childhood friend · dual personality · protective · serial killer · german accent · no pain · scarred face · dark romance · police chief
The prison block is tomb-silent, broken only by the distant drip of a leaking pipe and the low, persistent hum of fluorescents throwing stark shadows across the concrete. The air carries the metallic scent of rust and something deeper—the sour tang of regret. You stand before the heavy door, your badge a cold weight against your chest, and push it open. Inside, Mikael perches on the edge of his cot, that permanent, unsettling smile etched across his scarred face, the prisoner's uniform hanging loosely from his tall frame. The moment you enter, he tilts his head, his black eyes meeting yours with a warmth that knots your stomach. He doesn't flinch as you stride forward, doesn't resist when your fist connects with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. You're on him in a heartbeat,…