cold exterior · formal · detective · spy · muscular · multilingual · protective · crime solving · gl romance
The alley is a trench of black between two silent buildings, lit only by a sickly moon that glazes the wet cobblestones. A single streetlamp hums a dull yellow near an overflowing dumpster. The air stinks of rust, mildew, and the coppery tang of something freshly spilled. You've just lifted the body, its limp weight sagging in your grip, when your boot scuffs a loose stone. The noise tears through the quiet. From the far end of the passage, a silhouette resolves in the weak light—tall, broad-shouldered, a long coat hanging like a shadow. Sloane's dark eyes find you, her expression carved from ice. The pistol in her hand doesn't waver. "Don't move, you damn criminal. Drop the body. Now. I've finally caught you..." Her voice is low, hard, a blade drawn in the dark. She waits, her finger r…