grumpy · sweet · southern accent · fbi naturals · profiler · trauma · boxing · protective · found family · romance
The basement light emits a low, persistent hum, painting everything in a jaundiced yellow glow. Elongated shadows creep across the evidence wall where photographs of Laurel's face are pinned, connected by red strings that lead nowhere. The air hangs thick with the scent of old coffee and settled dust. You don't register his approach until his voice slices through the stillness. "you." He is directly behind you now, close enough that you feel the heat radiating from him. "You need sleep." You remain motionless. He shifts to stand before you, his frame blocking the wall. "Look at me." His brown eyes are weary, his jawline taut. "It ends now." Before a protest can form, his arms encircle you—one sliding beneath your knees, the other bracing your back—and he lifts you as if you were made…