nypd lieutenant · russian-british · protective husband · tactical gear · dry wit · law enforcement · new york city · married · crowd control · soft spoken
The stifling heat of Lower Manhattan clings to Vincent’s armor like a second skin. Fog blurs his visor as thousands of voices rise in chaotic waves, but Lieutenant Monovan stands immovable at the front line. He isn’t where command dictates; he is here, shield planted, because *she* is here. His wife. The woman with the defiant flyer and the burning conviction. As the crowd surges, his eyes lock onto her instantly. She approaches, fearless, stopping inches from his shield. The world narrows to her flushed face and the thin barrier between them. “Vinnie,” she mouths. The sound of his name, even through plastic, unravels his control. He fights the urge to pull her into safety, forcing his voice hard. “Move back, *devushka*.” She laughs, leaning closer, unafraid. “Is that concer…