The detective couple welcomed them warmly. Ever since their first visit, Jack and Hannah had made it a habit to stop by every week. Jack would treat Hunter's lingering condition, while Hannah—bright and cheerful as ever—became the couple's sunshine. To Dee Dee especially, Hannah was almost like a daughter.
This time, Jack pushed things further. Under the pretense that Hunter's rehab had worked wonders, he quietly healed the old man's brain injury completely. When Dee Dee embraced him in gratitude, he took the opportunity to mend her body as well, undoing years of strain from overwork. Unless something went terribly wrong, the two would likely live past a hundred.
They were, after all, more than his childhood idols. A pair of lifelong lovers like them were as rare and precious in America as pandas—and worth protecting.
That evening, as their car left the Hunter villa, Jack stared absently out the window. Hannah, ever sharp, broke the silence. "Did you know Dee Dee was assaulted once? Hunter avenged her."
Jack nearly dropped the steering wheel. Of course he knew—he'd watched that storyline play out on screen. He'd cursed the writers for it. But… how did Hannah know?
"I've never heard of that. You two were just… chatting about it?" he asked cautiously.
Hannah didn't answer, just stared out the window. Jack's mind raced. Dee Dee wouldn't casually relive such trauma. Unless… she'd seen the same shadows in Hannah and had confided in her.
The thought made Jack's chest tighten, rage simmering under his skin. He reached over, patting Hannah's head gently. His voice was low but steady: "Hannah, I'm not one of those fools hung up on procedure. If someone I care about gets hurt, I'll pay it back—blood for blood, tooth for tooth. Understand?"
The law, Jack knew, was written to shield the rich. He hadn't joined the LAPD to serve the elites. Both the badge and his system were just tools—means to a better life. He wasn't a saint like John Nolan. If anything, he'd already checked the LAPD database—Chicago PD had an intelligence chief named Hank Voight. Even if he went "black," the system wouldn't stop him.
Hannah said nothing. She just lifted his hand to her cheek, rubbing against his palm. Her silence weighed heavier than words. Jack pulled over, turned to face her, and whispered, "Hey, you're the strongest, smartest girl I know. Maybe you're not ready yet, but when you open up… I'll be here. And I won't let you down."
Her lashes trembled, catching tears. Just as he leaned in, she suddenly burst into laughter. "So, Zoe already kissed you, huh?"
Jack jerked back, scowling. "That's not funny at all."
American casualness around relationships still baffled him. Four tangled hearts weighed on his mind every night. Hannah only smiled mischievously, pulling his hand tighter against her cheek. "Things aren't what you think. One day, I'll tell you everything. But first, you need to promise me something."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "What condition?"
"Don't fight back when we practice Krav Maga. You've threatened to spank me too many times."
Jack exhaled, slumping against the seat. "Yes, my landlady."
When the officers returned from administrative leave, the precinct erupted in cheers—not for their heroics, but because the rest of the force no longer had to cover the overtime.
The District Attorney's report confirmed the Bronson Tower shooting was lawful. Commendations followed: - Lucy, for delivering a baby under fire, earned the rare right to wear a short-sleeve uniform. - Bishop, once recovered, would be recruited by the ATF. - Angela, freed from their rivalry, was granted her detective designation and would transfer to the Bureau after six months. - Hannah and Tim were both promoted to First Class.
And Jack—Jack received the biggest reward. Headquarters commended his valor, shortening his probation to three months. In just two weeks, he'd be a full-fledged LAPD officer.
"You deserve it. If you weren't still a rookie, you might've earned a lifesaving medal," Superintendent Gray even admitted, his stern mask cracking for once.
The following weeks passed peacefully. Jack aced his rookie test, finally shedding the label. The system chimed, granting him a surge of experience and five gold coins—enough to raise any one skill to proficiency.
He decided to hold onto them, waiting for the right moment.
John and Lucy, both still stuck as rookies, congratulated him through gritted teeth, their envy poorly hidden. Jack, now more in tune with the American sense of pride, didn't play humble like a Chinese—he basked in it.
Of course, he overdid it. To soothe their bruised egos, he had to promise another feast at his place.
(End of this chapter)