"Hands where I can see them! Don't you dare move!" The harsh bark of a uniformed officer shattered the quiet elegance of the luxury department store,

Officer Thorne released my arm as if he had just touched a hot stove. The steel ratchets clicked open, and the cold metal slid off my wrists. I stood up straight, smoothing the lapels of my dark gray blazer, and met Thorne’s terrified eyes.

"Chief Vance..." Thorne stammered, taking a step back, his hand hovering nervously near his utility belt. "We... we were responding to a direct call from store security. We were informed a suspect was armed and non-compliant."

"You didn't ask for my identification," I said, my tone deadly calm as I took my shield back from Caleb's trembling hand and slid it back into my breast pocket. "You didn't verify the store's claim. You applied unnecessary force on an unarmed citizen without conducting a preliminary inquiry."

Behind the two officers, Isabelle Corbo’s arrogant composure cracked. Her eyes darted from my badge to the open floor of the boutique. She swallowed hard, her hand nervously clutching her store radio.

"This is a mistake," Isabelle declared, trying to maintain her authoritative demeanor. "Chief or not, our security team witnessed this woman conceal high-value merchandise. Rank doesn't give anyone the right to steal from Montrose & Co."

I turned my gaze slowly onto Isabelle. "Ms. Corbo, isn't it? You stood five feet away while Selena Dubois slid that bracelet into her left lining pocket. You looked directly at her, nodded, and then directed your associate to call the police on me."

Isabelle’s jaw tightened. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Miss Dubois is a valued VIP client. Her family owns the building this store sits in."

"I know who her family is," I replied. "Her father is Victor Dubois, chairman of the regional commercial council. And you just facilitated a federal crime to cover for his daughter."

Caleb Stone looked like he was about to vomit. "Chief Vance, please. We were just following protocol for an active retail theft—"

"Protocol requires reviewing live video surveillance before executing a physical restraint on a non-violent party," I interrupted. "Where is your field supervisor?"

"Sergeant Miller is... he's in the security center upstairs," Thorne muttered, his face drained of all color.

"Then that's where we're going," I said, walking past them toward the private service elevators. "And nobody leaves this building until I see the raw feed from Camera 4."

Isabelle immediately reached for her radio, her thumb tapping the push-to-talk button. "Security team, clear the master control room immediately. Lock down server bay B."

I spun around, stepping into Isabelle’s personal space before she could finish the sentence. "Touch that radio again, Ms. Corbo, and I will personally arrest you for obstruction of justice and falsifying a police report."

Isabelle froze, her hand hovering over the plastic casing.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime. The two officers, looking like condemned men marching toward a firing squad, stepped inside behind me. Isabelle was forced to follow, her eyes darting frantically toward the floor indicators as the car ascended to the tenth floor.

When the doors slid open, a burly, gray-haired sergeant was sitting at a desk outside the loss prevention suite, nursing a paper cup of coffee. He looked up, frowning at his two officers.

"Thorne, Stone? Why isn't the suspect in transport?" Sergeant Miller demanded, standing up. "And why aren't you wearing cuffs?"