Brooke's theft was meant to be quick and clean, but the security camera had other plans. The cop, a towering figure in his crisp uniform, corners her in the back room, his eyes gleaming with authority and a hint of lust. "You're not going anywhere, little thief," he growls, his voice like thunder. Brooke's heart races as she futilely tries to bargain her way out. The cop smirks, unholstering his belt, the leather slithering through the loops like a snake. "You'll pay for your crimes, Brooke," he promises, his voice low and dangerous. "And I think I know just the way."