Lines in the Code

Chapter 1: Warnings Ignored

The precinct had a different energy in the early hours of the morning, when the usual chaos of ringing phones and barking orders gave way to a muted hum. Most of the desks were empty now, their occupants gone home for a few hours of rest before the cycle began again.

Detective Xavier Cross sat at his desk, the only sign of life in the dimly lit bullpen. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the surface, his gaze locked on the small USB drive lying in front of him.

It had been hours since the subway chase. The adrenaline that had kept him sharp and focused through the night had burned out, leaving behind a dull ache in his muscles and the heavier thrum of frustration in his chest.

The USB was a decoy. He'd known it the second he plugged it into his laptop and found nothing but layers of scrambled junk data. But it wasn't the drive itself that bothered him—it was the act of leaving it behind. Ph. S had wanted him to find it, had calculated every step of their encounter to make Xavier feel like he was getting closer.

It was a game. And Xavier hated games.

"Nice try, Detective," he muttered under his breath, echoing the words he imagined Ph. S would have said with that infuriating smirk.

"Talking to yourself now?"

The voice startled him, and Xavier glanced up to see Captain Helena Ford standing in the doorway of her office, her sharp eyes fixed on him. She tilted her head toward her office. "Come on. We need to talk."

Xavier grabbed the USB drive and pocketed it before pushing himself to his feet. He followed Ford into her office, the quiet hum of the bullpen fading as the door clicked shut behind him.

The room was cool and orderly, the sharp lines of Ford's desk and the precise arrangement of case files reflecting her no-nonsense personality. She didn't sit, leaning instead against the edge of her desk with her arms crossed.

"You look like hell," she said bluntly, her piercing gaze not missing a thing.

Xavier remained silent, his posture stiff, standing like a soldier awaiting reprimand.

Ford sighed, shaking her head. "Cross, you're one of my best. But I need you to focus. Your work on the cartel case has been slipping, and now I hear you've been chasing some hacker down a subway station?"

"It wasn't just 'some hacker,'" Xavier said, his tone calm but firm. "It was Ph. S."

Ford's jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing. "I don't care if it was God himself. You've been running in circles after this phantom for months. And what do you have to show for it? A fake USB drive and a whole lot of wasted time."

Xavier's fists clenched at his sides, but he kept his voice steady. "Ph. S is more than just a hacker. He's precise, methodical—"

"He's irrelevant," Ford interrupted, her voice sharp. "You're chasing ghosts while the cartel is expanding their operations under our noses. Do I need to remind you of the body count tied to them?"

Xavier's jaw tightened further, the muscles working beneath his skin as he bit back a retort.

Ford stepped closer, her tone softening, but only slightly. "Listen to me, Cross. I know Calder still weighs on you, but you need to let this go. This obsession is clouding your judgment, and it's going to cost you more than just a case. If I see another report from you that's anything less than perfect, I'll pull you off active duty altogether. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Captain," Xavier said through gritted teeth.

"Good." Ford stepped back, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she gestured toward the door. "Get back to work. On something that matters."

Xavier left her office feeling like the walls of the precinct had closed in around him. He walked back to his desk, his footsteps heavy, the frustration gnawing at his insides like a persistent ache.

Harris was waiting for him, leaning casually against Xavier's desk with that infuriating smirk of his. "So, how'd it go? Let me guess—Ford gave you the 'stop chasing your white whale' speech."

Xavier ignored him, pulling out the cartel files Ford had dumped on his desk earlier. He flipped through the pages with quick, mechanical movements, the words blurring together.

"Oh, come on," Harris pressed, dragging a chair over and plopping down beside him. "You can't expect me to let this one slide. What'd she say? That you're wasting department resources? That you've got one foot out the door? She's not wrong, you know."

"Harris," Xavier said, his voice low and warning, "leave it."

Harris tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly. "You're not seriously still on this, are you? You're acting like this hacker is the second coming of Moriarty, but all you've got to show for it is a fake USB drive and a lot of wasted man-hours."

Xavier's hands stilled, his gaze snapping to Harris. "If you have a point, I suggest you make it."

Harris shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Look, man, we've all been there. A big case goes sideways, leaves a mark. But maybe chasing this hacker isn't about the case. Maybe it's about Calder."

The words hit their mark, but Xavier didn't flinch. "Don't," he said sharply.

"I'm just saying," Harris continued, undeterred, "maybe you're trying to fix something that can't be fixed. Maybe it's time to let it go."

Xavier stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Harris called after him, but Xavier was already walking away, the files forgotten on his desk.

***

Across the city, Skylar Hayes stepped off the curb and into the shadows of a narrow alley. The late-night streets were quieter now, the frenetic energy of the day dulled by the creeping hours.

His bag was slung tightly across his back, the weight of it familiar and reassuring. He'd spent the last few hours dismantling his previous setup, scrubbing every trace of his presence from the hideout he'd abandoned. Now, he stood in front of a rusted metal door at the back of an old apartment building, the paint peeling in long strips like shed skin.

The lock was simple enough to pick. The faint click of tumblers falling into place echoed in the stillness. Skylar pushed the door open and stepped inside, his footsteps muffled against the dusty floor.

The room was small, barely more than a storage closet, but it was hidden—buried at the end of a forgotten corridor on the building's third floor. It would do.

He set his bag down carefully, his movements precise despite the weariness tugging at his limbs. Unzipping the bag, he pulled out his laptop and a small signal jammer, arranging them on the floor in front of him.

As his fingers moved mechanically over the equipment, his mind wandered.

The image of Xavier's face flashed through his thoughts again—sharp eyes, a clenched jaw, and the sheer intensity that had radiated from every inch of him.

No one had ever come that close before.

Skylar leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't afford to think about Xavier, couldn't afford to dwell on the way his heart had raced when their gazes had locked.

But the memory lingered anyway, stubborn and unwanted, like a shadow he couldn't shake.

For the first time, doubt began to creep in.

"Focus," Skylar muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to dislodge the thought.

He turned his attention back to his laptop, the familiar glow of the screen chasing away the unease. There was work to do—there was always work to do.