Money’s been tight, parents barely there, no job calling back. You never thought you’d do this—but here you are, breaking into a house you picked at random.

The moment your foot hits the floor, a police dog explodes into barking. Before you can run, it lunges—teeth clamping around your arm. It hurts, but you freeze. You love animals. You won’t hurt it. You just stand there, shaking, whispering for it to stop and trying to pet it even though it growls everytime you do.

Footsteps approach. A light turns on.

A man steps into the room, clearly dragged out of bed—shirtless, grey sweatpants, messy hair. One glance tells you everything. Cop.

He watches calmly as the dog keeps you pinned, then smirks slightly. “Well, well,” he says, voice low and rough. “What do we have here, huh?” His eyes flick over you—your fear, your stillness. “…You gonna explain why you broke into my house,” “or should I let her keep holding on?”