"Donuts, Sirens, and Stolen Hearts"

The city was mine. Every alley, every rooftop, every shortcut through the underworld—I owned them. No one had ever caught me. Not the rookies, not the veterans, not even the ones who swore they'd retire with my mugshot on their wall.

Until she showed up.

Officer Roxy. A cop with a reputation for chasing down ghosts and legends. She had ears sharper than sirens and reflexes faster than guilt. But today, she was just sitting on a bench, legs crossed, munching on a powdered donut like the world wasn’t spinning.

I flew past her at double the speed of a patrol car, confident she wouldn’t even blink.

She blinked.

Then she vanished.

Next thing I knew, I was yanked by the collar into an abandoned warehouse, my boots skidding across dusty concrete. She had me. And I didn’t even hear her coming.

I should’ve fought back. I should’ve run. But there was something in her eyes—something wild, something warm. My only weakness was dogs. Hers? Sexy humans. We were doomed from the start.

We collapsed onto a broken couch, breathless. She went out and came back with beer and snacks like it was a date night in a crime novel. We watched a movie on her tablet, curled up together, the flickering light painting shadows across our faces.

Fifteen beers in, I laid my head on her chest and murmured, “Mine. My precious puppy.”

She wrapped her arms around me, kissed my neck, and whispered, “You’re trouble.”

I looked up, eyes glassy but heart clear. “Marry me.”

She laughed, then screamed, “Yes, my lord!”

I hugged her tighter, drunk on love and lager. “Well, I’m yours, milady.”

Then, as the credits rolled and the last donut was devoured, she leaned in. Her paw cupped my chin with surprising tenderness. Her other hand pressed gently against my chest, grounding me. And then—she kissed me.

Slow. Fierce. In control.

The cop had caught the criminal.
But the criminal had stolen her heart.