How do you choose? Do you follow their lead and play along with corruption, or stick to your principles and risk everything?
Jack stood there, caught in the middle, while Harris had already raised his gun.
Then Jack's phone rang.
Harris sneered and motioned for one of his men to bring it over. The moment he saw the caller ID, his expression shifted.
— Luca Greco
It was just a phone call. Luca wasn't even here, yet Harris was already sweating.
Damn it. Why now?
He lowered his gun and shoved the phone into Jack's hand. "Answer it. Put it on speaker. Now."
Jack hit accept and switched on speaker mode.
Luca's voice came through, warm and almost annoyingly upbeat. "Officer Hoyt, how was your first day in narcotics? I've got a small favor to ask. I need to transfer the plates and ownership on two cars in my garage—some paperwork. Think you can help me out?"
That voice cut through the tension like sunlight breaking into a dark room.
Jack knew, right then and there, he wasn't dying today.
No way Harris would touch him now.
"This shouldn't be a problem, Mr. Greco," Jack replied, steadying himself. "Already picked up the new car?"
"Yeah. A GTR. Just got delivered." Luca sounded as casual as a neighbor chatting over a fence. "Officer Hoyt, are you free tonight? I'd like to have you over for dinner."
In the past, Jack would've turned down a mob boss without a second thought.
Now? That mob boss was the only reason he was still breathing.
"What time?" Jack asked without hesitation. "I'll come by after my shift."
"I'll be waiting in Beverly Hills. Eight o'clock."
A small agreement, sealed over speakerphone.
Jack could only hope Harris would take the hint and back off. Worst case, he'd quit. Walk away from narcotics entirely.
Because once Jack participate on what Harris doing … the whole profession started to feel rotten.
Harris, meanwhile, was stuck.
He'd misread Jack completely.
At first, he thought the kid had connections—maybe even ties to the Mafia. The kind of guy you could work with. Mold. Bring into the fold. Hell, he'd even considered using Jack to get closer to Luca.
That would've been the perfect outcome.
They'd already thrown money at him—first day on the job. That was generosity, wasn't it?
And yet…
Jack didn't bite.
Didn't take the money. Didn't play along. Didn't even pretend.
Didn't do drugs. Didn't fake reports. Didn't cooperate.
A "clean" cop like that?
Unreliable.
Dangerous.
What if he talked?
But killing him now? After Luca personally called?
Why would someone like Luca Greco care about a rookie cop?
Harris was trapped in his own mess.
"Jack… listen," he said finally, lowering the Ghost Gun. "I don't want to make things hard for you. But don't make things hard for me either. I need this money. Bad. If I don't get it, I'm dead. I've got four kids—they need their father."
Jack stared at him.
Was this real?
Or just another act?
The switch in tone was so fast it was almost impressive.
But after less than a day, Jack had already seen through him.
This guy wasn't a cop.
He was a coward in a badge—Punching down and sucking up.
And somehow still dreaming of being a wolf.
"You caused all of this!" Jack snapped. "From the start, you've been fucking with me—talking shit about my wife, forcing me to smoke weed, and just now you tried to make me kill someone? Fuck you! I'm a cop, not some thug who robs and murders!"
Harris actually laughed.
"Our rookie's got guts," he said. "Funny thing is… I used to be just like you."
"Don't you dare drag the word 'police' down with you."
What changed me?
Harris muttered to himself, then gave a bitter chuckle.
"Fine. I'm done arguing. One condition—just one. Do what I say today."
He shrugged.
"You don't want the credit for killing a dealer? No problem. Plenty of guys would kill for that kind of credit—literally. I'll put their names on it instead. All you have to do is sign my report."
He looked Jack dead in the eye.
"That's it. Agree, and you walk out of here."
Jack hesitated.
He looked around—at the hostile faces, the guns, the reality closing in on him.
Then he thought about living.
"…Fine," he said at last. "I agree."
Harris let out a long breath.
Good.
At least the kid wasn't completely suicidal.
Right then, sirens wailed outside.
The operation had been approved. Cleanup crew incoming.
Before Jack left, Harris shoved a bag of cash into his arms.
"Spend it or burn it, I don't care. But you're taking it."
Jack knew exactly what it was.
Hush money.
He'd already agreed to sign. Taking the cash didn't really change anything now.
So he took it.
And as he stepped outside into the bright sunlight, it still felt like a storm was coming.
That night, Jack arrived in Beverly Hills with a heavy heart.
Dinner with Luca and his sister was… surprisingly normal.
Jack kept to himself at first, but thankfully, Luca didn't push anything uncomfortable. They talked about the cars, then drifted into the day's training assessment.
"Did you pass?" Luca asked.
Jack gave a dry smile. "Nope. Failed."
"That doesn't sound right. Harris being too strict?"
"No… it's me," Jack said, shaking his head. "I don't think narcotics is my thing"
Or maybe…
Being a cop isn't his thing at all.
That thought lingered.
The higher-ups were tied to people like Harris. Which meant the rot went all the way up.
So what was the point?
Across the table, Luca could see the struggle written all over his face.
He'd seen this before.
Denham had gone through something similar—but Denham had years in the FBI. He knew how the world worked.
Jack?
He is still green.
Too green.
He just needed to see more.
At the same time, Harris was enjoying himself at his mistress's place, blowing through cash and pretending everything was fine.
When the time came, he went to meet the Russian.
Then—
Gunfire exploded.
Before Harris could react, a masked man armed with an automatic weapon stormed in.
"Harris. Time's up."
The accent was unmistakable.
Russian.
Harris's face went pale. He raised his hands immediately.
"I've got the money! I already prepared it!"
"Too late," the man said coldly. "Someone wants you dead."
Gunfire ripped through the room.
Blood sprayed.
Harris dropped.
The Russian crews didn't complicate things.
If bullets could solve it, bullets would solve it.
And if they couldn't?
That just meant you needed more bullets.
[Ding! You instigated the Russians to eliminate a corrupt narcotics officer, maintaining balance between the underworld and lawful society.]
[Skill Points +10]
[Skill Fragments +5]
Luca glanced away from the notification panel.
There was another message above it—credit for helping Jack earlier that day.
Not bad.
"So," Luca said, setting down his glass, "what's next for you? Staying in patrol?"
Jack sighed. "Yeah… starting as a patrol officer. Maybe that's all I'm good for. Dealing with street punks. Drug cases aren't for me."
"Why not?"
Jack hesitated, then asked instead, "Mr. Greco… what do you think of the police?"
Luca chuckled.
What did he think?
Simple.
Those who follow him thrive. Those who don't… don't.
But he didn't say that.
"An old man once told me," Luca said, "that cops and criminals are just playing cat and mouse. Everyone has their own rules. The police catch thieves—but they can't break the rules to do it."
He leaned back slightly.
"You can't pin crimes on someone just to close a case. You can't turn a thief into a murderer just because it's convenient. If he stole something, then that's his crime—nothing more."
Jack frowned. "That's not how things work in real life."
"Of course it isn't," Luca said lightly.
Jack shook his head. Just like earlier that day—the informant hadn't done anything worth dying for, yet Harris framed him and killed him anyway.
"That's why," Luca continued, "we prefer cops who actually follow the rules."
He didn't elaborate on what "rules" really meant.
Jack, however, felt something strange.
Luca didn't feel like the others.
Strip away the title, and he was just… a well-mannered young man. Calm. Reasonable. Even likable.
There was no visible cruelty. No obvious malice.
If anything, he felt… trustworthy.
Which made absolutely no sense.
They'd only met a handful of times.
And yet…
Jack trusted him.
The two clinked glasses.
The tension slowly melted away under Luca's easygoing presence.
"Mr. Greco," Jack said, "thanks for the call earlier. And… dinner was great."
Luca smiled it off.
"I'll need your help with the truck robberies," he said casually. "I'll pass along any leads I get. If narcotics isn't your thing, you could try transferring to Major Crimes. Vincent's a solid detective."
Vincent?
Jack blinked.
Luca continued, "This case might help you establish yourself there."
Jack's heart skipped.
If Luca backed him…
He actually had a shot.
But that meant working with the mob.
Luca raised an eyebrow. "I'm just doing what a union president should—protecting my drivers' interests. And you, Officer Hoyt? You're helping catch the people robbing them. Sounds like your job to me."
Right.
From that angle… it made perfect sense.
Jack felt something click.
After everything he'd seen today, he finally understood.
Being a cop wasn't about being a sheep.
Nor was it about becoming a wolf.
It was about being a sheepdog.
Protecting the flock.
Driving away the wolves.
"I've got a lead," Luca added. "There's a high-speed race coming up. Those robbery crews are likely to show. You might find what you're looking for there."
Jack straightened. "That's huge. Thank you, Mr. Greco."
"Happy to cooperate."
Jack looked at him, then reached out.
They shook hands.
[Bond: Friends]
[New Skill Unlocked "Justice Principles"]
Luca immediately spent the fragments to buy.
With that extra trust boost, Jack found himself liking Luca more and more.
Luca walked him to the door and watched him leave.
"Young guys are easy," Luca murmured with a faint smile. "With that much trust stacked up, when he meets Vincent… yeah, that should go smoothly."
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