The break-room''s dim mage-light buzzed unevenly above the old tiled floor, flickering in time with Isabella’s ragged thoughts. She sat hunched over the break-room''s table, fingers curled around a chipped mug of cold coffee, its stale bitterness clinging to the air like the fog outside. Rain streaked the small window, blurring the city’s glow into fractured neon ribbons.
"You look like you’re thinking too hard, Doc." Evelyn’s voice slid through the quiet, low and wry.
Isabella flinched, her hand tightening around the mug as she glanced up. Evelyn leaned in the doorway, her dark coat draped casually over one shoulder. The detective’s gaze was steady, assessing, a cigarette dangling loosely between her fingers.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Isabella exhaled, letting her shoulders relax. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Perks of the job.” Evelyn moved inside, her boots soft against the floor, her presence filling the small room.
“Didn’t mean to spook you, Doctor Hartley. You just looked... stranded.”
Isabella managed a weak laugh, though her fingers refused to leave the mug. “I was just—thinking. Too much caffeine, I guess.”
Evelyn stepped closer, her expression unreadable but not unkind. She flicked the cigarette against her thumb and offered it to Isabella.“You look like you could use one.”
Isabella shook her head quickly, her chestnut waves swaying. "No, thank you. I don’t smoke."
“Good habit to have.” Evelyn slid the cigarette back into its pack, tucking it into her pocket. She pulled out the chair across from Isabella, the scrape of wood on tile loud in the quiet room. "Coffee’s dead, by the way."
Isabella glanced down at the cup in her hands, as if seeing it for the first time. A faint blush touched her cheeks. "I’m not really drinking it."
"No kidding," Evelyn said, leaning forward onto her elbows. “I get it, though. Brain won’t shut off. The rain doesn’t help.”
“It’s not just the rain. It’s everything. I don’t know how to keep all of this... bottled up.”
Evelyn’s brow lifted, but she didn’t interrupt. Her silence pressed Isabella forward like a nudge, patient and inevitable.
“I can’t stop thinking about what we found last night. It could change everything, Evelyn. And yet you want me to sit on it, pretend it doesn’t exist?” Isabella’s voice wavered, but her green eyes lifted, resolute. “That’s not who I am.”
Evelyn leaned back, exhaling slowly through her nose. Her fingers drummed against the table once before stilling. “I’m not asking you to bury it forever, Hartley. Just long enough for me to figure out who’s listening when they shouldn’t be. You’re not the only one this matters to.”
“That doesn’t make it easier,” Isabella muttered, her hand pulling away from the mug to rest against the table.
“No,” Evelyn agreed quietly, her sharp green eyes softening at the edges. “It doesn’t. But if we’re not careful, this could end up in the wrong hands faster than you can say ‘patent pending.’ And then what? You want someone turning your algae into a weapon?”
Isabella’s mouth opened, then closed again, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"Didn’t think so," Evelyn said, her voice dipping just enough to ease the edge, though it carried the grit of someone used to hard truths. She leaned her elbow on the table, her fingers reaching for the phantom cigarette she wasn’t smoking. “Look, you’re smart. I know you get it. But you’re also... you. Empathy’s a hell of a burden to carry, Doctor Hartley. Don’t let it crush you before we even get to the finish line.”
The rain outside swelled, a symphony of drops striking the glass like a relentless percussion section. Isabella’s eyes drifted to Evelyn’s hand, lingering on the absent cigarette as though it might offer some kind of answer. The room felt heavier with each unspoken word, the faint scent of damp earth and saltwater clinging to the air between them.
“It’s not that simple,” Isabella murmured after a beat, her voice a low hum. “I’ll wait. I’ll do it your way. But this... it doesn’t sit right with me, Evelyn. Not one bit.”
Evelyn tilted her head, the sharp curve of her smirk softening into something more wry than biting. The low lamplight caught the green in her eyes, turning them into something deeper, like forest shadows stirred by the wind.
“Good,” she said, voice carrying a rare flicker of warmth. “If it did, I’d be worried about you.”
She rose, moving toward the coffee pot, her presence commanding the room without trying. “Want me to warm that coffee up before it starts growing legs?”
Isabella almost smiled. Almost. The weight pressing against her chest stayed firm, but the edges softened just enough to let her nod. Evelyn’s silhouette against the rain-streaked window caught her attention, and for a moment, she felt the faintest tug, a connection both unsettling and grounding.
"Call me Isabella," she started and Evelyn turned to look at her. "You gave me your first name. It was rude of me not to give you mine." She finished and after a brief pause, Evelyn nodded and turned back towards the coffee pot.
The silence that followed was thick, awkward. Isabella’s fingers traced idle patterns on the table’s surface, the motions betraying the jumble of thoughts rattling around her head.
"My father," she began, her voice hesitant, "used to say that the ocean was the world’s lungs. That if you took care of it, everything else would fall into place." She glanced up, meeting Evelyn’s gaze who was now leaning with her arms crossed against the single kitchen counter where the coffee machine rested. Evelyn''s emerald eyes glinted with an intensity that felt almost out of place in the dim room as she stared softly back at Isabella.
"He wanted to see clean oceans again. Thriving coral reefs, unbroken ecosystems." She continued.
Evelyn’s mouth quirked slightly at one corner, her version of a smile. "Sounds like an optimist. Must run in the family."
"He was," Isabella said, her tone softening. She smiled faintly, though it was tinged with something sadder.
"He’d be heartbroken to see what we’ve done to it now. But he always believed there was a way to fix things, even if it seemed impossible. That’s why I took this job."
Evelyn tilted her head, considering her. "Guess he’d be proud, then."
Isabella’s hand stilled on the table. She blinked, surprised by the detective’s remark. Before she could reply Evelyn placed Isabella''s coffee back on the table, steam now rising from the coffee''s surface.
"Listen, about earlier," Evelyn said, taking her seat again, her voice losing its usual sardonic edge. "I might’ve come off... harsh. This isn’t easy for you. I get that. And I know I’m asking you to keep quiet when it goes against everything you believe in. But it’s the right call right now."
Isabella’s gaze dropped to her hands. She turned Evelyn’s words over in her mind, weighing them.
"I understand why you said it," she finally replied, lifting her eyes to meet Evelyn’s. "And I agree. The people who killed my coworkers need to face justice. I want to trust you, Detective."
Evelyn’s sharp green eyes held Isabella’s for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, like smoke curling in the dim light.
“I read about your arrest,” she said finally, her tone as flat and unflinching as a page in a case file. “Chaining yourself to an oil rig. Bold move, Isabella.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, the kind that felt like a dare.
Isabella blinked, then let out a breath of laughter, the sound warmer than she intended. “You say that like it wasn’t terrifying. I spent most of the time hoping I wouldn’t get blown off by the wind—or the lawyers.” Her lips curved in a small, self-deprecating smile, but there was a gleam in her eye now, as if Evelyn’s presence had steadied something wavering inside her.
“Bold’s not so bad, though. Guess it’s how we get things done.”Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
“It wasn’t bold. It was desperate. The rig was dumping chemicals into the ocean. Someone had to do something.” She turned back to her coffee, stirring with deliberate care.
“Not that it mattered in the end. They didn’t stop.” She continued.
“But you made others listen,” Evelyn countered, crossing her arms. “That takes guts. Damned if anyone else thought so.”
Isabella set her mug down with a soft thud. “What’s your point, Detective? If this is earlier? I—”
Evelyn cut her off with a subtle shake of her head. “Not about that. Just saying I get it. You’ve got this fire to do what’s right, no matter who it pisses off. I wasn''t like that in my past. I followed the book, followed protocol. Was all ''yes sir!'' or ''right away Ma''am!''”
The words hung in the air, their weight unspoken but felt. Isabella’s brows knitted together as she turned to face Evelyn fully.
“What changed?” she asked softly.
“A lot of people got hurt,” Evelyn said at last, her voice calm, measured, like a stone skipping across the surface of something much deeper. A long silence stretched between them, the only sound was the faint hum of the fridge by the coffee machine and the uneven tapping of rain against the window. Evelyn’s gaze remained fixed on the mage-light, though she could feel the weight of Isabella’s concern without needing to look.
“But it also saved lives,” Evelyn added after a beat, a trace of weariness softening her words. Her eyes flicked back, catching Isabella’s for the briefest of moments, sharp green meeting gentle emerald. “More than I’ll ever know, probably.”
Isabella didn’t respond right away. She cradled her mug in both hands, her thumb running absently along its chipped rim as she searched for the right words. When she finally spoke, her voice was low but unwavering, each word measured like steps on uneven ground.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, her gaze lifting briefly to meet Evelyn’s again before drifting back to the mug. “If you’d rather not. It’s just… it seems like it’s still with you. Whatever it is.”
Evelyn leaned back, the cigarette sliding from its packet like a reflex, her fingers deft and practiced. She rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, letting the familiar paper settle against her lips. The scratch of the match was quick, the flame alive and eager. Tilting it toward the cigarette’s tip, she paused just before the fire kissed the tobacco. Her gaze lifted, catching the furrowed brow expression on Isabella''s face.
Evelyn’s sharp green eyes lingered on Isabella for a beat too long—sharp at first, like glass catching sunlight, before something softened in the edges. She hesitated, the flame guttering out as her lips drew into a thin line. With a muted sigh, she pulled the cigarette away, dropping it to her lap like she wasn’t quite ready to give it up.
“You sure you want to hear this?” Evelyn asked, her tone even but edged with warning.
“I am,” Isabella said. Her hands tightened briefly around the mug. “But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Evelyn let the words hang in the air. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her fingers laced loosely together. For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of the mage-light above them.
“It was a raid,” Evelyn began, her voice clipped but steady. “Four years ago, in Dagger’s Hollow. Nasty part of town—muggers, black-market dealers, and folks who’d slit your throat for a half-spent coin.”
She paused, the corners of her mouth tightening.
“We had intel that a smuggling ring was moving enchanted weaponry. Dangerous stuff—enough to arm a small war. The kind of weapons that don’t just kill you but leave a mess no one can clean up.” Evelyn’s voice flattened, her tone clinical, detached. “Our orders were clear: get the weapons, secure the warehouse, and minimize casualties.”
Isabella’s brows furrowed. “Minimize casualties,” she repeated softly.
“Yeah,” Evelyn said, her lips twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Turns out, ‘minimize’ is a pretty flexible word.”
Her eyes drifted to the chipped edge of her own mug. “The plan went to hell almost immediately. One of our undercover guys got made, and the smugglers panicked. They started using the weapons on us. On civilians.”
She stopped, pressing her palms against the edge of the table. Her knuckles whitened. “We had two choices: stick to the protocol or neutralize the threat.”
“What did you do?” Isabella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“The book was clear,” she began, her voice low, roughened by memory. “Get safe. Wait for the people who get paid to charge headfirst into the kind of magic that could flatten a city block. Our job was simple—get as many civilians to safety as we could.”
She paused, letting the words hang there like smoke curling into the air. Isabella looked up, sad, knowing, curiosity flickering in her eyes but saying nothing as she gave Evelyn the space to find her rhythm.
“We had the chance to stop it, you know,” Evelyn said, her tone sharpening. “The team I was with—we hadn’t been spotted yet. We had the element of surprise. But command wanted protocol. Sit tight. Hold position. Wait for backup. So we just... sat there, listening.”
"Listening?"
Her jaw clenched, and she drummed her fingers on the table, once, twice, before curling her hand into a fist. “Screams. Explosions. Everything we could’ve stopped if we’d just moved.”
“What changed?” Isabella’s voice was soft, the kind of tone you’d use to coax a wounded animal into trusting you. Evelyn shot her a look, half a warning, half a thank-you for not interrupting sooner.
“They hit Kate.” The name fell from her lips like a stone sinking into deep water. “She was across from me. We’d been together for over two years, partners in this mess. Since the academy. I saw her face, just before the spell hit. Fear. The kind you don’t forget. One second she was there, and the next...” Evelyn opened her fist, palm up, staring at it as though the memory might crawl out and take shape. “Gone. Nothing left but a flash of purple and blue.”
The cigarette slipped off her lap, hitting the floor with a dull thud. She ignored it, her voice dropping to a rasp.
“By the time I stopped seeing red, I was sitting in a jail cell at the station. Magic collar around my neck, back covered in burns. They told me I almost killed almost every single one of those bastards!” Her hand drifted to the side of her neck, brushing over the phantom weight of that collar.
“Apparently, I jumped in front of a fire spell to protect someone—I don’t even remember who. But that’s what finally took me down.” She exhaled sharply, like she’d been holding her breath through the whole thing, and looked at Isabella.
Silence lingered, broken only by the low hum of the fridge and the soft, irregular patter of rain dripping against the window. Evelyn leaned back in her chair, the wood groaning softly, her fingers curling reflexively before falling slack against the table beside her coffee cup. Evelyn’s green eyes flicked to Isabella, who stared out the rain-slicked glass, her profile outlined in dim light, a strand of chestnut hair clinging unnoticed to her cheek. Isabella’s hands tightened around her mug, her knuckles paling against the ceramic. Her gaze dipped briefly, then lifted to meet Evelyn’s with quiet intensity.
“You think I’ll hurt people?” Her words were calm, deliberate, yet her voice carried the slight tremor of someone who wasn’t sure whether she was ready for the answer.
“I think you already have,” Evelyn replied bluntly. “Not intentionally. But standing up for what you believe in? That kind of determination leaves collateral damage. It’s inevitable. The trick is deciding whether the hurt you cause is worth the good you’re trying to do.”
Isabella sipped her coffee, thankful for its warmth, her gaze unfocused. Finally, she said, “There are rules for a reason. Processes. They’re supposed to protect people.”
Evelyn snorted softly. “Sure. But what happens when the rules are more about keeping things neat than fixing what’s broken? When people with all the power to make a difference are too tied up in red tape to act?” She leaned forward, her voice dropping just enough to make Isabella’s spine straighten. “Sometimes, the only way to help is to break a few rules. Maybe even a few bones, if it comes to that.”
Isabella’s eyes widened, but Evelyn held up a hand, smirking faintly. “Figure of speech, Doctor. Relax.”
A faint smile tugged at Isabella’s lips despite herself.
“That’s why you work alone, isn’t it?” she said after a moment. “No one to slow you down.”
“And no one to stop me from doing something stupid, either,” she admitted. “But sometimes stupid is what gets the job done.”
“I don’t think I could live like that,” Isabella said, shaking her head. “I need to know I’m doing things the right way. Otherwise, how do you know if you’re any better than the people you’re fighting against?”
“You don’t,” Evelyn said simply. “You just keep moving. Keep choosing. Sometimes you’re the hero. Sometimes you’re the villain. But you don’t stop, because stopping means everyone else loses.”
Isabella stared into her coffee, her fingers curled loosely around the mug as the weight of Evelyn''s words settled over her. The silence between them thickened, broken only by the faint shuffle of footsteps and the distant murmur of conversation seeping through the corridor walls. The mage-lights flickered again, their unsteady glow scattering shadows like restless ghosts across the room.
“Do you ever regret it?” Isabella asked softly, her gaze still fixed on the rippling surface of her coffee. “The lives that were hurt?”
Evelyn didn’t answer right away. Her green eyes narrowed slightly, the faint tension in her jaw betraying the thought she gave the question. She finally exhaled a long, measured breath, her lips tugging into a hard, quiet line.
“Every damn day,” she said, her voice low and steady, each word landing like a stone in the quiet. “But I’d regret doing nothing even more.”
Isabella nodded, her fingertips trailing absent patterns along the rim of her mug. The holiday tune crackling faintly from a radio somewhere down the hall felt almost cruelly out of place, its cheerfulness at odds with the quiet weight of their conversation. She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at Evelyn, her expression thoughtful.
“Maybe there’s a middle ground,” she murmured, the words more to herself than to Evelyn. “Something between rules and recklessness.”
Evelyn’s lips twitched, just barely. A faint, fleeting smile softened the edge of her features.
“Maybe,” she said, her tone carrying a note of almost reluctant hope. “But finding it? That’s the trick.” A shadow on her upturned palm rippled like water before the cigarette from the floor bobbed up and out of it. It floated on top of the shadowy waves in her palm.
Isabella leaned back slightly, a small, lopsided smile breaking through her contemplative expression. “You’re a tough one to figure out, you know that?”
Evelyn’s brow quirked, her voice cutting through the dim with a dry, sardonic edge. “Good. Keeps things interesting.”
Their laughter was soft, subdued, but it lingered in the air between them, chasing away the weight of the moment like smoke dissolving into the night. And though the mage-lights flickered once more, casting them back into an uncertain half-darkness, the silence that followed felt lighter, easier—like the start of a truce neither of them had realized they needed.