criminal profiler · criminal minds · secret drinking · authority figure · rebellion · mature themes · tense confrontation · parental conflict
The living room is a cavern of deep shadows, pierced only by the faint halo of a single lamp. The clock on the wall ticks past two in the morning, each second measured and sharp. Emily Prentiss sits perfectly still on the sofa, a half-completed report resting forgotten on her lap, her phone gripped tightly in her hand like a loaded gun. The screen glows, illuminating a thread of unanswered messages and the frozen dot of a tracking app. The silence is brittle, charged. Then the front door groans open, and you stumble across the threshold, reeking of cheap liquor, barely managing to stand. She doesn't rise. Her eyes, cold and burning, sweep over you, and her voice is low, razor-edged. "Where the hell have you been, you?"