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The Spark

Auteur: Hallie Shoemaker
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2026-02-08 12:18:12

Rowan stepped out of her precinct’s parking lot three days later, hair still damp from a rushed shower, uniform swapped for jeans and a black tee that clung to the shape of her shoulders. She’d worked two late shifts back-to-back, slept in four-hour fragments, and her body felt like it was running on fumes and stubbornness.

Coffee wasn’t a luxury today.

It was survival.

She crossed the street with the pedestrian light, the city morning pressing in around her—delivery trucks, honking cabs, const
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  • The Cross Family   The Second Leak

    The second leak dropped at 9:03 p.m.This time, it wasn’t subtle.It wasn’t speculation wrapped in careful language or blurry images framed as questions.It was clear.Deliberate.Explosive.Casey was in the Cross estate gym when his phone buzzed violently against the bench beside him. He’d been pushing himself harder than usual lately—lifting until his arms trembled, running until his lungs burned. It was the only place the noise in his head quieted.The phone buzzed again.And again.He grabbed it, sweat cooling against his skin.Cameron’s name flashed across the screen.He answered immediately. “What?”Cameron didn’t sound like himself. His usual humor was gone. “You need to see what just posted.”Casey’s stomach sank. “Where?”“Everywhere.”Casey hung up and opened his browser.The headline was already trending.CROSS HEIR IN BED WITH LAW ENFORCEMENT? Shocking Photos Raise QuestionsHis pulse spiked.He clicked.The photos loaded in a series.The first was unmistakable.The street

  • The Cross Family   Internal Affairs

    Rowan knew the email was coming before she opened it.She’d felt it in the shift in tone that morning—the way conversations lowered a notch when she walked past. The way her lieutenant avoided direct eye contact. The way the captain’s office door had remained half-closed instead of open, like it usually was.Her phone buzzed at 8:12 a.m.Subject: Internal Review — Immediate Attendance Required.She didn’t let her face change.She finished her coffee.Then she walked upstairs.The Internal Affairs office was too bright. The kind of fluorescent lighting that made every expression look harsher, every hesitation more visible.Two officers sat at the table when she walked in.Sergeant Mills. Older, methodical. The type who believed in rules more than people.Detective Alvarez. Younger. Sharp eyes. Always evaluating.“Officer Vale,” Mills greeted evenly. “Have a seat.”Rowan sat.Back straight. Hands folded on the table. Calm.“What’s this about?” she asked, even though she already knew.Al

  • The Cross Family   The First Leak

    The photos surfaced at 6:42 a.m.Casey was halfway through his morning run on the estate’s outer trail when his phone began vibrating relentlessly in the pocket of his hoodie. He ignored it at first. The Cross family group chat was active at all hours. Cameron sending music drafts. Mya sending pregnancy updates. Adrian sending legal links no one else wanted to read before coffee.It wasn’t until the fifth vibration—long, sharp, insistent—that Casey slowed to a stop.He pulled the phone out, breath fogging in the cool morning air.Thirty-seven notifications.Four missed calls.Two from Alexander. One from Adrian. One from a number he didn’t recognize.His stomach tightened.Casey tapped the first message in the family thread.Alexander: Do not respond to anything. We are handling it.Adrian: Call me immediately.Casey scrolled.Cameron had dropped a link.He clicked it.The headline loaded slowly, then slammed into him.CROSS HEIR’S DARK NIGHT: Drug-Fueled Chaos, Arrest, and What the F

  • The Cross Family   Crossing

    Rowan had spent most of the week pretending the late-night phone call hadn’t changed anything.It had been easier when the city was loud and chaotic, when her shifts ran long and her thoughts were drowned out by sirens and paperwork and the endless rhythm of police work. It had been easier when she could tell herself the pull toward Casey Cross was just proximity, just adrenaline, just the strange intensity that sometimes came from shared vulnerability.But quiet had a way of peeling away lies.And tonight was quiet.Her shift ended just before midnight, the station thinning into the slow exhale of a city beginning to sleep. Rowan shrugged into her jacket, tugged her hair into a loose knot, and stepped out into the cool air. The streetlights painted everything amber and soft, turning the sidewalk into long ribbons of shadow and light.She should have gone straight home.Instead, she found herself walking slower than usual, her thoughts drifting back to his voice. The honesty in it. Th

  • The Cross Family   Confessions Without Touch

    Rowan didn’t save Casey Cross’s number.That was the lie she told herself as she stood in her kitchen at one in the morning, staring at her phone like it was an object that might bite.Her apartment was quiet in the way only small spaces could be—refrigerator humming, the city muffled beyond the windows, a faint ticking from a cheap wall clock she kept meaning to replace. Her boots were kicked off near the door, her hair twisted up in a messy knot, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt that still smelled faintly like detergent and smoke from the bar.She had been home for hours.Had showered. Had eaten two bites of leftover pasta. Had tried to read a book she didn’t care about.None of it stuck.Because her brain kept circling back to him.Not to his name. Not to his family. Not to the scandal.To the way he’d stood at the bar and looked at her like she was the first person in his orbit who didn’t want something from him.Rowan hated that she understood that feeling.Her phone lit up o

  • The Cross Family   After Hours

    Rowan didn’t drink much.Not because she was morally superior, and not because she didn’t like the warmth in her bloodstream after a long shift. She just didn’t like feeling dulled. The job trained you to stay ready, even when you weren’t on the clock. Even when you told yourself you were.Tonight, though, she’d agreed to one beer.One.It was a Thursday, which meant the bar was half-full of exhausted office workers and people who hadn’t figured out their lives yet. Rowan sat at the far end of the counter in a corner stool—back to the wall, sightline to the door. Habit. Her hair was down, black waves brushing her shoulders, and the tattoos that usually stayed hidden under a uniform sleeve were on full display now—ink climbing over her forearms and peeking at the edge of her collar.She liked this version of herself. The one who belonged only to her.Her friend Lana was halfway through a story about a disastrous date when Rowan’s phone buzzed with a text.Lana: You’re not listening. Yo

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