C29 Police Snitch

Cradling his phone tightly to his ear, Damien Cross relaxed in his dark office, the shadows dancing across his keen features. He was constantly reminded of the chaos he thrived in by the subtle buzzing of the city.

He talked in a smooth, deep, and authoritative voice.

With a touch of frustration leaking through his normally composed demeanor, Damien drawled, "Benson, you better have good news for me."

Detective Benson, a mole Damien had carefully positioned within the state security agency, answered the phone in a tone that was equal parts urgent and respectful. "We have a situation, Mr. Cross. About the fire at that studio, they suspect it's arson, and an investigation is underway. Evidence was left by the fools who did it. They made a mess.”

Damien tightened his jaw. “Evidence? This was supposed to be a clean job, right?”

Benson let out a sigh, clearly frustrated. “They should have been more cautious, but they weren't. Investigators discovered traces of accelerants. You must deal with this as soon as possible or it could become an issue. Lucas Hawke has been poking into the case too.”

After a long, tense stillness, Damien spoke once more in a chilly tone. "I'll see to that. Benson, you've been helpful as usual. A sizable sum will be wired to you soon.”

“I'm grateful, Mr. Cross.” Benson promised, his tone brightening with the promise of money, "I'll keep you updated."

With a quick click, the call terminated, and Damien reclined in his chair, already planning his next move.

Then, without further delay, he called Ferdinand.

After the second ring, Ferdinand answered, his voice full of the fake confidence Damien hated. "How can I—"

With a voice like a sword cutting through the air, Damien interjected, "Cut the bullshit, Ferdinand. We have a problem since you hired amateurs to do the work at that studio. There was evidence left behind. Proof, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand stumbled, "I… I didn't think—" after a silence on the other end.

"That's damn correct!” Damien, whose patience was becoming thin, yelled. "You didn't think. Listen, you're going to tidy up this mess now. Or you may think of yourself as unemployed. Do you understand?”

Ferdinand said in a low, hardly audible murmur. “Indeed, Mr. Cross. I'll take care of it.”

"You had better be quick about it and make no mistakes this time.” Damien cautioned, before disconnecting the call.

************************************************

As the days went by, it became clear that Sophia and Lucas were uncomfortable.

Lucas became almost fanatical in his protective conduct after the terrifying sketch was found in her workshop.

Although it made sense that he would want to protect her, Sophia felt uneasy about his unpredictable behavior.

She was in the process of repairing her broken sculpture when Lucas unexpectedly entered the studio. His eyes scanned every space as though anticipating an attack, and his presence was commanding. "You should be sleeping," Lucas stated in a kind but stern tone. "You shouldn't be by yourself here."

Sophia set down her tools with a groan. “We have discussed this, Lucas. If I'm always watching over my shoulder, I won't be able to accomplish this project. I won't be able to concentrate.”

Lucas stepped closer and insisted, "I just want you to be safe. Every time I consider the possible outcomes—"

Sophia gently interrupted, putting a hand on his arm and saying, "I know. I know that you're trying to keep me safe, but I need room to work and breathe, okay?"

Lucas's eyes showed the conflict as his jaw tensed. "Then allow me to join you here. Permit me to remain by your side.”

Sophia paused. She struggled to balance the unquestionable comfort that Lucas's presence offered with her craving for independence. "All right," she said, "but please, don't hover. I must concentrate.”

Lucas nodded, but his tense posture persisted. "I'll remain in the backdrop. It is sufficient to know that you are safe.”

The tension that had been between them seemed to lessen as they worked in friendly silence. But the calm didn't last long.

Later that night, Sophia got a surprise phone call from Shirley. Her voice had an intense, almost desperate tone. "We must meet, Sophia."

Sophia stated flatly, “I don't have time for more vague cautions and accusations, Shirley. Tell me now if it's something important.”

Shirley answered, "No," in a harsh voice. "This is not a phone conversation. Come to our usual café, I'll be there. It's important.”

Sophia reluctantly consented, her curiosity and frustration fighting for control. When she told Lucas she had to go, he insisted on going with her.

Sophia agreed on the condition that he didn't interfere with her meeting, no matter what and he would sit somewhere else.

Together, they reached the café, where Sophia saw Shirley seated in a quiet corner, her expression as grim as usual.

Lucas sat down at a table close by, keeping Sophia in the center of his gaze.

Sophia sat across from Shirley, who hardly recognized Lucas. Without any delay, she stated, "I'm sorry about your studio. But I know who started the fire," her eyes meeting Sophia's with a warning and urgency.

Sophia felt her heart beat faster. "Who? Tell me.”

Shirley lowered her voice and leaned in. "If you agree to leave Lucas, then I'll tell you."

Sophia retreated as her annoyance grew. "This isn't a game, Shirley. You must let me know if you know anything.

"It's not a game," Shirley shot back, her face stern. “It's your life. You will lose more than just your artwork if you continue to be with Lucas.”

Her comments lingered thick in the air, making Sophia question whether she could risk remaining at Lucas's side and how serious the danger was.