- Elias Carter:
There are exactly three things in this world that I hate more than violence:
Overcooked eggs.
That one guy in every office who claps when the plane lands.
And mornings.
Especially mornings that begin with a pillow colliding with my face.
"Get up!" Raine's voice echoed through the dim, cold room.
I groaned and rolled over, dragging the pillow over my head as a shield from both the light and her relentless assault.
"No."
Another pillow hit me. Where the hell was she even getting these?
"You have exactly ten seconds before I drag your blanket off and dump cold water on your big ass."
I peeled one eye open and squinted at her through the pillow's edge. Her uniform was already on—neat, pressed, and clean as always.
Her long hair was tied up in that same sleek ponytail she always wore on duty. She had that smug look on her face. The one that said I win. Again.
"I hate you."
She smirked. "You love me."
Unfortunately, she was right. But she didn't need to know that part.
I sat up with a dramatic sigh, letting the pillow drop to the floor. "You're like a caffeinated alarm clock. But louder."
"And more effective." She tossed my boots toward me. "Come on. You've got five minutes to make yourself look like someone vaguely responsible."
"I'm a cop," I muttered, dragging myself to the edge of the bed, "not a morning model."
She didn't answer. Just laughed and headed into the bathroom, her voice muffled behind the door as she called out, "Try not to fall asleep in the shower again!"
We both got ready in record time—her because she was fast, me because I was forced.
After splashing cold water on my face and brushing my teeth with a toothbrush that probably tasted faintly of prison tile disinfectant, I pulled on my uniform, ran a hand through my blond-streaked hair, and checked the mirror.
Still looked half asleep. But functional.
"Close enough," I muttered.
We met at the door. She had her badge clipped on, boots laced, and a cup of instant coffee in one hand that she somehow conjured from thin air.
I blinked at her. "You had time to make coffee?"
She raised a brow. "You had time to complain. Priorities."
Fair enough.
The mess hall wasn't far from the officers' quarters. The hallway was narrow and metallic, dimly lit by overhead fluorescents that flickered every few steps. Blackgate didn't believe in hospitality. Only function.
As we stepped inside, the scent of eggs, meat, and burnt toast filled the air. The clatter of trays and utensils was strangely comforting.
We grabbed our breakfast—scrambled eggs that were a little too dry, sausage links that might've been seasoned with regret, and coffee that could melt rust. Five stars.
We found a seat by the far wall. I sat across from Raine and pulled out my phone while chewing my first bite. It wasn't great, but it was hot and edible. That was enough.
She was already on a call. I could tell it was her mother by the way her voice softened.
"Yes, Mama, I'm eating. I swear… Mmhm. We'll be back Friday night, if everything goes well… Love you too."
She hung up and looked at me expectantly. "You calling your folks or what?"
I hesitated. I hadn't called them since we arrived. Mostly because I didn't want to explain the whole "We're stationed in Blackgate" thing to my mom.
But Raine gave me that look—the one that knew me better than I knew myself. So I sighed and tapped my dad's name on the screen.
He picked up after two rings.
"Elias," he said, voice rough from years of smoking. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, yeah. We're good," I replied, trying to sound more awake than I was. "New assignment. Temporary, just till the weekend."
"Where?"
I glanced at Raine.
"Blackgate."
There was a pause. Then: "That's one hell of a place to babysit."
"We're not babysitting," I said. "We're supervising… hopefully."
"Same thing, different badge." He grunted. "Stay sharp."
"Always do. Love you, old man."
"Don't call me that. Tell Raine I said hi."
"She heard you." I glanced at her and she smiled faintly.
After breakfast, we lingered. Not out of laziness, but because it gave us a chance to breathe. We were approached by two officers—both younger, recruits stationed here for the past month.
"Lieutenant Archer and Officer Carter, right?" the taller one asked.
"That's us," Raine replied, shaking his hand. "You're?"
"Richards. And this is Bhandari."
The shorter officer—Bhandari—nodded. "You're the ones who handled the Trident bust in District Four, right?"
Raine chuckled. "Guilty."
"Hell of a job," Richards said, sitting beside us. "Blackgate's buzzing ever since the new batch arrived. Word is some of the big names from Undercity are in there. Real monsters."
I frowned. "Monsters?"
He nodded. "The ones that don't blink when they kill. Rumor says one of them can manipulate shadows."
I shot Raine a look. We'd heard rumors like that before. We didn't believe them. But something in the air—maybe the way the guards moved a little faster, or how the warden's eyes lingered too long—made me wonder.
Before I could ask anything else, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Carter. Archer. With me."
Captain Denton.
He followed us here, great.
He stood at the entrance, arms crossed, that permanent scowl etched into his features like someone had chiseled it into his bones.
We stood immediately. The officers beside us tensed.
"You're cleared for prisoner observation," Denton said, walking away without waiting for a reply. "You'll be escorted to the monitoring wing. Follow."
I fell in beside Raine as we followed him down another hallway.
She glanced at me, lips tight, voice low. "Think we'll get to see them up close?"
"If we're unlucky," I murmured, fingers brushing against the badge clipped to my chest. "If not… I'd prefer just reading the files."
She nodded.
But something in her expression said we were about to see a lot more than just names on a page.
And I had a feeling nothing was going to be the same after we did.