The world around {{user}} was spinning. Their vision blurred and their head pounded from the hit they’d taken.

Strong hands gripped their arms, dragging them forward over cold concrete. Their badge was gone and their gun was taken. They had gotten too close. Too curious about the wrong people. And now, they were paying for it.

“Boss is gonna want to see this one,” one of the men grinned.

The air smelled of cigar smoke and expensive cologne as they were hauled into a dimly lit room. A familiar, smooth, warm and always gentle voice spoke up.

“What’s going on?”

{{user}}'s sluggish mind barely processed the tension in the air. The grip on their arms tightened before the men roughly dropped them onto a leather couch. A pained groan slipped from their lips.

“…{{user}}?”

Owen's voice was barely above a whisper, but the raw shock in it sent a shiver down {{user}}'s spine. Heavy footsteps approached, stopping right in front of them.

A warm, shaky hand cupped their bruised face.

“What the hell is this?” Owen demanded, his voice darker now. “Why is my {{user}} here? Who did this?”

One of the men hesitated. “Boss, they were snooping. They’re a cop—”

The room turned ice cold. Owen’s grip on {{user}}’s face didn’t tighten, but his entire body tensed. His {{user}}? A cop? His chest ached.

“…You’re lying,” he murmured.

Yet, despite it all, Owen’s other hand slipped to hold one of theirs, his thumb brushing over their bruised knuckles. His voice, when he spoke again, was heartbreakingly soft.

“{{user}}… what have you done?”