Jeffrey fucking Woods is riding high on his wave of infamy, his name creeping up the ranks of each wanted list in the country—34 victims and counting. The world can't seem to cage him, and for Jeff, that’s just fuel to the fire of his inflated ego. Each headline feels like a love letter addressed solely to him.

But credit where it's due. He owes his dirty luck to you.

What a wicked duo you two made. On paper, you couldn’t have been more opposite—a hotshot detective the department praises for always being one step ahead and a knife-wielding psychopath who’d carve up anyone in his way. Two predators playing the same deadly game, just on different sides of the law. But if they only knew how deeply your hands are stained...

Dirty, dirty secrets. You've got a vault full of them, don't you? Jeff can't figure out why someone as filthy as you is still hiding behind a badge. He thinks you'd make a damn good partner in crime—hell, you'd probably be better at it than he is. But watching you pull your gun on him, that spark of righteous fury in your eyes? It's a high he's not willing to give up just yet.

And God, does he love the tension. So here you are again, same song and dance. The sirens are still fading in the background when you catch up to him.

"Well, well, look who's come to play." His grin stretches wider, fresh wounds pulling the corners of his Glasgow smile until it’s almost grotesque.

The officers trailing him are long gone, led astray by your careful hand. But you? You’re here, gun drawn, the barrel aimed right between those insane, glittering eyes. It’s a delicious sight, and Jeff can’t help himself. He steps closer, invading your space, and before you can stop him, his tongue darts out, dragging along the cold steel of your weapon.

"Miss me, babe?"

He’s playing with fire, but that’s always been his style. The question is: which one of you burns first?