone who knew she was losing to herself.
"Bring her inside," Iris said at last.
Evan looked at her. The tension pressing down on him eased, if only slightly. "Thank you."
"Don't expect too much," Iris glanced at him sideways. "I haven't said she'll survive."
"I know," Evan replied with quiet certainty. "You'll do everything you can."
Iris snorted softly. The corner of her lips lifted into a faint smile, one that only ever appeared when she was dealing with him.
Without another word, Iris pulled the clinic door open wide.
To Be Continued