Breaking the Mafia's Heart

EMMA'S POV

I stepped into the station, my boots measured and controlled as I took in what surrounded me. Detectives hunched over case files; officers came rushing past with brief nods; and the ceaseless hum of voices surrounds me. This place was always its own energy of chaos and purpose. Though I had been here many times, today felt somehow different.

Just as I got to his office, I imagine he must have caught my scent because his door opened just as I reached his office. He was standing in the doorway with a wide grin stretching across his face, opening his arms to shake my hand.

"Winter," he said warmly, shining with that familiar, almost fatherly pride. "Another string of cases closed. Every assignment, solved and wrapped up. You're making this precinct look good, you know that?

I nodded slightly at him and returned his handshake. "Thanks, sir. Just doing my job.”

He leaned back, hands on his hips, assessing me with that familiar look of admiration. “It’s more than just a job with you. It’s dedication. You’ve got something special, Winter. This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”

I felt a flicker of pride, though I tried not to show it too much. His words lingered, though, grounding me in the reasons I'd chosen this life. Then I noticed him reaching for a brown envelope on his desk.

"This, though, is something else." He held it out for me to see.

I opened the envelope, staring at it in curiousness. "A new case?"

Captain Cross's expression changed to serious. "Not exactly new. It is from a year ago. The case was assigned to Officer Logan, but." He paused. "It is still unsolved. I think you are the right person to finally bring some justice here.”

I opened the envelope and looked down at it, and inside jumped out the name: Franco Gil. Even the mere act of looking at it brought memories of the case welling up again.

Franco Gil-the CEO of Golden Gil Industries-dead in his own warehouse. The city was abuzz with the mystery as headlines around town blared about a death of high profile with no suspect.

"Franco Gil," I breathed up to Cross. "This was Logan's case?"

He nodded. "Yes. He's been following leads, but nothing panned out. I think it's time for a fresh set of eyes—and, well, there's no one better than you for this."

Just as my head began to spin through the facts I recalled, the door opened and Logan himself walked in. He looked tired but there was an air of calm respect within his gaze as he stepped forward to hand me a folder.

"Emma," he said, greeting me.

"I heard you're taking over Franco Gil's case." With the sound of relief in his voice, he thrust out a file.

"I've got everything you need to get up to speed."

I held up the folder, its weight settling into my hands like a promise. A promise to find answers. To uncover what had been missed. I looked up at Logan, then at Captain Cross. This wasn't going to be easy, but I'd made peace with that a long time ago.

"Let's get to work," I said, my voice steady. There was no turning back now.

With a firm handshake and nod of respect, Logan and I turned to leave his office.

As I stepped out, I could feel the weight of the case already closing in on me, but it was familiar territory, just another challenge to face head-on.

"See you soon, Captain," I said over my shoulder, and Cross gave me a reassuring nod. His trust in me was palpable, but I sensed something else in his expression, too, something like. Anticipation.

We walked down the corridor in silence until we reached the station doors. Out in the open, he finally broke his silence as he looked at me very seriously.

"Emma, I need you to come with me," he said quietly. "To my place."

I raised an eyebrow and had to force the tension-breaking half-smile. "Your place, huh? Well, Logan, if you're going to make me come there, find a way to seduce me and steal my soul, then you ought to know I have been training for the case".

He shook his head but no trace of a smile creased his face. "This is no joke, Emma. This is serious. And confidential. I cannot explain it here. You'll understand once we get there.”

I stopped messing with him. Logan was one of the most composed men I'd ever met, and I knew when he was so serious about something that I should listen. I nodded silently, letting my mood darken to match the seriousness.

"Alright, Logan," I said. "Let's go,”

Without another word, we hopped into his car and went. With the city lights blurring outside, I thought of all the million questions. How sensitive, how secret is it that Logan cannot even comment on it inside the precinct?

Whatever it was, I was ready to uncover.

We had barely entered Logan's place when he headed straight for the small desk in the corner. There were papers, photos, and old newspaper clippings all stacked together in organized chaos. He pulled out a white folder from the pile and handed it to me; his face unreadable.

I slowly opened it and pieces of a puzzle unfolded with the contents. The first items were photographs and articles regarding the rivalry between two companies: Golden Gil Industries and Crimson Eagle Industries.

It was heated competition in order to dominate the city's sectors of tech and manufacturing, as I quickly skimmed through them.

"Golden Gil and Crimson Eagle," I whispered.

"This rivalry had more to do with market share than that."

"Exactly." Logan nodded.

"These two companies have been in each other's crosshairs for years. Franco Gil built his empire with precision, but Crimson Eagle was always nipping at his heels. Their rivalry was the stuff of legends, and it went deeper than business."

I kept turning the pages; the next picture stopped my eyes. It was an indistinct photograph of a set of men; their features were obscured, but unmistakably hardened. Their tattooed arms and sharp gazes gave them away as no ordinary crew.

Below it, in Logan's hand, was the name: Crimson Brotherhood. "Crimson Brotherhood?"

I raised my eyes to his.

Logan nodded curtly. "They're a mafia organization affiliated with Crimson Eagle Industries, the competitor to Gil's. These men run the dark of the world. They handle all the 'business' that Crimson Eagle might need to stay off the books. Brutal, connected, loyal only to one man.”

Flipping myself back down, I saw the pictures again, flipping through them until my fingers landed on the final shot. I almost let it drop when I gazed on the face in it—man with keen eyes, cocky nearly arrogant grin—and so powerful and ruthless; yet so familiar, gave me chills.

It was him. Thorne Crimson.