Royal Blue - Command And Surrender

The rain lashed insistently against the windowpanes of Lola's Kensington apartment. It had been hours now. Hours since that text, its stark message a cold stone in her stomach. "Love you. O." He only sent it before stepping into the deepest dark. Responding to the worst of calls. She had promised herself that his job, an armed response officer with the Metropolitan Police, would not become a ghost in their home. But vows were daylit things. Nights like this stripped them bare, leaving only the cold architecture of fear.

Ever since that night at 'The Anchor', the blind date set up by their friends Mia and Tom, Owen had turned her world upside down. Her days no longer only consisted of artists with big egos, carefully curated playlists and coffee dates with Mia, but they had a new depth to them. On the precious nights she had him, he would show her the contours of this new shadowland. Just last night. The memory was a visceral stain: the cold floor biting her knees, the sheer scale of him above her, the clinical snick of the handcuffs. His cuffs. Command and surrender.

Only that now, she didn't know if he was okay. If he'd come home to her from that call. The rain bled down the glass, distorting the amber streetlights into smears of wet, diseased gold. Every minute was a raw nerve, stretched tighter. There was only one question on her mind: What if the man who taught her about shadows would eventually become one himself?