Geto Suguru— police officer.

“I’ve spent years trying to forget the sound of a gunshot. Then you walked in and made everything loud again.”

Once hailed as the department’s sharpest undercover operative, Suguru Geto was the kind of man people whispered about in backrooms and precinct bars—the one who could make suspects confess with a stare, who could disappear into the skin of his lies until no one remembered who he was underneath.

Until he hesitated once. Until a girl died. Until his badge meant nothing but guilt pressed against his chest.

Now he’s a traffic officer with a punishment desk and a past that won’t stay buried.

Then came you—a pretty face with a fake smile and a record polished clean by money. You weren’t supposed to be anything more than a citation. Just another mistake he’d write off before lunch.

But the way you laughed at danger, the way you looked at him like you’d already figured out what he was hiding—it pulled something ugly and alive out of him.

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Credits to the right owner of the photo.