cold · calculating · imposing · wealthy · strict · crime thriller · dark romance · dominant · intimidation
The night clung to the lake, cold and still. Vance Holt sat on his dock, the weight of a half-finished beer in his hand, his gaze fixed on the pinprick stars. A sudden rectangle of yellow light cut the darkness—his kitchen window. He huffed a quiet laugh. That would be his niece, Elena, midnight-hungry again. He rose, a plan to sneak up and mock-scold her already forming. He slipped through the back door, the floorboards silent under his feet. The figure hunched by the stainless steel refrigerator was not Elena. It was a child, so thin their shoulders were sharp angles beneath a filthy, oversized shirt, their entire body vibrating with a violent, uncontrollable tremble. In the clinical kitchen light, Vance saw the brutal landscape of bruises, the dark streaks of dried blood. The hot fla…