Losing Control (Phoenix Ridge Police Department #8)

Chapter 1

The rifle wasn’t aimed yet. Maddox’s eyes tracked the barrel—a bolt-action hunting rifle, Richard’s hand too close to the trigger guard—while her body stayed loose and ready. Zeus pressed against her left leg, seventy-five pounds of coiled muscle waiting for a command she hadn’t given.

“Richard.” Her voice cut through the spring damp, clear and controlled. “Put it down.”

He swayed on the porch steps, drunk enough that his words slurred together. “She called you people. Shouldna done that.”

Behind Maddox, Brooke’s terrified breathing hitched.

The ex-girlfriend huddled with her neighbor twenty feet back, silent tears streaming down her face.

Backup flanked the perimeter, officers she knew and trusted, but this was her call.

Domestic disturbances went sideways fast. Add alcohol and firearms, and you had mere minutes before someone got hurt.

She’d arrived first and preferred it that way. It gave her time to assess before the crowd showed up.

“Your daughter’s waiting to hear from you,” Maddox said. The lie came easy. Anything to create a connection and find leverage. “Put the rifle down so we can talk.”

Richard’s fingers twitched near the trigger.

Zeus shifted his weight, not by much, just a redistribution of readiness.

He felt her tension even before she did, always had.

The afternoon pressed the damp and gray around them, ocean salt mixing with wet pavement and peeling paint.

Two-story house, overgrown yard, a neighborhood where people minded their business until someone screamed.

“You don’t know what she did.” Richard’s voice cracked. “You don’t—”

The flash surfaced against her will: different heat, different firearm, Zeus moving ahead to clear a space while her lungs seized—

Maddox shoved it down. Not here, not now.

“I know you’re hurting,” she said. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She ignored it. “I know it feels like there’s no way out, but there is. Put down the rifle.”

Five long seconds stretched between them. Wind carried the promise of rain, and her Kevlar vest pressed familiar and grounding against her chest. Zeus’s warmth anchored her left side while Richard’s red-rimmed eyes searched for something he wouldn’t find in her face.

Then he swung the barrel.

Not aimed, just a drunk man’s rage given motion, but Zeus launched before she could give the command and his entire body closed the distance in three strides.

He hit Richard low and controlled, his jaws finding the forearm that held the rifle, his weight driving the man sideways and away from the weapon.

The rifle clattered against the concrete and skittered away.

“Release,” Maddox commanded, already moving forward.

Zeus let go immediately and backed to her side as other officers swarmed in around them.

They had Richard face-down within seconds, cuffing him while he openly sobbed into the pavement.

Someone kicked the rifle clear of the scene, and someone else called for paramedics to check him over, though Zeus’s bite had been clean and controlled.

Maddox’s hands stayed steady as she secured the rifle and checked it over. Safety on, chamber empty.

“Good boy,” she murmured to Zeus, keeping her voice even. “Good work.”

Zeus looked up at her with those dark brown eyes, intent and watchful, reading her in a way nobody else could.

Brooke collapsed into her neighbor’s arms, sobbing in relief. Another officer approached from the perimeter—Riley, blonde and efficient, her expression bright with approval. “Hell of a call, Shaw. Clean work.”

“Just doing the job.”

Riley’s grin flashed quick and easy. “You’ve been racking them up this month, though. Everything okay?”

“Fine.” The word came out flat. “I’ll write it up back at the station.”

She turned away before Riley could press further.

Her chest felt too tight, her breathing shallow, and there was the taste of copper where she’d bitten through her cheek without realizing it.

The adrenaline crash pulled at her edges, trying to drag her under, but she kept her spine straight and her expression neutral.

Another call handled, another scene cleared. The math was simple: no injuries, suspect in custody, weapon secured.

Zeus pressed closer as they walked back to her vehicle. He always knew.

The drive back to the station blurred at the edges. Maddox navigated the familiar streets on autopilot, her hands steady on the wheel while her heart refused to slow down. Zeus shifted in his compartment behind her, his presence a weight she could feel even through the barrier.

She pulled into her usual spot in the far corner of the Phoenix Ridge Police Department lot and cut the engine, and the sudden silence felt too loud.

Maddox sat in the driver’s seat longer than she should’ve. The engine ticked as it cooled down, and rain started up, light drops on the windshield that blurred the gray brick building ahead into something softer around the edges. Behind her, Zeus whined softly.

She should get out and do the paperwork, write up the incident while the details were still fresh in her mind. Instead, she just sat there and let the rain fall.

Her hands wanted to shake, but she curled them into fists against her thighs, her jaw tight and aching. Just adrenaline, that’s all this was, a normal response to high-stress calls. Everyone felt this afterward.

Except…most people’s hearts didn’t hammer like this for twenty minutes after the fact. Most people didn’t see different scenes overlaid on top of the present moment.

The flash had lasted maybe two seconds, if that. Not even a full memory, just heat and the wrong building and Zeus moving ahead while her breath caught in her throat and she hesitated for a fraction too long—

“Stop it,” she commanded herself.

Zeus whined again, more insistent this time.

Maddox climbed out and opened his compartment.

He pressed against her leg immediately, steady and grounding.

She checked him over, looking for any sign of injury or stress, but there was nothing.

No injuries, no strain markers, just Zeus being Zeus.

Professional and excellent at his job, unlike his handler, who couldn’t keep her pulse steady after what should’ve been a routine call.

She grabbed an unopened water bottle and twisted off the cap, then filled his water bowl. While he drank, she ran her fingers through his thick coat. Her hands felt steadier when they had something to do. He leaned into her touch, grounding her without judgment.

“Good work today,” she told him, and the words came easier with just Zeus to hear them. “Clean takedown. You’re getting faster every time.”

His brown eyes watched her face with that unsettling awareness he’d always had.

He’d been with her for almost five years now, since he was barely six months old.

He knew her rhythms and tells, and he could sense the difference between her being actually calm and the white-knuckled control she called calm.

She looked back at the precinct building and tried to pull in a deep breath, but it caught somewhere in her chest and wouldn’t go as deep as she needed it to.

“Come on,” she said to Zeus, her voice rougher than she meant it to be. “Let’s get you settled.”

The K-9 building was attached to the main station like an afterthought.

It was small and efficient, all kennels and training spaces that smelled perpetually of dogs and industrial cleaning supplies.

A few other K-9 officers were working in the space, but they offered nothing more than nods as she passed.

Everyone on the team knew by now that Maddox preferred her space after the tough calls.

She went through Zeus’s post-incident protocol with the kind of focus that didn’t allow for stray thoughts.

Everything by the book, the way it was supposed to be done.

She checked his paws, mouth, and coat for any sign of strain before she measured his food portion and gave him fresh water in his kennel so he could decompress in his kennel with one of his favorite toys.

After she closed Zeus’s kennel door behind him, she massaged her jaw.

It ached from how hard she’d been unknowingly clenching it.

The exhaustion pulled at her from somewhere deep, the kind of bone-tiredness that came from running on fumes too long.

Weeks, maybe months. However long it’d been since sleep felt like actual rest instead of just another battlefield to survive.

She looked back at Zeus, finding him already watching her. “I’m fine,” she said, like saying it out loud would make it true. His tail thumped once against the concrete floor. Not an agreement, she didn’t think, but just an acknowledgement.

Her radio crackled to life on her shoulder. “Shaw, Chief Marten wants to see you when you’re clear.”

She pressed the button with more force than necessary. “Copy. On my way.”

It was probably just the standard debrief after a scene with a firearm, she reasoned. She’d give her report, Diana would sign off on the paperwork, and everyone could move on with their day.

Routine, nothing to worry about.

So why did her chest feel impossibly tight as she crossed the parking lot toward the main building?

The rain fell heavier now, soaking through her uniform shirt and plastering it to her shoulders. She didn’t rush or try to avoid it. The cold helped somehow, sharpening everything that had gone soft and unfocused at the edges of her awareness.

Phoenix Ridge PD rose up before her, all solid brick and professional efficiency, the kind of department that ran on competence and careful procedure.

She’d been here six years and had built a solid reputation in that time: reliable, skilled, the kind of officer you wanted handling your toughest calls.

No one needed to know anything except that she showed up on time, did the work that needed doing, and kept her shit together when it mattered.