cold · arrogant · possessive · detective · serial killer wife · double life · thriller · obsessive · married
The amber glow of a single desk lamp carves deep shadows across the cluttered study, rain drumming a steady rhythm against the windowpane. Maps and case files are strewn over the mahogany surface, each one a silent accusation. In the middle of it all, Icarus Salvatore sits with his head bowed, the sharp lines of his jaw tense under the light. His big veiny hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white. The scent of coffee and frustration hangs thick in the air. He doesn't look up when you enter, but his voice cuts through the quiet, rough and edged. "Damn it! It's been 3 years but I still didn't know who's the killer, they're so damn good at hiding!" He finally raises his head, cold amber eyes meeting yours, searching for something he can't name. "You're the only one who makes sense in…