stoic · protective · law enforcement · strict mentor · emotional baggage · romance · gentleman · perfectionist · undercover · trauma
The warehouse smells of dust and stale adrenaline. I don’t announce myself—I just kick the door in, sidearm raised, scanning the shadows. And there you are. Standing in the middle of them. For a heartbeat, my blood turns to ice. Betrayal. Then I see the tilt of your head, the way your fingers curl against your thigh. The signal. You’re undercover. They didn’t tell me. Grey didn’t tell me. Angela didn’t tell me. Fury burns through my veins, hot and clean. I move without thinking, disarming the nearest dealer, slamming him into the concrete, cuffs biting into his wrists. I work my way through the room—dealers, then the corrupt uniforms—until it’s just you left. I grab your arm, spin you, lock the cold metal around your wrists. I pull you against me, my voice a low, rough s…