Olivia Hayes slowly raised her hand and tore the earpiece from her ear.

Instantly, four gun barrels swung toward her in perfect synchronization.

Olivia possessed one lethal edge and one fatal flaw. The edge: she was fearless. The flaw: she was stubborn as hell. When combined, things usually got dangerous fast. The other side never backed down, and neither did she.

She remembered her fiancé’s warning, delivered with a smirk: "Fix that hothead streak, Liv, or don't come crying to me when the world plays rough." Olivia hadn’t argued back then; she’d just smiled. Being polite wasn't exactly his strong suit, either.

But old habits die hard. Ignoring every caution flag, she stared down the man across from her and flashed the badge in her right hand.

"Prosecutor's Office." Her voice was flat, mechanical. "Deputy Mayor Lang, you’re coming with me to assist in an investigation."

Victor Lang blinked, then a slow, amused smile spread across his face.

To wear the badge of Denver's Deputy Mayor at forty-one meant Lang had weathered every kind of political storm. There was no panic in his eyes. He paused, looking Olivia up and down as if she were a clueless intern. He leaned in, his posture radiating arrogance. "How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty-six."

Lang, a man who calculated odds for a living, did the math instantly. "College grad for three years. Green as grass."

He was a political shark who saw the world in transactions. "Youth is your goldmine," he mused. "Limitless potential. Stick with me, and the sky’s the limit. I led your entire squad on a wild goose chase to Austin, and they took the bait. But you? You pinned me here solo. Impressive."

He chuckled darkly. "You think bagging me gets you a promotion? Let me teach you a lesson: Old monsters don't die easily. Cut me loose. Consider it your insurance policy."

Olivia remained stone silent.

Lang enjoyed the silence. He thrived on two types of people: the terrified and the corruptible. He tilted his chin, looking down at her. "Thought it over?"

"No."

"Oh?"

"It’s funny," Olivia deadpanned. "Hearing a lecture on the 'straight path' from a guy one heartbeat away from handcuffs."

Victor’s jaw tightened. He hadn't expected the bite. "Fine. It’s your funeral."

The thrum of helicopter rotors vibrated through the skyscraper's roof. The wind whipped around them. Lang spun around, waving his hand dismissively as he strode toward the helipad like a kingpin. "Grab her."

Ryan Cole stormed up the forty-three flights of stairs, lungs burning. Just as he hit the roof access door, gunshots cracked.

Damn it.

"Hayes! Stand down!" The boss bellowed in his earpiece. "Backup is inbound—do you copy?"

"Boss," Ryan panted, slamming his shoulder against the door. "Too late. She ditched her comms."

"Cole! Extract her! Lang is cornered!"

"Boss, no dice," Ryan yelled over the wind. "She’s already engaging!"

Ryan ripped off his own headset. Weapon drawn, chambered—he felt the adrenaline spike. He trusted Olivia’s intelligence about as far as he could throw her, but her combat skills? Ironclad.

By the time Ryan burst onto the roof, the scene was chaos. Olivia had already disarmed the guards. Two were down, clutching their knees; two were still standing. Olivia scooped up a heavy metal pipe from the construction debris and swung.

Ryan’s lips twitched. Good thing I’ve never crossed her.

Six months ago, she’d gotten engaged. He thought she’d been tamed. Her fiancé must be made of steel to handle this woman.

Olivia’s roundhouse kick connected, sending Lang crashing to the deck. Ryan moved in, gun trained on the remaining threats. "Police! Down!"

Lang sprawled on the concrete, grinning through bloodstained teeth. "The Prosecutor's office sent muscle this time. The last one? I heard she ran away crying."

Olivia froze.

"The 'last one,'" she repeated softly. "You remember her?"

Lang sneered. "Young. Female. Weak."

Olivia stepped closer, her movement deliberate, predatory. Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Harper Ellis. My colleague."

Before Lang could react, Olivia launched a kick mid-sentence. It wasn't an arrest technique; it was pure, lethal payback. Her boot slammed into his gut.

Lang blacked out before he could even scream.

"Hayes!" Ryan shouted, rushing forward to restrain her.

"Are you nuts?" He yanked her arm, his voice a harsh whisper. "Violent enforcement charges? Does that ring a bell?"

She slapped the cuffs on an unconscious Lang, cool as ice. "Let him sue. I swung first."

Her confidence waned the moment Director Hale loomed over her in the interrogation room.

Hale, pushing sixty, ran the DA's office like a fortress. He was known for his "serve the people" speeches and his obsession with discipline. Instead of screaming, he was terrifyingly calm. He wasn't doing calligraphy—this wasn't a movie—he was simply cleaning his glasses, staring at her with storm-dark eyes.

"Majestic work, Hayes," he said, dripping with sarcasm.

Olivia stiffened. Every inch of her body screamed I'm right.

Hale put his glasses back on. "Shall I recap for the team? Prosecutor Hayes defies orders, goes rogue, and caps it off with police brutality on a high-profile target?"

Silence.

Then: "Harper Ellis. He ran her out of town."

Hale blinked. "So avenging her is noble?"

"I didn't call it noble."

Translation: It was revenge.

Hale slammed his hand on the table. "You love your vendettas? I should strip that badge right now! Brawling on a roof with a metal pipe? You dropped the ex-Deputy Mayor half-dead. His lawyers are going to have a field day. 'Violent enforcement' doesn't just torch you, Hayes—it burns this whole office to the ground."

He took a breath, reeling in his temper. "Self-criticism report. On my desk tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir."

She turned to leave, but Hale’s voice stopped her.

"Hayes."

"Yeah?"

His tone softened, shifting from boss to elder. "Don't lean on Ethan Caldwell's clout to run wild."

He knew who her fiancé was. Everyone did. "The day comes when his support dries up? Everyone you've burned will be waiting in line. Learn self-preservation. Got it?"

Olivia nodded once and walked out.

At seven sharp, a private jet from New York touched down in Denver. The insignia on the tail read: Caldwell Enterprises.