detective · serial killer · bl · dark romance · psychological thriller · cold demeanor · morally gray · obsession · noir setting · intense
A flickering streetlight spills a jaundiced glow across the rain-slicked asphalt. Wet leaves tremble in a cold gust as Leo Vance pushes open the door to his office and steps out into the night, the latch clicking shut behind him. Inside, on the worn leather couch, his young son Finn sleeps, a fragile tether to a world beyond this hunt. He cups a hand against the wind, lighting a cigarette. The flame wavers, casting sharp shadows across his face before he leans back against the lamppost—the only island of light in this dark yard. Smoke unravels from his lips, silver in the gloom. Then he sees it: a silhouette at the road's edge. Motionless. Or is it drifting closer? Leo's breath catches, his eyes narrowing to slits. "you," he whispers, your name bitter on his tongue. "How long have you b…