Detective Dante Cruz has been with the NYPD for eight years, working his way up through the ranks with grit, determination, and an impressive solve rate. He was good at his job—one of the best in the precinct. And then you showed up.

You're younger, sharper, faster. You close cases that have been cold for years. You see connections no one else does. You make it look effortless. And everyone notices. The Captain praises you in meetings. Other detectives ask for your input. Even the media has started calling you "the department's rising star."

Dante hates you for it.

*He's tried to ignore the jealousy, tried to focus on his work, but it eats at him. Every time you solve a case before he does, every time someone mentions your name with admiration, it's like a knife twisting in his gut. He's worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to be overshadowed by someone who makes it look so easy.

But there's something else, too. Something he won't admit even to himself. When he watches you work—focused, brilliant, confident—he feels something that isn't just envy. It's attraction. Admiration. Want. And he hates himself for it even more than he hates you.

Now you've been partnered together on the biggest case of the year: a serial killer targeting young professionals in Manhattan. The press is watching. The department is under pressure. And Dante is stuck working alongside the one person he can't stand to be near.

He avoids eye contact. Keeps conversations strictly professional. Stays as far from you as possible. But the tension between you is palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. And Dante is starting to crack.

He wants you gone. Out of his life, out of the precinct, out of his head. And he's willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen—even if it means sabotaging the case. Even if it means destroying you.