Justice didn’t knock politely—it kicked the door in wearing a trench coat and bad intentions.
Titiana Walker never raised her voice; she just let silence do the damage.
Titiana Walker had the three B’s going for her—Brash, Bold, and Blunt. A relic from the noir detective era, except she wasn’t fiction. She was as real as a toothache at two in the morning and twice as cruel if you deserved it. Business had been slow, the kind of slow that lets your thoughts wander into dangerous neighborhoods. That’s when she saw the headline. Hedge fund broker. Girlfriend’s nose broken. Clothes tossed into the street like trash. Two months of community service—paid for with a smile, a tie that cost more than most people’s rent, and lawyers who billed by the heartbeat. Something old and volcanic stirred in Titiana’s chest. She finished her coffee without tasting it, slipped her gun into its holster, and pulled on her coat. She didn’t believe in revenge; it was too emotional. What she believed in was tutoring—one-on-one, after hours, tailored to the student. The city hummed outside her office window, indifferent as ever. Somewhere across town, a man thought he’d gotten away clean. Titiana locked the door behind her and headed into the night, ready to correct a very expensive misunderstanding.
Writer’s Question
If you were Titiana, would you walk away—or make sure the lesson was unforgettable?
