Chapter 6

This time when I woke up,outside my window wasn't dark anymore and there were no nightmares that had me heaving, sweating and panting. I let out a shuddering breath as I threw the covers off me. My head felt heavy. I had woken up with a pounding headache, the kind that spreads from behind your eyes to the base of your skull. Last night's tears had dried on my cheeks, leaving my skin feeling tight and uncomfortable. I'd promised myself I wouldn't cry anymore, but sometimes promises are hard to keep when the nightmares come.

I still had the grey shirt and black pants I wore to the bar on. It was unnerving; the way the nightmares always hit like I'm having my breath knocked out. And then I find myself at a bar, trying to drink it all away. But it was different this time as I kept on feeling like I was being watched.

Slacking my shoulders, I tried to make sense of the past few days. My fingers curled around the sheet I was on as I struggled to think of when I've ever had a sense of normalcy in my life. It's always been the dawning sensation that I had a quest I was yet to accomplish whenever I woke up.

I remember it all. The nights I'd spent crying myself to sleep, the days I'd spent destroying things and breaking my knuckles. I was angry that I was left with what I had. And although, I've been working on simmering the rage a bit, I still felt it. Like an imprint right in my very bones.

I remember resuming school from Uncle's house,months after my parents' death and having to pretend it was okay so I don't get questioned. I soon got fed up with the sympathizes and pitiful looks. I hated it all. And no, it wasn't their fault they felt some sort of human emotion towards me. It wasn't their fault they felt sad and bad for me and wanted to help in ways they could. I blame the universe. So what? Everyone just get their own share of being 'pushed against a wall'?

"Fuck my life", I groaned, rising from the bed and moving to start the day. My suspension was to last for two weeks and it was beginning to feel like two months. I had nothing to do all day besides distract myself by sketching a little while also searching for clues and leads. I was a mess and I knew it. Normally,when people are self aware,they try to change and get better. But I didn't want to get better. No,I wanted to rot in it and eventually die. But not after I completed my life's quest.

I quickly brushed my teeth and cleaned up, threw on some comfortable clothes and walked to my bed. The plan today was to lie down, think about my miserable life and sleep off.

I heard a vibration on the table besides my bed,whilst trying to make it. It was Kyle and he had sent a text.

"Hey, I was wondering if you'd like to have breakfast with me today?"

I let out a snort as I read the text, immediately drifting back to that one memory of Kyle waking me up 6am in the morning to go to a shop to get coffee we could just make at home.

"You just want an excuse to hang out with me", the corners of my lips tugged up a bit as I texted him back. Safe to say that Kyle was the only friend I had and I was grateful for him. Even though, I never really showed it.

My phone made a ding sound again to let me know that I'd gotten a text back.

"Well, there's no denying the fact that I am a top fan of your company". He was the only top fan actually, noone came close.

"Don't you have to be at the station?", I typed with my left hand, furrowing my eyebrows as I struggled to get a corner of the sheet down with my other hand.

"Not right now. "

At the end of the conversation,we agreed to meet at a cafe about six minutes from my place. Kyle offered to come pick me up but I quickly declined. I still had some stuff to quickly do at home and I didn't want to keep him waiting.

Minutes later, I was done with the chores and had on a white tank top and a beige overall. I ran a hand through my hair and decided to pack it down and put a face cap on. Quickly, I grabbed my keys from the tabletop in the kitchen, wore some shoes and walked out of the house,whilst locking it behind me. It wasn't a sunny day and the atmosphere was just welcoming for a stroll.

I was about to step off the entrance of my house when something caught my eye. Something dark against the pale concrete of my doorstep. I froze, my fingers still wrapped around the doorknob.

A black rose. Perfect and pristine, as if someone had just placed it there moments ago. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I glanced around wildly, searching around for any sign of a watcher. I came up with nothing, just the usual morning sounds, distant traffic, a dog barking somewhere.

I picked up the rose cautiously, as if it might bite. No thorns. Someone had carefully removed them. The gesture seemed almost... considerate. And that terrified me more than if it had been covered in blood.

"What the hell..." I muttered, scanning around one more time. Was it him? The man from the alley, the one who'd pressed his dagger to my throat and then let me go?

I wanted to toss it into the nearest trash can, but something told me to keep it. Evidence. I went back inside, found a water glass, and placed the flower in it. Its black petals stood out starkly against the clean white of my kitchen counter.

I should report this. But what would I say? That the head of The Black Rose left me a flower? That I was being stalked by the most dangerous man in the city? That I'd let him go when I had the chance to take him down? My hands trembled slightly as I locked up again and headed for the cafe.

The diner was busy, full of the morning rush of people grabbing coffee before work. I slid into a booth near the back, away from the windows and opposite Kyle.

"Hey", He smiled as he took me in. He had on his police uniform, his sandy hair disheveled on his head. For some reasons, he rocked the 'nonchalant about my looks' look. He was such a fine man.

I gave him a soft smile as I addressed him, taking the coffee I'd asked for. "How've you been? You look weird" Kyle asked after we ordered. "Two weeks of 'let off' must be driving you nuts."

I stirred sugar into my coffee, watching it dissolve. "I'm fine."

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England." He leaned forward. "You look like hell, Jude."

"Thanks for the compliment," I said dryly, blowing into my cup to lessen the heat.

"I'm serious. Have you been sleeping at all?"

I shrugged a shoulder as I looked down at my cup of coffee and then at him. I didn't see the point in lying so I decided to contradict a bit. "Some."

Our food arrived, and I picked at my eggs without much enthusiasm. The image of the black rose kept flashing in my mind.

"The department's not the same without you," Kyle said after a while of silence.

I snorted as I stabbed at a piece of bacon ,"Yeah, I bet they're throwing parties now that the 'obsessed Laurent girl' is gone."

"That's not fair. Nobody's saying that."

"Not to your face, maybe." I met his eyes, "Come on, Kyle. We both know half the precinct thinks I'm crazy for going after The Black Rose."

He didn't deny it, which told me everything. It was a very obvious obsession. One I hate to admit but I had grown too attached to the case and I couldn't stop or help it.

"How's the new case going? The one with the shipyard murders?" I asked, changing the subject. I didn't want to leave here fuming with annoyance. Not today.

Kyle shook his head as he chewed on his food. "Nowhere fast. No witnesses, no evidence. They're ghosts, Jude."

"They're not ghosts. They're people. People make mistakes."

"Not these people." He lowered his voice. "Word is, it's an internal thing. The Black Rose cleaning house."

My interest piqued, as I straightened my back and gave him my full attention. "What do you mean?"

"Just rumors, but there's talk of a power struggle. The new boss, the Maestro, or whatever they call him—he's making changes. Not everyone's happy about it."

I leaned in, my right elbow on the table. "What kind of changes?"

Kyle shrugged a shoulder as he furrowed his eyebrows, as if trying to remember something. "Don't know the details. But bodies are dropping, and they're all connected to The Black Rose."

My mind raced as I went through everything. Could this be my way in? If there was discord in their ranks...

Kyle's phone buzzed, cutting into my thoughts. He glanced at it and frowned. "Dispatch. There's a situation downtown."

"What kind?"

"Multiple gunshots reported at an abandoned warehouse. Possible gang activity." He was already sliding out of the booth, dropping cash on the table.

I stood too, grabbing my jacket. "I'm coming with you."

"Jude, you're on leave—"

"Unofficial consultant," I cut him off. "Besides, you might need backup."

He hesitated, then nodded. "Fine, but you stay behind me, got it?"

*****

The warehouse loomed against the gray morning sky, a hulking relic from when this part of town was still industrial. Police tape fluttered in the breeze, uniforms already securing the perimeter.

Kyle flashed his badge, and we ducked under the tape. I could feel the stares as we walked passed, officers probably wondering what the hell I was doing there.

"They're inside," an officer told Kyle, not bothering to acknowledge me. "It's bad."

We entered through a side door, the smell hitting us immediately, metallic and thick. Blood. Lots of it.

The warehouse floor was a scene from a nightmare. Bodies sprawled across the concrete, at least six that I could count at first glance. Blood pooled around them, still wet and glistening under the harsh lights someone had set up.

Kyle swore under his breath as he took the sight in. "Jesus Christ."

I moved forward slowly, my eyes scanning the carnage. These weren't random victims. They wore expensive suits, gold watches. The kind of men who made decisions, who had power.

"Look at their hands," I murmured to Kyle as I viewed the bodies a little closer.

He followed my gaze. On each victim's right hand, a small tattoo, a black rose, its stem wrapped around the wrist. I still don't understand how the tattoos work. Members of the black rose had some type of branding,which was the tattoo of a black rose. Pretty obvious and dumb as it could sell anyone in the gang out immediately,if you ask me. But there was some sort of pattern. The guy brought to the precint a week ago that I'd beaten up had his own tattoo at the back of his ear and these bodies had on a different spot. I'm thinking it's some kind of ruse to drive us away from the real thing, but why sacrifice people? Why put them in that situation?

"Members," Kyle whispered. "Mid-level at least, maybe higher."

Or lower. But I didn't want to voice out my opinion or what I thought. It didn't make sense and I had nothing to back it up.

I knelt beside one body, careful not to touch anything. A clean shot through the head, precise and execution style. The others were the same,no passion, no rage. Just cold, calculated death.

"Laurent? What the hell are you doing here?"

I looked up to see Detective Harris striding toward us, his face twisted in annoyance. My former supervisor, the man who'd pushed hardest for my demotion.

"I invited her," Kyle said before I could answer. "Consultant."

Harris scoffed as he glared at me. "Consultant? She's on leave for misconduct, Lieutenant."

I stood slowly, wiping my hands on my jeans even though I hadn't touched anything. "Six victims, all Black Rose, all executed the same way. This wasn't random, Harris. This was a message."

"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job," he snapped at me, his eyes flicking to the bodies and back to me.

"No, you need me to do it for you," I shot back. "When was the last time you saw a hit this big on The Black Rose? This isn't street violence. This is internal."

Harris's face reddened, but before he could respond, the forensic team arrived. Dr. Chen, the head medical examiner, paused when she saw me.

"Jude," she said, surprise in her voice. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Just helping out," I said, feeling awkward. Chen and I had worked well together before everything went south.

She nodded, professional as always, and moved to the nearest body. Her team spread out, photographing, collecting, cataloging the scene.

I stepped back, letting them work, and found myself near a wall covered in graffiti. Most of it was old, faded tags and crude drawings.

The warehouse door banged open, and a figure stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of authority that made every head turn. Chief Marcus, head of the NHPD. My former boss.

His gaze swept the room, landing on me with a frown. "Laurent. What are you doing at my crime scene?"

I opened my mouth to speak but was cut by a raise of his palm. Marcus assessed me,frowning a bit, probably at my desired choice of outfit. He let out a sigh and said, "Walk with me"

I started to say something but noticed the stern look on his face. Whatever I had to say died down as I followed Marcus out. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I checked it to see I'd recieved a text message from an unknown number:

"Careful, Detective. When roses start to wilt, their thorns only get sharper."