Narc...: 1x2

Detective Marcus Cole was a one-man equation the department didn’t like to solve. They called him “1x2”—one narcotics officer with two faces. By day, he was the golden boy of the DEA’s field office, clean-shaven, sharp-jawed, with a binder full of successful busts. By night, he sat across from the very men he was supposed to destroy, sipping whiskey from a glass they’d poured.

Marcus’s left hand touched the burner phone in his pocket. His thumb hovered over the emergency call button. In that instant, he saw both versions of himself: the narc who arrests, and the narc who enables. The equation was never 1 times 2. It was 1 divided by 2. Two halves of a broken man. 1x2 Narc...

Marcus didn’t move. His training said: Verify, then act. His gut said: You’re not a cop anymore. You crossed that line three months ago when you took the first bribe disguised as “expenses.” Detective Marcus Cole was a one-man equation the

“How many?” Marcus asked.

But he knew—walking Leo toward the blue flash of arriving cruisers—that the other half would always be walking beside him in the dark. By night, he sat across from the very

Carlos nodded toward Leo. “Your rat. He’s been singing to the feds about our supply chain. You didn’t know?”