Grace swallowed. “Someone was trying to get in. At the back door."
Luke's jaw clenched so hard she heard his teeth grind.
“You…” She watched his face grow tight. “You were alone?” His hand tightened slightly on her shoulder—not hurting, just... holding. Like he needed the contact to stay calm. "You were alone.” It wasn’t a question.
For just a second, his eyes closed. His throat worked like he was swallowing something down. When he opened them again, he touched her face gently. “Hey,” he said quietly, voice dropping, all the sharp edges pulled back.
His eyes searched her face one last time, cataloging—no blood, no bruises, no fresh terror breaking through. “I just need to do some cop stuff now. Alright?”
Grace nodded.
Only then did he stand.
He turned to face Mercer and Sullivan, and the shift from concern to cop was immediate. Luke’s shoulders squared, every inch of him radiating authority.
"What did you find?" he demanded.
Sullivan cleared his throat. "Could've been an animal?—"
"It wasn't a fucking animal."
The profanity hung in the air.
Grace had never seen Luke lose his professional composure like this.
Mercer stepped forward, voice dropping. "Bennett. You need to step outside."
"No."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
"I'm not leaving." Luke's voice was flat, absolute. "Not until I know she's safe."
"She is safe," Mercer said. "We've cleared the scene. There's no one here."
"Right now," Luke snapped. "There's no one hereright now. What about in an hour? Two hours? When you're both back at the station and she's alone again?"
"That's not our?—"
Luke cut him off. His voice rose, sharp and uncompromising. "A woman called 911 because she heard someone trying to get intoher house. And you're standing here telling her it was probably a raccoon?"
Mercer's expression sharpened. “Why are you even here, Bennett?”
"Someone has already threatened her," Luke continued, voice rising. "And you think she's imagining things?"
Mercer's face flushed. "You don't give orders here, Bennett. You're not even supposed to be on this call."
"I don't care."
"You should," Mercer said coldly. "Because right now you're acting like?—"
He stopped himself.
But Grace knew the unspoken end of that sentence.
Like you're involved with her. Like she’s someone to you. Like she matters.
She didn’t. Not to Luke. She knew that.
