Chapter 257 Wolves In Uniform

The fluorescent lights above flickered softly in the quiet corner of the precinct—the women’s dressing room. Unlike the main hall or interrogation sectors, this area remained mostly untouched throughout the day. With so few female officers, it was a near-deserted zone, especially this late into the evening. The only sound came from the slow drip of a leaky pipe near the far sink, echoing through the tiled chamber.

Chief Josh Michelle stood with his back to the mirror, one hand gripping his phone tightly to his ear, the other hand fidgeting at his belt as he spoke in a low, tense voice.

"There’s a complication."

The line crackled faintly, and then came the familiar deep, unhurried voice of Boss, smooth as velvet and cold as death. "What kind of complication?"

Josh swallowed hard. The dressing room felt unusually warm, like the air was thickening with pressure. "Ryan just got back. He didn’t make the arrest," he said tightly, glancing once toward the entrance to make sure he was still alone. "Liam’s with Lilith. And you know what that means—nobody’s laying a hand on him. Not with her standing between."

There was silence on the other end. Then, a low chuckle. Boss’s laugh wasn’t loud—it never was—but it curled through the speaker like a snake wrapping around Josh’s throat.

"You’ve had one job, Josh," Boss said slowly. "And now you’re telling me you’ve failed it."

Josh’s hand tightened on the phone. "It’s not that simple—"

Boss cut him off, his voice dropping to something soft and dangerous. "If Liam isn’t in cuffs tonight, then you can forget about promotions. Forget about commissioner. You’ll rot behind that desk until retirement like a washed-up traffic officer. Are we clear?"

Josh felt the first bead of sweat run down the side of his face. He wiped it with the sleeve of his uniform, nodding even though Boss couldn’t see him.

"O-Okay," he stammered. "I’ll do it. I’ll do everything in my power to bring him in tonight."

There was a pause on the other end, then Boss’s voice shifted, more composed now. "Good. According to my intel, Liam just left Lilith’s apartment. He’s not alone. Lana’s with him."

Josh blinked. "Lana? The model?"

"The same. I’m sending you their location now. You’ll handle the tracking... and the arrest."

Josh opened his mouth to respond, but the call had already ended. A moment later, a soft buzz vibrated in his hand. He looked down.

A new message. GPS coordinates. A live tracking link.

He tapped it open—and there it was. A glowing blue dot moving through downtown, indicating the current location of Liam and Lana. No more excuses. No more time to stall.

Josh clenched his jaw, his face now hardening into a stern expression. He glanced around the room, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement or witnesses.

Satisfied that he was alone, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned toward the exit. His footsteps echoed softly as he stepped toward the door.

But just as he exited the dressing room, the metallic creak of a locker opening broke the silence.

Vanessa Carter slowly stepped out, her expression frozen in shock.

She had been here the whole time.

Changing out of her patrol uniform when Josh barged in, still on his call. She hadn’t had time to speak or react—he didn’t even seem to notice her. Half-dressed and startled, she had instinctively slipped behind one of the tall steel lockers and stayed there.

At first, she thought it was just a private call. Then... she heard Liam’s name.

Then... she heard the rest.

Her heart was hammering against her ribs, her face pale with disbelief. Her lips parted slightly as the weight of everything she just heard settled on her like a storm cloud.

Ryan was sent to arrest Liam?

Liam... being accused of murder?

She shook her head, whispering under her breath. "No way... that’s insane."

But the pieces were already clicking into place. The tension in the precinct, the SWAT unit quietly being deployed earlier. Ryan’s sudden disappearance, and now his return with no arrest made. And most of all... Chief Josh’s desperation. His voice had been trembling.

They were trying to frame Liam.

Her fists clenched at her sides. She didn’t know who was behind it—yet—but she knew one thing for certain.

Josh was involved. And he was working with someone even more dangerous.

Boss.

She remembered the name. The man who ruled the Crimson Hand. She never thought he was working with their boss.

Vanessa’s mind raced.

She needed to move fast. Get to Ryan. Or Liam. Someone.

Because whatever was coming... Liam had no idea how close it was.

___

The city air was cool, with the hum of distant traffic and the soft rustle of trees lining the sidewalk. Neon lights danced across nearby windows, giving the street a lazy, colorful glow. Liam walked beside Lana, their steps in perfect rhythm, his left hand lightly gripping hers. She skipped forward with a carefree smile, playfully swinging their linked arms, oblivious to the shadows tracking them from a distance.

They were supposed to take a car. But Lana had tugged on his arm and insisted they walk instead. "We’ve been indoors too long," she said with a teasing grin. "Let’s stretch our legs."

Liam didn’t argue. But every fiber of his senses was sharp—on high alert. He felt them. The eyes. The quiet footsteps trying to mimic city noise. The slight pressure in the air, like predators watching from above.

They were being followed.

Lana had no idea.

She leaned closer to him, laughing at something she had just remembered. "And then the guy actually dropped his pants thinking it was a spa—"

A van screeched to a halt in front of them, cutting off the street. The side door slammed open violently.

Seven men in tactical gear jumped out. Their boots pounded against the pavement as they moved fast, rifles raised with lethal precision. Their faces were covered behind matte-black helmets and visors. Each one was armored from neck to toe, ex-police or ex-military by the look of their stances.

The leader stepped forward and barked, "Liam . Lana . Get in the van. Now."

Lana froze mid-step, her body tense, eyes wide. The playfulness in her face vanished as she instinctively turned and stepped in front of Liam, raising her arms protectively as if shielding him.

"Stay back!" she yelled at the armed men. "You don’t have the right!"

One of them stepped forward and swung the butt of his rifle toward her ribs, moving fast and hard.

He never made contact.

Liam’s hand shot up like lightning, catching the weapon mid-swing. The steel crumpled in his grip with a screech. The man didn’t even have time to react before Liam twisted, snapping the gun in two like a twig. Then his knee came up—brutal, fast—and cracked into the man’s jaw with bone-breaking force.

The attacker flew backward and slammed against the side of the van with a thud.

Liam didn’t wait.

The next second, he was moving like a phantom, blurring forward. A knife slashed at his throat from the right—he leaned back an inch and let it miss—then elbowed the attacker in the gut, grabbed the man’s wrist, and shattered his elbow with a sickening crunch. The knife clattered to the ground as the man screamed and fell.

Two more rushed in with stun batons crackling.

Liam ducked under the first swing, grabbed the attacker by the vest, and flung him into his teammate like a battering ram. The two tumbled across the pavement in a heap, groaning.

Another rifle fired.

The bullet zipped toward Liam’s head—but he moved his head to the side just enough. The round missed, slamming into a street sign.

Liam’s eyes locked on the shooter. He didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

He sprinted toward him.

The man had barely started to reload before Liam was already in his face. A savage punch to the throat dropped him instantly. Liam caught the man’s falling body and twisted it around just in time to block another attacker’s wild knife swing.

The blade sank into the armored vest of the man Liam was holding—and Liam shoved both men into the van.

The doors slammed shut behind them.

Three left.

Lana stood stunned nearby, watching Liam dance through chaos like a demon. Her lips parted slightly in awe. She always get tranced anytime she see him fight.

One of the last three tried to circle behind Liam, going low with a knife aimed for Liam’s kidney.

Liam caught the glint in his peripheral vision, turned, and stopped the blade with his bare hand.

Blood welled up in his palm—but he didn’t flinch.

Instead, he ripped the knife out of the man’s hand and stabbed him in the shoulder. The scream didn’t last long. Liam slammed his forehead into the man’s helmet with enough force to dent it, then dropped him like trash.

The final two hesitated.

Liam’s eyes rose to them, cold and dangerous. His aura expanded like a storm rolling in. Lana could feel it—heavy, suffocating, like gravity itself had shifted.

He was done playing.

"Still want to try?" he asked quietly.

One of them rushed him in panic, swinging a baton.

Liam ducked, kicked the man’s leg out from under him, then struck the side of his head with a brutal elbow. The man dropped instantly.

Only one remained.

The last soldier looked down at his trembling hands... and dropped his weapon.

Smart.

Liam walked forward slowly. The man backed away, tripping over his own feet, until he collapsed on the pavement. His eyes pleaded through the helmet.

"Go," Liam said coldly.

The man scrambled away, sprinting back into the alley and vanishing into the dark.

Silence returned.