Riley’s hands shook as she zipped her uniform, the walls of her dorm closing tighter each day, each rumor. Her phone pinged; a flood of social media notifications flashed up—her modeling shots, outed at last, were everywhere. By breakfast, Beth murmured, “Didn’t know they trained supermodels here.” Riley forced a laugh, her cheeks burning, eyes scanning the room for Sasha and Elias. She found only Sasha’s cold stare, the kind that said she’d watched the world burn just to warm her hands.

At the morning briefing, Lt. Wilkins’s gaze lingered too long on Sasha, whose mouth was set in a flat line. When Riley looked for Elias, his eyes didn’t meet hers—until she brushed past him, and the brush of their arms was a jolt: raw, electric, impossible to hide. Later, in the hall, Sasha hissed, “You’re not the only one with secrets, Riley.” Before Riley could respond, Sasha was gone, muttering curses as she pushed past Beth, who rolled her eyes and whispered to Theo, “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the scandal.”

The day turned colder: summons for Riley to meet with the academy’s review board. The hearing was swift and brutal—photos splayed on a screen, instructors frowning. “Law enforcement requires integrity,” someone lectured. “Can you be taken seriously?” The old Riley would have apologized, shrunk into the corner. But today, with Elias’s gaze drilling into her back from the hallway, she raised her chin. “Integrity isn’t about what I look like,” she forced out. When the silence pressed in, her chest ached for air. The verdict: deferred. One more mistake and she was gone.

Elias found her in the deserted stairwell, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. “They want me to end this,” he whispered, voice sharp as shattered glass. “They think I’m…” His words trailed into silence. Riley reached for his hand, desperate. “Don’t do it,” she breathed. “Not because of them.” For a moment, he wavered, thumb tracing the inside of her wrist; she felt the shudder run through him. He pressed his forehead to hers. “If I don’t…” The ache in his voice cleaved her in two. He kissed her, hard, and the stairwell spun: for a precious second, it was just heat, need, oblivion.

Not far off, Sasha moved through the corridors, head pounding, heart split by jealousy and shame. Lt. Wilkins found her by the staff lounge, corners of his mouth tight. “We have to end it, Sasha. It’s over.” She blinked away the sting, fought to hold herself together. “You’ll regret this,” she spat. This time, he didn’t argue—he just left, leaving her with a single folded note and the echo of her own bitterness.

As evening fell, Riley and Elias slipped into the shadows of the supply closet, hands frantically tugging at uniforms, mouths colliding with a desperation that had nowhere else to go. Every kiss was edged with loss; every touch a plea not to let go. Elias’s hands were rough on her skin, his lips fierce on her throat. She clung to him, teeth grazing his jaw, her breath coming hard. “I need you,” she gasped, the words a confession and a dare.

Clothes pooled to the floor, heat building between them—Elias lifting her onto a metal shelf, her thighs tight around his waist. He groaned, pushing deep inside her, their bodies moving in a fevered, raw rhythm that left them shaking. He pressed his mouth to her collarbone as she arched, breathless, hands gripping his back. For a moment, nothing existed but the frantic, urgent pleasure, the fear tangled with longing, the ache of losing and finding each other with every thrust and cry.

After, they stayed tangled, breath mingling, sweat cooling. Riley pressed her face into his neck, unable to look away from what they’d done, what they might lose. “We won’t have another chance,” Elias said, voice wrecked. She traced his ribs, silent, then kissed him—slow, aching. “Then make this enough,” she whispered.

Meanwhile, Sasha’s rage shattered what was left of her hesitation. She slipped an envelope under the training office door, fingers numb. Inside: every message, every piece of evidence she’d kept on Wilkins—enough to ruin him. Enough to make sure no one forgot she could be dangerous, too.

The next morning, the news hit: Lt. Wilkins—suspended and under investigation. The academy was a live wire; students whispering, instructors pacing, authority suddenly paper-thin. Beth found Riley in the hall, eyes wide. “They’re saying you’ll both be out by Friday,” she said, voice soft. Riley laughed—a strangled sound, verging on tears. “It was worth it,” she said, even though her heart was splintering.

Elias packed his duffel in silence, badge gleaming on the dresser. He stared at the door as if hoping it would tell him what to do. The world had narrowed to this single moment: love or duty, both impossible, both costing everything. Down the hall, Riley waited, fingers twisted tight, breath caught between hope and dread.

Before he could move, rapid footsteps echoed—Sasha, face pale, eyes rimmed red. “You’re making a mistake,” she snapped at Elias. “You think you’re the hero? There are no heroes here. Just people with nothing left to lose.” She turned to Riley, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.” Then she was gone, leaving silence so heavy it threatened to crush them all.

Riley moved to the door, pulse pounding, the cliff’s edge beneath her feet. “What now?” she whispered.

A voice echoed across the hall: “He’s gone—they suspended Elias. He’s not coming back.”

Riley staggered against the wall as the floor seemed to fall away under her.

To be continued…