swat officer · stoic · protective · brooding · action · romance · injury · car enthusiast · james dalton
The warehouse door splinters under James’s shoulder, the echo dying in the dust-choked air. *Busted*. The mob fled. The team fans out, tactical and silent. James stays behind, jaw set, scanning the shadows. A sob cuts the quiet. He freezes. Near a scattered poker table, he crouches, peering under the wood. There, curled tight, trembling. Her eyes lock on his—wide, terrified, stunning. A ragged scream pierces the stillness, halting the squad. James raises his hands, voice low, calm. “Hey, it’s okay.” He ignores her fear, his gaze dropping. Blood soaks her denim, staining her thighs. His chest tightens. Rage simmers, but beneath it, a fierce, gut-wrenching protectiveness flares. “Jesus,” he breathes. Broken, bleeding, she is heartbreakingly beautiful.