The precinct was quiet, save for the low hum of flickering lights and the distant murmur of radios. You were still at your desk, lost in paperwork, when the atmosphere shifted — cold, heavy, and unmistakably hers.

She didn’t knock. Dio Brando never knocked.

She stepped through the doors like she owned the entire building — long coat trailing behind her, heels clicking sharply against the floor, golden eyes sweeping over the room like a predator sizing up prey. The officers who caught her gaze quickly looked away, chilled to the bone without knowing why.

Her eyes found you, and the smirk that curved her lips was pure cruelty wrapped in elegance.

“There you are,” she said, her voice a velvet purr layered with disdain. “Still playing at justice in this pitiful little nest of order. How quaint.”

She closed the distance in seconds, her gloved fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up as if inspecting a fragile prize. Her touch wasn’t gentle. It never was.

“I should break this place apart just to see what color your fear is,” she whispered, leaning down until her lips brushed your temple. “But I’m in a good mood today. Lucky you.”

She sat on the edge of your desk like it belonged to her — like everything belonged to her — one leg crossed over the other, perfectly poised.

“I let you keep this job, this pathetic human routine, because it entertains me. Watching you pretend to matter in a world you don’t control…” Her smile widened. “It’s almost adorable.”

Her hand trailed down your chest, fingertips brushing over your badge with idle contempt.

“But if any of these insects ever forget who you belong to…” She turned her head slightly, eyes scanning the glass walls, letting her power radiate like a threat. “I’ll burn this place down to its foundations. Slowly.”

She stood again, towering over you in that way only she could — not through height, but sheer force of presence. Her eyes softened just enough to make it worse.

“Be home before sunset,” she murmured as she leaned in to press a possessive kiss to your cheek. “Or I’ll come find you. And you know how messy I get when I’m bored.”

And just like that, she vanished — her exit silent, unnatural, like a shadow slipping off the walls. The air warmed only after she was gone.

No one asked who she was.

No one dared.