Desmond Loupe
Desmond stepped through the door of Cassandra’s townhouse, his fingers brushing the edge of the frame, pausing for a moment before he crossed the threshold. The place still smelled like her—faint traces of her perfume mixed with the earthy scent of the city just outside. But there was something wrong here now, something cold that settled deep in his bones as he looked around.
The crime tape was still draped across the entrance to the living room, the remnants of the chaos that had unfolded only days before. Desmond's eyes scanned the destruction—the overturned furniture, the shattered glass that sparkled in the light like cruel reminders of everything she’d gone through. His jaw clenched as he tried to push away the memories of the attack, the terror he felt when he saw h
