35 parts Complete The city pulsed under a velvet sky, its neon signs flickering like whispered lies. In a small apartment above the urban hum, Freen Sarocha leaned against the kitchen doorway, her eyes soft as she watched Becky Armstrong chop vegetables. The scent of garlic and basil swirled around them, wrapping their home in warmth. Three years of love, and Freen still felt her breath catch at Becky's shy smile.
"You're staring," Becky said, her voice light, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing at Freen with a playful grin.
"Caught me," Freen replied, stepping closer. She slipped her arms around Becky's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "You're too pretty when you cook."
"Maybe," Freen teased, pressing a kiss to Becky's cheek. The world felt perfect in that moment-just them, their laughter, their love. But Freen's phone buzzed on the counter, slicing through the calm. She sighed, checking the screen. A text from Nam, her forensic specialist: Phantom struck again. Meet at precinct. Urgent.
Freen's stomach tightened. Phantom-the mafia boss who'd haunted her career, always slipping through her fingers. A shadow who left taunting notes and empty hideouts, mocking her every step. She hated how the case stole moments like this, pulling her from the woman she loved.
"Work?" Becky asked, her eyes gentle but curious. She knew Freen's life as a police officer was a constant battle, one that weighed on her heart.
"Yeah," Freen said, forcing a smile. "Gotta go. Save me some food, okay?"
"Always," Becky promised, squeezing Freen's hand. "Stay safe, love."
Freen grabbed her jacket and stepped into the city's restless night, the door clicking shut behind her.
The city buzzed on, blind to the storm brewing. Freen and Becky's love was a beacon in the dark, but a shadow was watching, waiting to tear it apart. A shadow without a name, without a face-yet. And the chase had only just begun.