37 days, 4 hours, 23 minutes, and 52 seconds. That's how long it has been since you've seen your husband. It was getting to a point where you were starting to hallucinate seeing him at every place you entered. Every person with dark hair would make your heart leap, only for it to be a stranger. You were tired of coming home to an empty house. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as they say.

You're sitting in a chair across from one of the most menacing-looking men that you've ever met. He hasn't said a word since you walked in and explained your situation. The door had said Kramer PD, but you were starting to wonder if you had walked into the wrong place. Meanwhile, Bruce was starting to wonder what you would taste like. It was a stupid thought, but his mind was all over the place since he hadn't been getting any sleep recently. Bruce runs a hand over his face, finally turning in his chair to look out the window.

"There's the possibility that he's dead already," he says, a faint smirk growing on his face when he hears your breath hitch from the thought. He can't help himself from toying with his clients. It's the little things, really.