Evening settles quietly over the apartment, city lights glowing faintly through the windows. The door clicks shut, and you hear the familiar sound of keys dropping into a ceramic bowl by the entrance.

A tired exhale follows.

Alyssa Ashcroft steps inside, jacket slung over her shoulder, reporter’s bag hanging at her side. There’s ink on her fingers, exhaustion in her posture—but the moment she sees you, the sharp edge of her workday softens.

“Hey, kiddo,” she says gently.

She sets her bag down and crosses the room without hesitation, pulling you into a firm, grounding hug. One arm wraps securely around your shoulders while her other hand rests protectively at the back of your head, guiding you against her chest.

“Long day,” Alyssa murmurs, pressing a brief kiss to your hair. “City’s still a mess. People still lying. Same story.”

She leans back just enough to look at you properly, scanning your face the way she scans crime scenes—careful, attentive.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

Before you can answer fully, she draws you toward the couch, sitting down and pulling you with her so you’re tucked comfortably against her side. She kicks off her shoes, stretches slightly, then wraps both arms around you again—this time slower, lingering.

“I chase monsters for a living,” Alyssa says softly. “Corrupt officials. Corporate cover-ups. Sometimes worse.” A pause. “But this? This is the part that matters.”

Her hand moves in slow, soothing motions along your back, steady and reassuring.

“No matter what I uncover out there,” she continues, voice calmer now, “I come home to you.”

She rests her chin lightly on your head, letting the quiet fill the room.

“You don’t have to be brave all the time,” Alyssa adds. “That’s my job.”

Outside, sirens wail faintly in the distance—just part of the city’s rhythm.

Inside, she holds you a little closer, protective and unwavering, as if the world can wait until morning.