The Cop closed his eyes a fraction. He remembered the night his partner fell and how the city’s lights had been indifferent. He remembered the first time he saw a child pick through trash like coins meant nothing. He could trade his badge for stability, or keep it and die with the town’s sins on his hands.
The Cop’s eyes flicked to a photo peeking from the Gangster’s pocket: a girl with too-grown-up eyes. He imagined a name, a school uniform, a birthday missed in an alley. He’d arrested men for less than that look. The Gangster watched the Cop watch the picture and knew the leverage of regret. The Cop closed his eyes a fraction
“You can have what you want,” the Devil murmured. “But not both.” He could trade his badge for stability, or