AMONG SHADOWS

3 HOURS AFTER THE ARREST

Flashing headlines flooded every screen across the city.

BREAKING: "MONSTER UNMASKED – DAMIEN QUINN IN POLICE CUSTODY"

News anchors rattled off details with feverish excitement. Footage of Damien being escorted, limping and cuffed, looped on every channel.

"He looked so normal… like someone you'd pass on the street," one anchor whispered on-air, shaken.

Another flipped through files, brows furrowed. "Multiple counts—murder, abduction, impersonation, and torture. This... this is unlike anything we've seen before."

Crowds gathered outside the precinct, held back by barriers and a dozen patrol officers. Some screamed profanities. Others cried. A woman held a sign that read: Justice for Helena. Justice for all.

"This is just the start!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "He better not see the light of day again!"

Kids, college students, families—everyone had something to say.

"I saw the news video. One of the kids he held… he looked just like my nephew," a man said, gripping a mic with trembling hands. "If it were me, I'd have put a bullet in that bastard's head myself."

Social media exploded in rage and relief. Some praised the SVU for finally bringing him down. Others demanded to know how he'd gone undetected for so long.

---

SVU PRECINCT – LATER THAT NIGHT

Inside the Chief's office, the air was stiff with tension. Rain smacked the windows, and the city outside pulsed with unrest.

Scott stood in front of the desk, soaked to the shoulders, arms crossed. The chief lit a cigarette, watching him like a war general debriefing after a brutal campaign.

"Hell of a mess," the chief muttered, dragging smoke.

"We cleaned it up," Scott replied, his voice low but tight. "Barely."

The chief exhaled hard, tapping ash into a tray. "The mayor's on my neck. Press wants a statement. Public's foaming at the mouth."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "Good. Let them rage. Let them know we got the bastard."

"You pulled off a miracle," the chief said, leaning forward. "That bait video, the setup at the hospital... no casualties, no mistakes. That's no small thing, Scott."

"It wasn't luck. It was sweat," Scott said. "Frank spent two days without blinking. Ray and Steph held the front. We earned this."

The chief nodded slowly, rubbing his temples.

"But you know this ain't over, right?"

Scott glanced sideways, eyes dark. "Not even close."

The chief looked at him dead on. "The whole city's watching now. The feds are circling. You sure your team's ready for what's next?"

Scott didn't flinch. "We've been ready since the first body dropped."

SVU BRIEFING ROOM – HOURS LATER

The precinct had quieted down, but tension still hung in the air like leftover smoke from a battlefield. The walls buzzed faintly with murmurs from officers still on calls, still writing reports. Inside the briefing room, Scott stood at the head of the long table. His team sat across from him—Ray with his arms folded, Frank tapping nervously on his tablet, and Stephanie staring blankly into her half-finished coffee.

Scott dropped a folder on the table. The sound snapped everyone back into the moment.

"All right. He's behind bars. But that doesn't mean we rest," Scott said, his tone sharp but heavy.

"So what now?" Ray asked, running a hand through his short, soaked hair. "We got the psycho. End of story, right?"

"Far from it," Scott muttered, eyes locked on the folder. "That arrest bought us time. Not peace."

Frank looked up. "You thinking copycats? Or… someone else behind the curtain?"

Scott's eyes flicked to him. "I'm thinking patterns. Connections. You don't just wake up one day and become Damien Quinn. Someone trained him. Groomed him maybe."

Stephanie leaned forward. "You think there's more like him out there?"

Scott nodded slowly. "I think we've only scratched the surface."

Ray exhaled loudly, rocking back in his chair. "Damn it. I was hopin' this was the big bad boss. You know—end credits, fade to black."

Scott's voice was calm but edged with steel. "This isn't a movie, Ray. It's a war. And we just won one battle."

Stephanie looked over. "So what's next?"

Scott gave her a small, tired smirk. "We read the script before the next act writes itself."

Frank blinked. "What does that mean?"

Scott tapped the folder. "It means we dig. We pull up every trace Quinn left behind. Contacts. Old files. Military connections. Whatever the hell he was tied to."

The room fell into a heavy silence. Then Ray spoke up.

"You think he was part of something bigger, Cap?"

Scott turned his eyes to the board behind them, where pinned photos and strings still mapped out the madness of the past few weeks.

"I don't think. I know."