In the gritty streets of Chicago, Katie finds herself at a crossroads, torn between her tumultuous past and an uncertain future. Escaping an abusive relationship, she embarks on a journey of self-discovery, determined to carve out a new path for her...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
-
"Overseas, my unit and I, we always had a bounty on us," Jay reassures me, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance as we gather in the precinct the next day.
"Most gangs only pay ten G for a cop. If you're really worth a hundred, I should take you out myself, pay off a mortgage," Antonio quips, his tone light as he lightly punches my arm in jest.
"Try it," I joke back, a playful grin spreading across my face as we engage in the banter, exchanging mock blows and dodges.
"Coke dealer one time put a million-dollar tag on me and Voight," Alvin interjects, his voice carrying the weight of experience.
"What?" Adam's brow furrows, clearly taken aback by the staggering sum. "How'd you handle that?"
"Well, you dust yourself off, never go home the same way twice. Run red lights, if a car follows you through one, you chamber around and you handle business."
"All right," Adam nods, acknowledging the wisdom in Al's words, while I can't help but feel a shiver of unease at the thought of such dangers. Antonio catches my eye, offering a silent reassurance that I cling to.
"This is Billy Fagan," Voight emerges from his office, laying a photo on the wipe-board. "Small-time hood had ties to a local outfit. Organized crime found him seven hours ago." He puts up another photo, depicting a bloodied body against a wall. "They found a dollar bill pinned to his chest. Looked into the Serbians, the cartels, coming up empty."
"We taking this from organized crime because he was your poker buddy?" Erin probes, her tone skeptical.
Voight's glare is sharp, and he directs Erin into his office, shutting the door firmly behind them for a private conversation.
Antonio's phone interrupts the tense atmosphere, and he steps away to take the call. After a brief exchange, he approaches Voight's office, knocking softly before entering. "You know a Nick Marcello?" he inquires.
"Yeah, why?" Voight responds, his voice guarded.
"They just found his body," Antonio informs him, and we all move swiftly to head down to the cars, ready to respond to the latest crime scene.
A woman dressed in smart trousers and a blouse stands outside the house, tears falling down her face, as watches the flurry of activity around her. "Hank!" she calls out, her voice choked with grief, and Voight rushes over to her, offering a comforting embrace.
"I'm so sorry," he murmurs softly, his words a gentle balm for her pain. "You have to stay here, Trish," he continues, gently guiding her back as we make our way inside to assess the situation.
As we ascend to the roof, a somber mood hangs heavy in the air, accentuated by the drizzle that dampens everything it touches. Police officers peel back a black sheet, revealing the grim scene beneath—a man lies sprawled on the ground, his features marred beyond recognition by the brutality of gunshot wounds.
