Chapter 28: Duty Calls

February 7, 1994, 7:45 PM

The echoes of our latest depraved night at the ranch still lingered in my bones, a sick symphony of forbidden hunger that had temporarily drowned the dread of Armando Leon’s lingerin’ shadow over Lubbock. As sheriff, I’d clawed my way through his network—Kevin for fencin’ stolen goods from the casino heist, Rico for Laura Simmons’ brutal assault, Chief Daniels for corruption, and just recently, Ricky “Sticky Fingers” Malone for a burglary tied to the remnants of Leon’s ops. Leon himself had been caged since that bloody raid I led weeks back, his ass locked behind bars after a brutal clash in a warehouse, bullets flyin’ and blood soakin’ the floor as we dragged him out in chains, but each bust confirmed his empire’s reach still festered, with judges, councilmen, and half the damn town tied to his dirty money through loyal lieutenants and hidden players who’d stepped up in his absence. I’d pushed Ricky hard in interrogation that mornin’, hours of grindin’ him down in a stale, sweat-soaked room at the station, but he hadn’t flipped yet, his smirk a taunt that the protection of Leon’s leftover network was ironclad. Every delay gnawed at me—Laura’s justice remained incomplete, her pain a scar on my conscience even with Leon caught, as his tendrils kept her case from closin’ fully, and the fear of failin’ her again, of failin’ Martin and my baby girl Libra, tore at me sharper than any blade. Could I dismantle what was left of Leon’s machine before it came for us, or was I just stackin’ sins until they buried everyone I cared about—Martin, Libra, Gemini, Aries, Taurus, Pisces, and Aquarius?

Just as the last echoes of our twisted night faded into the soft darkness of the new evenin’, my radio crackled to life, its static slicin’ through the quiet of the ranch house like a knife. The sheriff’s office was reportin’ a house invasion on the other end of town, the voice on the line tense, urgency clear in every clipped word. I glanced at Zoe, sprawled beside me on the worn-out couch, her uniform half-on after a quick change, eyes meetin’ mine in a silent acknowledgment of duty that transcended our personal hell. The babies were safe in the hidden nursery with Clara, Margaret, and Evelyn, the nurses bound by silence and paychecks—Libra, Gemini, Aries, Taurus, Pisces, and Aquarius tucked away from this chaos—and Martin was in his room, sketchin’ or sleepin’ off the night’s excess—safe for now, but for how long if Leon’s old goons got wind of this call and traced it back to the ranch?

Reluctantly, we disentangled ourselves from the warmth of our shadowed aftermath, the reality of our responsibilities pullin’ us back into the roles we were expected to fulfill outside these walls. I tugged on my uniform jacket over my tight shirt, badge clippin’ onto my belt with a cold, heavy weight, the fabric of my skirt ridin’ up as I moved, a reminder of the bare vulnerability beneath—no undergarments, a reckless habit born of thrill, now a liability if shit went south tonight, the cool air brushin’ against my exposed skin a sharp edge of risk. Zoe adjusted her own gear, holsterin’ her gun, her jaw tight with the same tension I felt. We quickly dressed fully, the transition from our primal selves to our professional personas jarrin’ as hell, the weight of our badges clashin’ with the ghosts of the night—sweat and cum still lingerin’ in my mind, now buried under navy fabric and duty. The house behind us, a haven of twisted secrets, now just a backdrop for our departure as we stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast couldn’t have been more pronounced, my heart racin’ not just for the call but for the fear of leavin’ my family exposed.