Benedict stared in shock at his apartment door, which was still standing wide open after Isaac had fled the flat.
In the past fifteen minutes, so many things had gone wrong that he couldn't even say which had been the worst.
The attempted kidnapping he hadn't reported at Isaac's request?
The sudden panic attack after the choker had come off?
That massive scar on Isaac's neck?
Or the irreversible fact that Benedict had kissed him?
Absentmindedly, he touched his lips.
Isaac's mouth had been just as soft as he had always secretly imagined. If the panic attack hadn't happened — the salty taste of tears, Isaac's frantic breathing, and finally his hasty escape — then that moment might have been perfect.
Maybe.
Benedict pressed his lips together. He could have simply confessed his feelings to him in a calm moment, but unfortunately life had once again decided to play by its own rules.
"Shit…," he muttered quietly.
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. He hated himself for it. Not only had he taken advantage of the situation, he had also kissed Isaac in his own apartment. Right here, where he could still feel Dan's presence.
Benedict shook his head as if he could physically shake off the memory. Now was not the time to get lost in it. He needed to think about what to do next.
Should he run after Isaac?
Stupid idea.
Even if he wanted to be there for him — after that kiss, Isaac definitely wouldn't want to see him. At least not today. Still, worry gnawed at him. Had Isaac even made it home safely? Had he managed to calm down? Or was he sitting somewhere alone, still struggling to breathe?
Benedict shot to his feet.
What if Isaac was still hyperventilating? What if he collapsed somewhere — and those guys from earlier found him?
He forced himself to take a slower breath. Isaac's apartment wasn't far away. And just now he had still been able to stand on his own two feet. The likelihood that—
He cut the thought short, grabbed his phone, and dialed Isaac's number.
While it was ringing, Benedict found himself holding his breath. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, growing heavier and more insistent with each ring.
Isaac didn't pick up.
A dull feeling spread through his chest. Quickly, Benedict typed a message before he could change his mind. At the same time, he stepped to the door and finally pushed it shut, as if the open apartment was making him uneasy.
Benedict
Can you let me know when you get home?
I'm worried.
Isaac's reply came without hesitation.
Isaac
Yes.
Stop it.
Benedict exhaled slowly.
By now, he knew that Isaac couldn't make even simple sentences sound friendly — and yet there was something reassuring in the quick reply. At least he was conscious. At least he was texting.
Relieved, Benedict sank onto the couch and ran a hand through his hair again while his gaze lingered on the screen.
If Isaac was answering, he had to be okay enough that Benedict didn't need to panic immediately.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he typed again.
Benedict
I'm here anytime if you need me.
Isaac
Ok.
He stared at the screen, letting the messages sink in. Only then did he realize how tense he had been. The situation had affected him more than he'd been aware of.
Benedict had seen more than enough in his life — ugly scenes, operations spiraling out of control, people on the verge of breaking down. But rarely had anything gotten under his skin the way this thing with Isaac had. At least when it came to a single person.
He leaned back.
When he felt something hard against his back, Benedict frowned in irritation and reached behind him. His fingers closed around leather.
Isaac's choker.
For a moment, Benedict simply stared at the black band, as if his brain needed time to catch up. Isaac had forgotten it and left it behind. Benedict could hardly believe that the choker hadn't just been a fashion accessory, but also a kind of shield for Isaac.
Slowly, Benedict turned the choker between his fingers.
Suddenly, so many things made sense to him.
His distance toward others. His withdrawn nature. And all those strange reactions that had shown Benedict more than once how little Isaac mingled with people. He avoided them. Benedict now understood why Isaac didn't recognize attempts at closeness for what they were and felt uncomfortable when people looked at him.
It wasn't just because of his appearance, but also because of the scar.
Benedict gripped the leather tightly. Cold anger rose inside him.
He wanted to know who had done that to Isaac. Had the person been caught? Were they still alive? Or were they dead? The scar had looked old — it must have been years since he'd gotten it. His thoughts churned as he went through the cases he had worked on and heard about over the past years. But nothing came to mind that might fit.
Not even when he thought more broadly about the cases that had been handled at the precinct. He wasn't familiar with every case, but a victim who survived having their throat cut would have been something people talked about.
His jaw tightened.
Whoever it had been — someone had tried to kill Isaac. The scar had been quite long and deep. Isaac had been incredibly lucky to survive such a wound.
Isaac…
The more Benedict learned about him, the more new layers of secrets seemed to unfold. Nothing about him was as simple as it appeared on the surface.
Someone had tried to kill him.
And Benedict had the uneasy feeling that this was far from the whole story.
With a scar that size, in exactly that spot, it was a miracle Isaac was even alive — and hadn't suffered visible damage beyond the scar itself.
And then there were the gangsters who had first come into the café to threaten him and later tried to abduct him. His gut told him clearly that something wasn't right.
Why had someone tried to abduct Isaac? In the gangster milieu, there weren't that many possibilities.
In the circles Benedict moved in professionally, there were only a limited number of plausible reasons.
Isaac could have been in debt. But too many things argued against that. His apartment was tastefully and expensively furnished, not the improvised refuge of a man running from creditors. Besides, Isaac himself had mentioned that he did commission work. If he could make a living from it — and everything pointed to that — then he had to be paid well for it.
No. That didn't fit.
The next possibility: Isaac had seen something he wasn't supposed to see.
Benedict's gaze narrowed slightly. That sounded far more likely.
Or had he crossed the wrong person? At first glance, Isaac didn't seem like someone who actively sought conflict. On the contrary — he tended to avoid confrontation rather than provoke it. But his cool, often dismissive manner could certainly rub someone the wrong way. It wouldn't be the first time someone held a grudge out of wounded pride.
Benedict let out a quiet breath. That, too, wasn't unlikely.
And then there was the most unpleasant explanation.
Someone might have tried to abduct Isaac because of his appearance.
People with such pronounced albino features were rare — rare enough to attract attention in human trafficking. On the black market, he would likely fetch a considerable sum. Either that… or someone had intended to sell him onward. For purposes Benedict deliberately did not want to consider in detail.
His jaw tightened hard.
None of it was far-fetched. People had disappeared for far more trivial reasons.
The longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to find out about him.
Restless, he got up and began putting away the remaining bandaging materials, including the gauze soaked with Isaac's blood. With a sigh, he threw them away. If it were on police record that Isaac had escaped an attempted murder, it would be in his file. But Benedict had already run a background check and found nothing of the sort.
So when and where had it happened? In Magnolia, very little stayed hidden. Their clearance rate was quite high, and for years their surveillance network had been well established. Of course, there were exceptions — like those annoying phantom thieves — but eventually everything came to light.
Benedict paused. Which meant that the case had very likely been covered up — and there were not many who had the power and the means to do exactly that.
Of course, only if it had actually happened here in Magnolia.
Isaac could just as well have moved here at some point. He would run another full check on him. His conscience nagged at him. He didn't want to suspect Isaac of anything. Strictly speaking, he wasn't suspecting him. He wouldn't even know of what. But the truth interested him.
You just want to find out everything about him because it distracts you.
Benedict's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
He hated it when his mind kicked in like that. How often had he struggled because his head, heart, and gut were at odds?
While his head argued with logic, his heart countered emotionally that he had fallen in love with Isaac and that everyone was entitled to their secrets. But his gut wasn't swayed at all. His instincts told him something about Isaac wasn't right. He just didn't know what yet. Unfortunately, his head agreed — his gut feeling had been right more than once in the past.
Benedict stopped and rubbed his face again, visibly stressed. He rubbed his tired eyes and let out an irritated groan.
What the hell was he doing?
He should talk to Isaac first. Maybe he would tell him what had happened — without immediately panicking. With a bit of luck, Isaac might even open up to him on his own. Maybe he even wanted to talk about it.
Benedict just had to be careful not to let the cop in him take over. Especially at the precinct — otherwise he wouldn't just run a full background check, he'd start digging through old case files and questioning every hospital about such an incident.
That wouldn't be easy.
The situation was stressing him out, and unfortunately stress always drove him toward work. Isaac didn't deserve that. Benedict liked him far too much to treat him like a suspect. If Isaac returned his feelings, he didn't want anything standing between them.
He had a secret or two himself — so why shouldn't Isaac have some as well?
For the moment, Benedict decided to ignore his gut feeling and continued tidying up. He needed some kind of distraction. But when he finished, he still felt restless. His gaze fell on the choker. Unconsciously, he picked it up, his thoughts drifting again as his mind searched for a way to get Isaac to tell him what had happened.
His curiosity was getting the better of him.
So how was he supposed to go about it? How could he bring it up without triggering another panic attack? He had witnessed the trigger firsthand. And the thing that concealed it was in his hands.
Did Isaac have a replacement? Maybe he should have it repaired. It was a high-quality choker, and since Benedict had never seen the scar before, it must have fit perfectly without causing Isaac any trouble breathing. Benedict was fairly certain it was custom-made.
He turned the choker and examined the clasp.
The clasp had been torn off, and the links the hook fastened to were missing. He made a mental note to go to a jeweler after his shift so a new clasp could be attached. The accessory itself didn't seem damaged — the situation would likely look different if it were made of another material.
Without further hesitation, he grabbed the accessory and left his apartment.
Maybe there was someone who could repair the clasp.
___
Isaac hadn't contacted him, nor had he shown up at the café that morning.
Benedict had expected that. Still, it had been sobering. He wanted to see Isaac. He wanted to see that he was okay. If he could just have one look into his cool, composed face, the storm inside him would surely have calmed.
And maybe his guilty conscience as well.
Contrary to what he had intended, he had gone over everything concerning the man named Isaac Walker once more. Nothing was known about him before he moved into his apartment in Magnolia at the age of sixteen.
Like anyone else, he had applied for his ID at sixteen. He paid his bills, and there was nothing noteworthy in his police record. Benedict had already known that much. About his parents, only this was known: Isaac was their only son, and at some point they had moved away from Magnolia — in the same year Isaac had settled into his apartment.
His gaze hardened slightly.
A sixteen-year-old living alone in an apartment was unusual — but not unprecedented. Over the course of his career, Benedict had seen enough complicated family situations to know such arrangements did happen. Maybe Isaac had simply not wanted to go with them. Maybe it had something to do with the friend he had mentioned.
Maybe.
Benedict leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment.
If he at least knew what year Isaac had suffered the injury, he could search more precisely and make targeted inquiries. But right now, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
It frustrated him.
Not only because he was digging into Isaac's past without his consent, but also because he was too much of a coward to simply call him and clear up the matter of the kiss.
By now, two pages of his notebook were filled with information about Isaac, and he had had to force himself to stop.
By now, he was sitting at his desk with his cold coffee, staring at the choker he had had repaired the day before.
"Should I be worried about you, Ben?" Jasper suddenly asked behind him.
Benedict turned toward the voice. Jasper held out a coffee from Café Noir. Gratefully, Benedict took the cup.
"Why would you?"
"Because you're staring at sex toys. And right here in the precinct," Jasper replied, one brow raised.
Benedict exhaled in annoyance. "If this were a sex toy, I certainly wouldn't be carrying it around openly."
Jasper sat down beside him. "Then what is it?"
"Just an accessory."
Jasper took a sip from his own coffee cup. Benedict could clearly smell the caramel syrup and immediately made a face.
"And? Changing your style, or does it belong to someone?" Jasper asked curiously. "Sorry, but I don't think it would suit you."
"It belongs to Isaac."
Jasper's eyes widened in surprise. "The pretty albino?" Then he leaned forward with undisguised curiosity, a grin playing on his lips. "Why do you have it? Did you two…?"
"We did not," Benedict said, slightly annoyed. He rubbed his eyes. "Don't be so nosy."
"Too late," Jasper replied without the slightest remorse. "So? Why do you have it?"
"Because it broke and he forgot it at my place," Ben answered.
He didn't need to rub it in that Isaac had forgotten it because he'd had a panic attack.
"He was at your place?" Jasper asked, surprised. "Wow, you really seem serious about him."
Benedict's mouth twitched faintly. "If it were up to me, yes. But I still don't know if he feels the same way."
"I thought you wanted to meet up with him."
"It's still in the works," Benedict waved off absently. Thoughtfully, he stared at the choker as if the accessory could give him all the answers he was looking for.
Then Jasper leaned forward slightly. "Okay, Ben. What's going on? You're sitting here like a miserable wreck, staring at that thing like it personally offended you."
Benedict pressed his lips together.
"Maybe I did something I shouldn't have," he finally said quietly.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really."
A brief moment of silence.
Then Jasper shrugged. "Suit yourself." He tapped his fingers once on the desk. "Maybe this will distract you a bit — there's work."
Benedict's gaze lifted immediately. "The phantom thieves?"
"Nope. We're not getting anywhere with them right now," Jasper said dryly. "We have to wait until they stir up trouble again."
He placed a file on the desk in front of Benedict.
"Domestic dispute followed by a double suicide. The assigned officer knew them personally and is out. I want you to take over. Forensics just finished."
Benedict's focus switched — gratefully — from personal chaos to professional precision.
"The bodies haven't been transported yet. I told them to wait until you've looked everything over."
"Got it," Benedict replied.
He stood, drained his cold coffee in one gulp, then stuffed the file, notebook, tablet, and phone into his backpack and headed for the door.
"I sent the address to your phone!" Jasper called after him.
"Thanks!"
At least now he had something to occupy himself with. He had decided to ignore his gut feeling about Isaac for the moment — but it remained stubborn.
Briefly, Benedict considered whether he should text him after all — maybe carefully ask about meeting up. The matter of the kiss still hung between them like a taut wire.
But the thought of settling that topic over messages felt wrong.
So he would wait until they saw each other again.