Gillian stared out over the bar filled with cops. Why did she feel so accepted, wanted, at home, and part of their family among these humans?" Each of them had become a brother or a sister and a friend with one or two exceptions.

Would they still look at her with such trust if they learned the truth, or would they turn on her? It was the one thing she never really wanted to find out.

Content, relaxed, and almost sleepy, she watched them from her cozy little corner. Their giddy excitement over their recent solve rate seemed infectious, and their achievements earned them a commendation at city hall. It was the reason they all dressed to the nines in their uniforms to end up in a pub.

Some seemed almost boisterous after the champagne and wine earlier, but they deserved it.

***

How had a year passed since she first stepped into their lives? It had been a rough ride, and few of the original team remained, but the ones that replaced them became new friends, while those that stayed proved their valor.

Gillian snuggled deeper into her chair, nursing a beer and absentmindedly drawing circles in the wet rings it made on the table.

Colt stepped onto a chair with the help of some over-eager hands that almost succeeded in toppling her, and she laughed as they also saved her from falling, raising her glass and drawing their attention.

"Tonight, we make two toasts: the first to ourselves and our awesomeness." The deafening cheer lasted far too long.

Colt waited patiently, carefree for the first time in months, as she raised her glass a second time, instantly soliciting an attentive silence.

"A little prematurely since we're not supposed to know yet, but raise your glasses to our newest and youngest detective. Gillian, get your arse out of that chair and get up here—"

She hadn't told anyone and didn't expect them to find out before she learned the results herself, but someone must have seen the paperwork or had to approve it.

They almost carried her along, putting a chair beside Colt as they cheered and congratulated her. Her cheeks turned red, and the crowd roared with laughter at her evident unease.

"Quite a secret to keep," Colt ribbed as they brought over a tankard of beer and made her chug it.

***

Gillian eventually found a vacant seat and a moment of peace, which Boss interrupted by slipping into a chair across from her.

"Congratulations," he said with a smile, and his dimples made her swallow dryly as he held up his glass, and she gently tapped hers against his.

"Thanks." Had she ever seen him this relaxed? It wasn't a side of him she expected to see. He looked boyishly handsome without his usual stern demeanor with a twinkle in his eyes that made him look younger, while his genuine smile fascinated her.

"You scored higher than Colt and made her almost jealous," he teased, and she smirked.

The fiercely competitive Detective Andrea Colt turned games and sports into an intense rivalry, a normal outcome with so many strong, competitive and intelligent people in their unit, yet it was all in good fun.

She struggled to relate to Boss in the old-worldly atmosphere of the club.

He remained one of the very few people who made her uneasy. He always saw too much, yet she found it hard to read him, while most people were an open book. With what little she learned about him, and despite her respect for him as their team leader and friend, the man remained an enigma.

"How does it feel to be a detective?"

"Great. Now my boss might stop looking at me like something the cat dragged in," she teased, and he smirked.

"You've proven yourself a worthy addition before you earned your new badge," he admitted, and her heart swelled with pride.

"Thank you, sir."

"We are not on duty," he reminded, and she nodded.

Boss, a born leader, made the right decisions at the right time to keep his people safe and had he been a vampire, her grandfather would respect him.

He guided their actions without micromanaging or humiliating them, inspiring loyalty and a willingness to do more than their share. He was a fair man who listened, heard, and spoke words with meaning.

His moral code, strength, and courage are unquestionable, yet he lacked neither compassion nor understanding.

His one flaw was perhaps caring too much. Boss invested too greatly of himself in each of their cases, and she worried that if he did this job long enough, it would change him.

How much of yourself could you give before nothing of you remained? She couldn't picture him as hard and callous or uncaring, and it would kill something within her to watch him become like that.

To most of their colleagues, being a policeman was a job, but to the people in this room, it was a calling—a way to restore balance to the world, one case at a time.

"So, are you going to leave us now that you have better options?" his question caught her off guard.

None of them viewed their assignment to the division as a stop-gap job to some higher place; they had discovered their place in the world and would be lost if they had to be placed elsewhere.

"No, si—Gavin. I am happy where I am."

"Glad to hear that. Do you want another drink?"

"I'm good."

"We're off for the next two nights. Live a little."

Her eyes drifted over his shoulder to the television in the corner, and her attention shifted instantly. Despite the sound being turned too low for the humans and the noise, she had no problem hearing.

A familiar face flashed across the screen. Police tape and flashing lights caught on camera beside the main entrance to a dorm at the local university.

"Gillian!" Her attention snapped back to Gavin Bos, and her name on his lips seemed wrong after being just Beaumont for so long.

"What just happened?" Boss asked, his gaze intense and worried. She hated that her words would spoil the evening and this moment alone with him, but she couldn't avoid it.

"Channel Four just reported the murder of Preston Scott." She watched him physically change from "Gavin" to "Senior Detective in Charge Boss."

The relaxed man from a moment ago disappeared in an instant. His shoulders tensed, his jaw set, his eyes became hooded, his gaze sharpened, and his manner became distant. His eyes darkened and became brooding, his brain already far away from their surroundings.

"Don't let Colt notice you but find a quiet spot and call the station. I want the facts," Boss requested, and although she had already learned them, she couldn't explain her knowledge.

Gillian obeyed his order.

The evening had lost its charm, and a chill settled in her soul. She didn't need to discover all the details to deduce this was no ordinary murder. Their friend had struck again, and it unsettled her.