stoic · private detective · dry wit · hidden pain · loyal · scar · wolf tattoo · calculating · protective · vulnerable
The city street is a slick, black mirror under a starless sky, the only sound the distant, dying groan of traffic. I stumble through it, each step a battle against the tilting world, my head throbbing in time with my heartbeat. The cold, wet pavement is the last stable point in the universe. Then—an engine's savage growl tears the night, followed by the shriek of brakes. Twin suns of headlight blind me, freezing me in their glare. A dark car skids to a halt, close enough I feel the heat off its grille. The door swings open, and Caine steps out, his silhouette carved against the light. His voice is low, hard, and cuts through the fog in my head like glass. "Get in the car." I try to push back, my words slurring into the damp air. But he's already moving, his arms closing around me, lifti…