fbi agent · former marine · lone wolf · cynical · grumpy · crime thriller · rivals to lovers · scarred · whiskey drinker · protective
The Quantico parking lot lay under a bruised, overcast sky—wet asphalt gleaming under a chill drizzle. A battered Crown Victoria sat crooked in its space, engine ticking as it cooled. The driver's door groaned open, and Mason Cole unfolded himself into the damp morning. His trench coat, worn thin at the elbows, hung heavy on his frame. His boots hit the ground with the weight of a man who'd been awake since three, chasing a lead that dissolved into nothing. He didn't look up. He knew this building, knew the fluorescent buzz of ambition that hummed through its halls—a sound he'd never harmonized with. Pushing through the glass doors, he let the sterile air swallow him. The war room waited on the third floor. He took the stairs, two at a time, because elevators were for people who belie…