"Captain Anderson, I'm ready." John lowered his head as he spoke, his voice tight, betraying the nerves he tried to mask. His eyes, fixed on the floor, didn't register the tall stranger standing beside Zoe.
Zoe's cheeks colored faintly, though her voice remained steady. Raising her hand, she introduced the new arrival: "This is Captain Ginny Anderson. She'll accompany you on patrol and ensure your safety."
At the sound of the name, John's head snapped up. His eyes widened, disbelief written across his face. Ginny's resemblance was uncanny, as though his entire worldview had been upended.
The new captain barely spared him a glance. With a cold snort, her lips tightened, and she extended a hand. "Keys."
John fumbled, caught off guard. After an awkward pause, he hurriedly produced the squad car keys and placed them in her palm. Ginny's long fingers closed around them, and she turned crisply, her uniform pressed to perfection. Her tall figure and swaying stride drew stares from every corner of the precinct. Murmurs spread like ripples across the room.
By the time they reached the garage, the whispers had only grown louder. Ginny slid into the driver's seat without hesitation, the aura of command radiating from her every movement.
"7-A-15, flagging in for dispatch," John muttered into the radio, though his voice carried a tinge of confusion.
From the driver's seat, the new captain's tone was frost itself. "Call me Captain Anderson from now on."
"Y-yes… Captain Anderson." John leaned back, unsettled, his chin in his hand as the car eased onto the streets of Los Angeles.
The Ambush
For half an hour, they drove aimlessly through neighborhoods cloaked in the glow of late-night neon. The silence in the car pressed heavy on John, who still struggled to reconcile the presence of Zoe's replacement.
Then, a warning crackled across their earpieces. Captain Ben Sikora's voice carried a rare urgency.
"Look sharp. They're coming!"
John twisted around. In the rearview mirror, a dark minivan with reflective black film clung to their bumper, shadowing every turn. Ginny's hands tightened on the wheel. She pressed the accelerator, weaving through traffic, but the minivan matched every maneuver.
They shared a sharp glance. No words were needed. Ginny jerked the wheel, guiding the patrol car into a narrow alley. The minivan followed, headlights cutting through the gloom like a predator's eyes.
The trap snapped shut. Gunfire erupted, echoing off the brick walls. Muzzle flashes lit the darkness, carving chaos into the night.
By the time backup swarmed the alley minutes later, only carnage remained. A stretcher rolled out under the glare of flashing red and blue lights. Beneath the white sheet, Zoe Anderson's uniform was soaked scarlet.
John's panicked voice had already rung out across every LAPD channel: "Officer down! I repeat, officer down! Damn it—they killed Captain Anderson!"
Behind Prison Walls
At that same hour, the iron door of a maximum-security cell groaned open. Superintendent Gray stepped inside, his expression darker than usual, his heavy boots thudding against the concrete.
The prisoner lounging on the steel-framed bed sat upright. The years had grayed his Mohawk but not his piercing eyes. King Midas, the infamous founder of the Southern Front, smirked.
"Well, well. I hear a policeman wants to speak with me. And it turns out to be you. Ten years, Gray, and you're still just a superintendent? I thought I'd see stars on your shoulders by now."
Gray's face twitched with annoyance. "Cut the crap. I'm here for the wanted order."
Midas's grin widened, yellow teeth flashing. "My men's bodycam told the story. Your officer's girl attacked with a knife, and he defended himself. That fool Cole overreacted, sure—but it's not the first time. Sons always want to prove themselves."
Gray's jaw hardened. "We've already dismantled seven of your dens in less than a day. A hundred of your men arrested. Millions in revenue gone. Tomorrow, we'll do the same in San Diego, San Jose, Victorville. At this rate, your son's recklessness will erase your empire."
Feigning boredom, Midas leaned back, arms folded. "Empty threats. You've been 'friends' with me for nearly twenty years, haven't you? It was my arrest that gave you your badge of honor. You wouldn't dare take this too far."
Gray took a step closer, dismissing the guards with a curt gesture. When the door shut behind them, his voice dropped low, dangerous.
"My female chief personally insisted on protecting that rookie. Imagine what happens if your men fire on her car. The LAPD won't stop. They'll bring the FBI, the ATF, maybe even the Guard. You think you can survive war with every cop in California?"
For the first time, Midas's smirk faltered. Suspicion crept into his eyes, searching Gray's for any sign of bluff.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until the shrill ring of Gray's phone cut through. He turned away to answer.
"What? …Dead?" His face shifted through a kaleidoscope—shock, anger, sorrow, and something darker, almost relief.
Snapping the phone shut, Gray fixed Midas with a look of grim finality. "It doesn't matter anymore."
He turned toward the door.
"Explain yourself," Midas demanded, rising from his cot.
Gray's voice echoed off the concrete, cold and certain. "Two of your men attacked the rookie's car. One is dead, the other fled. The rookie survived—but they killed Commissioner Anderson."
Midas's face drained of color.
"Cole is finished. Every cop in California will hunt him down without hesitation. And your Southern Front? Done. The FBI will swoop in, and it's too late to stop it now."
Gray left the cell, the clang of the door reverberating like a death knell.
Midas staggered to the barred window, clutching the frame. His voice roared down the corridor, ragged with desperation.
"You're lying! Bluffing! This is impossible!"
Gray's fading voice carried back, each word a nail in the coffin. "Confirm with your men. News travels fast. You're finished. I've got bigger things to handle now."
The corridor swallowed his footsteps, leaving King Midas pale and trembling in the dim light.
An hour later, the iron door creaked open again. Superintendent Gray reappeared, his face shadowed with unreadable intent.
Midas's composure cracked as he stepped forward, his voice sharp with dread.
"Tell me, Gray—what happened out there?"
(End of Chapter 49)