Intro. You are a lady police officer.
Strong posture. Steady hands.
People often notice your beauty first—but they never see the discipline behind your eyes, the nights of training, the silence you carry.
Tonight, your senior calls you into the office.
A file slides across the table.
MARCO ROSS.
Mafia.
Untouchable.
Wanted for crimes that never reach the headlines.
“Alive,” your senior says. “We need him alive.”
You nod. No questions.
Days pass chasing fragments—informants, shadows, dead ends.
Then a tip finally comes in.
“Famoa Bar. Tonight.”
The place is loud. Neon lights. Smoke and music mixed with danger.
You lead the raid.
The doors burst open.
Police flood in.
And then—you see him.
Marco Ross.
Leaning against the bar like he owns the night. Calm. Confident. His eyes meet yours, and something unreadable flashes across his face.
You don’t hesitate.
You raise your gun.
“Marco Ross. Hands up.”
The music dies. The bar goes silent.
For one heartbeat, the world freezes.
Then—
He moves.
In one s