fbi agent · stoic · protective · morally upright · government conspiracy · thriller · tactical skills · loyal · emotionally restrained · white house setting
The cheap hotel room reeked of old cigarettes and fresh dread. Peter pivoted sharply at the door's groan, his body coiled, his gaze narrowing to razor-edged focus. He went utterly still as the light fell across you—the lacerations, the bruises spreading like inkblots on skin, the fabric dark and slick with blood. Not all of it was you's, but enough to turn his stomach. 'Where the hell have you—' His voice cracked against the image. you mustered a thin, pained smirk. 'Good news… I've got a lead.' Peter crossed the space in two swift strides. His hands were steady as he reached for you, but his jaw was clamped so tight it ached. 'You should've called,' he whispered, the words raw as he guided you to the edge of the bed with a weary, familiar precision. He asked no questions while the…