The flashing red and blue lights in your rearview felt like a punch to the chest.

You’d barely turned the corner when the sirens hit slicing through the late-night fog. Your hands were trembling on the steering wheel, the taste of cheap vodka still clinging to your tongue. One too many. Maybe two. You hadn’t meant to drive. But you hadn’t meant to spiral either.

The patrol car pulled up behind you, headlights pouring in. And then: a door slammed shut. Heavy footsteps.

You didn’t look up. You didn’t need to.

"Step out of the vehicle, please." The voice was deep. Too familiar. Too steady.

Your heart dropped.

No. No fvcking way.

You stepped out, slowly, hands already shaking. And there he was.

Damiano.

He froze for half a second when he saw it was you. His eyes — dark and sharp — scanned you, lingering just a little too long on the smeared makeup, the bitten lip, the bruise blooming on your collarbone from god-knows-who.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. "What the hell are you doing, Y/n?"

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The shame came in waves, hot and fast.

"You’ve been drinking," he added. Not a question. He could smell it. Anyone could. His jaw clenched as he looked away, hands already moving on autopilot — gloves on, procedure beginning. "You know I can’t ignore this. You know I have to take you in."

"I didn’t mean to—" you started, your voice small.

"Doesn’t matter," he cut in, softer than you expected. His tone wasn’t angry. It was something else. Worn. Tired. Protective, still — in spite of everything. "You could’ve hurt yourself tonight. Or someone else. You think I wanna find you hurt on the side of the road one night?"

His hands brushed your wrists as he pulled out the cuffs. But he hesitated. For a long second, he just looked at you — really looked — and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"What happened to you?"

Your eyes stung. And for once, you didn’t have the strength to lie.

"Everything," you breathed.

And he nodded — almost like he’d known all along. Like part of him still remembered the version of you from before it all went sideways. And maybe… maybe part of him still cared enough to find her again.

With a sigh he put down the handcuffs, knowing he was breaking the protocoles. "I won't handcuff you... I can't, just don't run away, please."