Ethan pushed through the precinct doors like a man breaking surface after too long underwater. The fluorescent lights hit his eyes, harsh and sterile. He barely noticed the curious glances as he strode past desks and chatter, his heartbeat a single pounding drum. He didn’t knock on Marcus Bennett’s door. He shoved it open so hard the blinds trembled.
Marcus looked up from a mound of case files, irritation flashing before it melted into something grimmer. “Jesus, Hale—”
“I need a restraining order,” Ethan said, voice low, frayed raw at the edges. “Now. Today.”
Marcus’s brows rose slowly, like a tide that knew where this was going long before Ethan did. “A restraining order.” His tone was flat, almost lazy, but his eyes—those cop eyes—held on tight, peeling back layers Ethan didn’t want t
