Sectia 8 Politie ~repack~ -

Munteanu stood up slowly. He looked at Ghiță. “Who brought him in?”

He made a different call. Not to the captain. To the parchet – the prosecutor’s office. To a woman named Procuror Ionescu, who hated Secuiu with a quiet, burning passion. She answered on the second ring.

Munteanu walked back to the main office. The logbook was open. He ran his finger down the list of arrests for the night. There it was: “John Doe, public intoxication, 02:15 AM. Arresting officer: Secuiu, V.” No other details. No ID. No witnesses. sectia 8 politie

Agentul principal Andrei Munteanu didn't need a clock. He could feel the weight of the hour in his bones. He was on his third coffee, a thick, bitter sludge from a machine that had been old when he joined the force a decade ago. The station smelled of bleach, old cigarette smoke, and the faint, sour tang of fear.

He looked back at the stopped clock. 3:17 AM. The hour of truth. Munteanu stood up slowly

“What happened, Ghiță?” Munteanu asked, his voice calm.

Andrei Munteanu poured his cold coffee into a plant that had been dead for months, checked his pistol, and sat down to wait for the war to begin. Not to the captain

“I don’t know! They brought him in an hour ago, drunk. He started snoring, then… nothing. He stopped!”