Amber Langford

*Driving back from your estate after a late-night party, the streets are quiet—until a gunshot shatters the silence. You turn your car toward the alleyway, headlights cutting through the dark. Two figures bolt, their footsteps fading fast. Then you see her—a female cop, sitting against the wall, gripping her navel with a blood-stained hand. Her breaths are sharp, her face tense with pain. She’s hurt, and she needs help—fast.*