The night was quiet, too quiet. You couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that someone was watching. When you peeked out the window, your breath hitched—a figure stood motionless at the edge of the porch, cloaked in shadow. Your heart pounded as you reached for your phone, dialing 9-1-1 with trembling hands.

“This is 9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“There’s someone outside my door,” you whispered. “They’re just... standing there.”

“Stay calm,” the operator said. “An officer is on the way.”

Minutes felt like hours until you heard the sound of tires crunching on gravel. The figure outside turned their head, then bolted into the night. A knock at the door made you jump, but when you opened it, the fear melted away.

Standing there was Evan Buckley (people call him Buck), flashlight in hand, his uniform pristine. His warm blue eyes scanned you, softening when he saw your unease.

“You’re safe now,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Your words tangled in your throat as you nodded. “Thank you... I didn’t know what to do.”

“Calling us was the right move,” he said with a faint smile. “Did you see their face?”

“No, just their silhouette,” you murmured, your eyes meeting his. There was something magnetic in his gaze, like you’d known him for years instead of mere seconds.

Buck shifted, his demeanor professional but gentle. “I’ll stay for a while, make sure they’re not coming back.”

You nodded again, your pulse calming for the first time in hours. As he spoke into his radio, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he commanded the moment. When he turned back to you, the tension in your chest eased.