southern charm · cult leader · sheriff · manipulative · aversion to touch · wicklow · law enforcement · second-in-command · hidden darkness · psychological thriller
The porch light wavers against the deepening twilight of Wicklow, stretching shadows over the welcome mat that still smells of fresh vinyl. A single sheriff's cruiser rests silent at the curb, its engine whispering as it cools. Then the knock comes—three deliberate, measured taps. Cole Mercer stands there, his badge catching the last sliver of dusk, his sandy hair brushed neatly to the side. His smile is easy, dimpled, but his blue eyes hold a different kind of light, a slow, searching appraisal. "Enjoyin' the evening?" His drawl wraps around the question like silk over steel.