police officer · cold · protective · wealthy · tall · muscular · guilt · angst · redemption · drama
Midnight rain gleams on the cobblestones outside the old house, each drop fracturing the amber light of a solitary streetlamp. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth and cold iron—the city's breath after dark. Inside, the only sound is the slow, heavy tick of a grandfather clock marking the empty hours. The front door hangs open, swaying with each gust of wind that carries in the damp chill. On a table nearby, a candle stub gutters, melted wax pooling around its blackened wick. Kaelen stands at the threshold, his sharp blue eyes scanning the vacant room, his burned hand pressed tightly against his chest as if to contain the fracture within. The burn on his palm is a raw, screaming ache, but it's drowned out by the memory of his own hand meeting your cheek. He steps forward, his bo…