In the middle of the night, he had a spring dream. Though the dream left no trace, his spirit felt unsettled, as if it had not fully rested.
Diamond Hawthorne, with little appetite for breakfast, pushed his bike out early to head to work.
No one could have expected that the man once hailed as the "Rose of the Special Forces" would now settle into the role of a traffic cop in a quiet district.
Hoping to distance himself from that dramatic past, he imagined that, with time, he might finally shake free of the woman's lingering poison—poison that had sunk deep into his bones.
Traffic duty wasn't easy, though his beat was peaceful. He passed a calm morning, and just after his shift ended, he noticed a military vehicle approaching, pulling up beside him.
The window rolled down, and a familiar voice, tinged with surprise, called out, "Ed... Edmund?"
Diamond's heart skipped a beat. That name was his alias from his undercover days, known only to old friends.
Sure enough, inside the vehicle was Reginald Falmouth.
The man who had once delivered the decisive blow to Arabella, earning himself high accolades, likely now riding a wave of power and prestige.
Sensing Diamond's reluctance, Reginald quickly corrected himself, realizing his slip, "Officer Hawthorne, it's been a while."
However long it had been, neither of them had ever wanted to meet again.
Diamond responded with cold politeness, and silence ensued.
But Reginald had things to say. He patted the passenger seat, inviting, "Officer Hawthorne, would you care to join me in the car for a chat?"
Diamond opened the door and got in, getting straight to the point: "What's the matter?"
Reginald started the car, "Just finished your shift? It's lunchtime; let's grab something to eat."
With someone else footing the bill, Diamond didn't hesitate. Once at the restaurant, he picked the most expensive items without reservation.
Reginald, now a prominent figure, naturally didn't mind the cost.
At noon, the upscale restaurant was sparsely populated, and the entrance of two striking men drew the attention of those around.
Reginald had a strikingly heroic appearance, with sharp, well-defined features and a commanding presence. His movements were agile and precise, unmistakably the mark of someone trained in combat.
When Diamond had first met him, he'd thought the military brass must have lost their minds. Otherwise, why would they send such a righteous figure undercover?
Diamond always felt Arabella had been toying with Reginald, but then again, if it was a game, it was bold beyond reason.
Arabella had nearly been taken down by Reginald.
"What do you want? Go ahead—if it's about Arabella, save it. I completed my mission three years ago and applied for traffic duty." As the dishes were served, Diamond picked up his fork and, without delay, shut down any inquiry.
Hearing Diamond mention that name, Reginald clenched his fork tightly, his knuckles whitening as veins bulged on the back of his hand.
The hatred was unmistakable, hard to hide.
After taking a moment to compose himself, Reginald steered the conversation away. "That's not what I meant. A while ago, the military commission called me, saying that Merrick's condition has worsened. He's become so disoriented that he can't even recognize people. The caretaker mentioned that in his frantic scribbling on the walls, your name appeared." He paused, then continued, "A few days ago, I went to the International Special Police Headquarters to find you. They told me you'd been transferred to this district.
So it was all for Merrick Thornton's case.
Diamond, chewing his food, nodded, "I'll find time to visit him." After all, back then, they'd gone undercover together—some had come out broken-hearted, others maimed, some left mentally shattered. It seemed only the man before him had emerged unscathed.
At least, it seemed that way on the surface.
Just as Reginald was about to speak, his phone rang in his pocket. He picked it up, responding to the caller in a calm, indifferent tone.
Diamond could guess the gist; it was likely Reginald's partner on the other end, currently out shopping with his parents.
It seemed like a good thing was on the horizon.
Diamond couldn't help but wonder: did Reginald really come out unscathed under Arabella's command back then? Was he truly able to casually discuss relationships, settle down, and start a family?
He, for one, couldn't imagine doing so.
Reginald gave a few words of advice before hanging up, his expression indifferent. Meeting Diamond's inquisitive gaze, he didn't shy away and simply stated, "Our families are old friends, and I'm almost thirty. It's time to marry."
Diamond nodded. If Reginald could still marry, it seemed that Arabella had indeed shown him some mercy back then.
An unbidden jealousy stirred in his heart. Just thinking of that name made even the food in his mouth lose its flavor.
The two fell into silence, and Reginald's mood soured. After a few glasses of wine, something suddenly came to his mind.
"Today is—"
As Reginald began to speak, he noticed Diamond's expression change abruptly!
Immediately, the rapid fire of machine guns rang out, deafeningly loud, and the air was soon thick with the smell of gunpowder.
Screams erupted from men and women alike; anyone who instinctively rose to flee was hit by the frenzied machine gun fire, collapsing to the ground without even a groan.
The opposing trio was dressed entirely in black. The leader was tall, his stance with the gun cold and steady. When he sprayed bullets, it wasn't aimless; he only fired when he had a clear shot. He was a top-tier expert.
Reginald dodged behind a pillar, quickly surveying the surroundings and seizing an opportunity to raise his gun to counterattack. But the leader in black fired relentlessly at his hiding spot, the firepower so intense that Reginald had no chance to fight back.
The three came quickly and left just as swiftly. After spraying gunfire around the restaurant, the leader waved his hand and silently led his team away.
In the thick, acrid stench of gunpowder and the terrifying silence of death, Reginald gasped for breath. He spotted Diamond, hidden behind the sofa cushions, slowly emerging with his head, giving him a signal.
Reginald's expression shifted; Diamond's signal told him—the leader was Raven!
Reginald didn't want to believe it but had to accept the truth. Years ago, Diamond had been assigned by Arabella to work with Raven and knew him well.
Reginald raised his gun to give chase, but Diamond scrambled up to stop him, "Saving lives is more important! Even if you catch up, you can't beat that monster."
But things were not that simple. Both Diamond and Reginald soon received new orders.
Several busy districts in the city had been attacked by armed bandits, requiring a significant increase in police forces and urgent military reinforcements.
Explosions echoed one after another, the entire city trembling. The sky was thick with smoke, flames shooting high.
Reginald frowned, glancing at the smoke in the distance. He suddenly remembered the earlier call and quickly dialed back.
The line was busy, out of service.
The flames were coming from the shopping center where his parents had mentioned they'd be.
Diamond couldn't worry about why Reginald was running like mad. He focused on maintaining order, struggling to locate and protect the elderly, injured, and infirm amid the chaos.
As the dusk fell and the sunset faded, Diamond, who had been running around all afternoon, looked disheveled, his once-handsome face now covered in a layer of dust, utterly exhausted.
Yet, the ordeal was far from over. Just as he leaned against the police car, hoping for a brief rest, the dispatchers' call came through the car's intercom, and the communication screen flashed with the latest police report.
"Attention to officers near No. 3 Road. A black tactical vehicle with six armed bandits has just killed four prison and escort officers, hijacking a prison transport. The escaped prisoner's name is Ferdinand. All units, be advised! There is—"
Diamond didn't hear the rest of the announcement.
He recalled what Reginald had said earlier.
"Today, Ferdinand is being escorted to the execution ground."
Three years! Arabella had returned, causing all these attacks, just to rescue Ferdinand.
Three years ago, Ferdinand had been shot and captured while covering Arabella's escape. For three years, there had been no word from her, and everyone thought she wouldn't care about Ferdinand's fate.
Arabella, this woman, in the end, still had some affection for her good friend.
As for Ferdinand, he really was just her friend. It turns out the cleverest one was still Ferdinand.
