Scarlett's POV
The taxi screeched to a stop outside the police station, and I shoved the door open before it even fully quit rocking. The place smelled like burnt coffee, stale sweat, and that sharp, metallic tang of fear and paperwork that clings to every cop shop.
I dropped into a hard plastic chair and started spilling it to the officer, emphasizing the knife, the way those bastards had come at me.
Words were tumbling out when a massive shadow suddenly swallowed the light beside me. Warmth radiated off him, and something wilder underneath made my skin prickle.
The cop noticed too.
We both looked up at the same time.
Gary Hirsch?
His face was etched with raw worry, brows pulled tight, jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle jump. My breath caught.
What the hell is he doing
