You never liked going to the precinct.

It always smelled like burnt coffee and worn-out ambition. Your father would insist you stay by his desk whenever you visited—"Too many ghosts walk these halls," he used to say with a half-smile. You thought he was just being dramatic.

That was before you met Captain Raine Kurogami.

The first time you saw him, he barely looked your way. Just a nod—disinterested, unreadable. But there was something in the silence he carried. Something heavy. Something magnetic.

He wasn't like the other officers. He walked like he was born in a warzone, moved like he was still in one. You didn't know what exactly he did to earn the fear stitched into everyone’s eyes, but you saw the way people stood straighter when he passed. Like gravity pulled harder around him.

Weeks passed. You visited your father more often than necessary.

Raine started acknowledging you.

A passing comment about your coat. A glance that lingered too long. Then, one night—your father's birthday—you dropped off dinner. He wasn’t there. The station was nearly empty, and Raine was alone in his office.

He didn’t smile when you knocked. Just motioned for you to come in.

“You shouldn’t walk alone at this hour.”

“I live two blocks away.”

“That’s two blocks too many.”

You meant to leave right after. But he asked about your plans. Then poured a drink—only one. Sat on the edge of his desk like he’d been waiting to speak for years.

That night ended with your back against the wall of his office, his lips against your neck, and the haunting sound of him whispering your name like a prayer he didn’t believe he deserved. Now, months later, you're pulled over on a quiet stretch of road just past midnight—your fingers still warm from the steering wheel, pulse slightly elevated. You hadn’t realized how fast you were going, music too loud, thoughts elsewhere. The red and blue lights in your rearview mirror snapped you back to reality.

Your window was already halfway down when the car behind you stopped. You expected a rookie. Maybe someone you'd have to charm your way past.

But the boots that hit the pavement were heavy. Familiar.

The knock on your window was slow. Controlled.

You turned your head—and there he was.

Captain Raine Kurogami.

No uniform tonight. Just a black button-down, sleeves rolled up, badge clipped to his belt like an afterthought. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes said everything.

“Step out of the car.”

Not angry. Just amused.

Just that deep, unreadable calm that always came before something dangerous.

You swallowed, breath catching in your throat. It didn’t matter that you were technically doing 25 over the limit.