Chapter 145: Shots Fired as Per the Protocol
"You can’t do this to me—you have no goddamn right holding me like common trash!" Elena yelled shrill and frantic.
Her manicured hands strapped down brutal tight to the cold steel interrogation table with heavy police handcuffs biting deep into her wrists raw red, gold designer bracelets jangling pathetic and futile against the unyielding metal.
Ivory sipped her black coffee slow and deliberate from a steaming white styrofoam cup just outside the one-way glass window—chili pheromones steady as rock calm—watching Elena thrash wild desperate like a trapped animal, her perfectly styled updo unravelling messy across her panicked, Botox-smooth face smeared with running makeup.
"Tom, double-confirm you killed the CCTVs dead—full blackout on all angles, looped feeds tight?" Ivory asked casual over her shoulder low, steam rising lazy from the cup’s rim as she blew across it soft.
"Yes, Captain—all cameras looped seamless and powered dark now, zero eyes or logs on us anywhere," Tom replied crisp professional, his tablet tucked secure under one arm, stance at attention by the door.
"Good work—now let’s step in for a proper, private chat with Elena. Make it count," Ivory said smooth and even, setting the half-empty cup down precise with a soft clink on the side table, wiping her mouth clean with the back of her hand.
"Captain, quick intel refresh if you need—she’s that flashy high-society omega always preening at elite parties and galas—real shadow mastermind greasing all Viktor’s dirty companies from the velvet ropes," Tom added low confidential, glancing quick through the glass at Elena’s hysterics.
"I’ve caught all the whispers floating about her little games over the years. But the first time getting eyes on her up close like this—looks like a pampered, empty-headed idiot, all fake gloss and zero real spine underneath," Ivory snorted dry amusement, straightening her uniform collar crisp.
"Did Viktor really escape custody that clean and slick—no trace left?" Tom pressed curious, shifting weight foot to foot.
"Yes straight—he slipped our hold like a ghost, smooth as oil. If my read’s spot-on, he’s already bolted the country far under a fresh name and papers, long gone by now," Ivory said blank-faced cool as ice, no single flicker or tell in her expression.
"Is that the official line we’re running then—sealed tight?" Tom echoed neutral, nodding slow.
"Yes—locked and official word from brass. No loose ends."
"Will you go in?"
"Yes, I will go in."
"Should I follow you?"
"After I enter, you will enter. Take some seconds to enter the room, okay?"
Ivory strode in deliberate and unhurried then, polished boots echoing sharp thud-thud on the scuffed tile floor.
She set her loaded service pistol down heavy deliberate on the table edge right in Elena’s line of sight with a solid metallic thud, barrel glinting ominous under the room’s harsh strip lights buzzing overhead.
Elena whipped instant pale as fresh death, eyes bulging huge full of animal terror, her lipstick-smeared mouth gaping wide in stuttered shock. "W-what the actual hell... a-are you even doing here... get away!"
Tom came in with a duct tape in his hands.
"Tom—slap that thick duct tape over her mouth shut tight. Keep this whole thing quick, clean, and on script—no mess," Ivory ordered flat and commanding.
Tom moved forward fast and efficient, ripping a long strip from the roll and slapping it brutal over Elena’s flailing protests—muffled shouts bubbling desperate and garbled from behind.
"Mmmph! Nnngh-mmph! Stmmph!"
Ivory racked her pistol slide smooth with a deadly click-click, pressing the cold muzzle firm and steady right to Elena’s temple—icy metal kissing sweat-damp skin as the omega froze statue-still rigid, fresh beads of sweat popping instant on her forehead and upper lip.
"I need you to sign these papers right here, right now—nice and legible, every single page no skips," Ivory murmured even and low, sliding the thick manila stack of forged confession docs under Elena’s trembling, cuffed hands like offering candy.
"Captain—what cases are we talking in this stack exactly?" Tom asked low from his post by the door, eyeing the bundle wary.
"Tom, these are our deepest cold files—high-profile unsolved cases just gathering thick dust forever, no culprits ever pinned solid. Time to close them all fast and pretty. Elena here steps up as our big hero, takes the fall perfect," Ivory explained casual like discussing lunch, tapping the top page expectant.
Elena’s eyes darted wild panicked all over, tears smearing her expensive mascara into thick black rivers streaking down her powdered cheeks pale.
"Now sign every last goddamn page full—or I paint this whole wall red with your spoiled brains splatter," Ivory murmured silk-smooth threat, her thumb stroking lazy slow circles on the trigger guard, eyes locked unblinking.
"Captain—what’s our exact full play moving forward here?" Tom probed careful neutral, hand resting loose on his holster.
"Nothing fancy or flashy, Tom—just stick tight to plan A from the jump, execute clean step-by-step."
"So, we’re doing this for real no backout? Ms. Elena—sign them quick while you still got breath, save us all the ugly mess."
"Come on now, pen’s sitting right there pretty—make it easy on yourself, scribble fast."
Elena shook head and body violent desperate but held stone-still frozen on the papers stack, choked sobs heaving muffled wet behind the tape seal.
"Elena, you’ve heard all the ugly street tales buzzing about me right over the years? I love these clean little encounters personal—cuts the bullshit, makes all that endless paperwork vanish easy every single time."
Crying wrenching silent tears flooding now, Elena snatched the black ballpoint pen up shaky frantic—scrawling wild, looping signatures across every damning confession doc page after page, framing her perfect for cold murders, corporate frauds, slow poisonings, embezzlements stacked high.
Another plainclothes cop slipped in quiet from the side door like shadow, sweeping the signed stack fast and efficient into a sealed evidence folder stamped official.
"Tom—release her full now, cuffs off everything," Ivory commanded crisp authority ringing.
Tom moved quick compliant—uncuffing both wrists with clicks, red angry welts blooming instant as Elena rubbed them frantic raw, duct tape still gagging tight over her mouth.
"Captain—does she head straight to jail lockdown after signing clean?" Tom asked practical forward, stepping back neutral.
"No—executed after she gets sentenced to death as per protocol," Ivory replied flat as arctic ice, voice not rising a decibel.
Ivory set the pistol back deliberate casual on the table edge gleaming—Elena lunged wild animal desperate, ripping the duct tape free savage with a sticky rrrrrip and yell raw as she snatched the gun up trembling white-knuckled, barrel swinging shaky straight at Ivory’s calm chest dead-centre.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH CUNT! I’LL KILL YOU RIGHT FUCKING HERE—BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!"
Ivory raised her arms slow and casual mocking surrender, palms open wide empty—chili scent unflared steady rock-solid, face bored almost.
Crack-bang—sudden gunshot ripped the air deafening from behind Elena’s blind spot; her head snapped back violent in a red bloody mist spray, eyes rolling dead white as her body crumpled heavy to the floor in a twitching, leaking heap.
Tom asked, "Captain, are you alright?"
Ivory smirked faintly as she was internally satisfied as backup cops burst in full force boots thumping chaos, radios crackling urgent static—faces locked blank professional neutral, holsters snapping shut seamless.
"All clear—suspect resisted, shots fired as per protocol," one barked into dispatch while Tom nodded confirmation silent, scene already shifting to clean-up mode tight.
