The Stop

POV: Sumi:

The blue lights carved sharp streaks across the dashboard. Sumi tried to steady her breathing, but Eli only leaned back, eyes half-lidded, almost bored.

“Watch,” he muttered. “She’s already made up her mind about me.”

Officer Ortega approached with clipped, heavy steps—broad-hipped, full‑busted, her Esmaran features set in hard lines. Her uniform strained subtly with each movement, but her posture stayed rigid, trained.

She nodded politely at Sumi.

Then she looked at Eli.

Instant suspicion.

Instant hostility.

“License and registration.”

Sumi handed the documents over. Ortega barely glanced at them.

Instead: “Ma’am… are you certain you’re safe with him?”

Sumi blinked. “Safe? Officer, he—”

“He fits the pattern,” Ortega continued flatly. “South Side. No clear employment. Wrong kind of confidence. They lean on women like you.”

Eli let out a quiet laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

Ortega’s hand twitched near her holster. “I didn’t ask for commentary.”

She stepped closer—too close—her eyes locked onto Eli like she expected him to explode.

“You look like trouble the moment I walk up,” she said tightly.

Eli tilted his head slightly.

When he spoke, the tone shifted—soft, low, steady.

Dangerous.

It wasn’t a question.

It wasn’t even a challenge.

Just a sentence that sank under the surface.

“I see it in your eyes. You don’t want control. You want to lose it. You want me—every part you keep pretending you don’t.”

Ortega’s jaw tensed.

Her breathing faltered for one beat.

She masked it with anger.

“So that’s how you talk to an officer?” Ortega snapped. “Out of the car. Now.”

Sumi lifted her hands slightly. “Officer Ortega, please—”

“Ma’am,” Ortega said sharply, “men like him get inside your head before you notice. They use charm. Confidence. Pressure.”

Eli smiled faintly, not kindly.

“Funny. You’re the only one using pressure.”

Ortega froze.

Just half a second.

But she felt it.

His next words slid in low, controlled:

“Feel that pulse racing? That’s not fear. That’s need. Let it take over.”

Her throat tightened.

Her hand fell to the door handle.

“I SAID OUT!” she barked — her hand already drawing her weapon, the barrel snapping upward to point straight at his chest.

Sumi’s breath collapsed in her throat, fear slamming into her as the gun leveled on him.

She yanked the door open. Eli stepped out slowly, deliberately, making her tilt her chin upward.

“Hands on the hood,” she snapped.

But her voice carried a thin crack.

Eli lifted his hands, easing into the position with unbothered confidence.

“Your eyes aren’t on my hands,” he murmured. “Even now.”

“Shut up,” Ortega said—too quick, too shaky.

“You’re reacting before you think,” Eli continued softly. “And you don’t know why.”

Her breath hitched.

Her fingers fumbled with the cuffs before clamping them around his wrists.

“Turn around,” she **** out. “Now.”

Eli did.

Slowly.

“But you want me in control,” he murmured. “You want it more than you admit.”

The words landed.

Hard.

She shoved him toward the cruiser—harder than protocol.

“Hands where I can see them,” she barked, now fully drawing her weapon, the barrel trembling just a hair. “Any sudden move and you’re done, do you hear me?”

Eli’s smile didn’t falter. He glanced over his shoulder at Sumi — calm, steady, utterly unshaken.

“It’s fine,” he said to her, voice low and smooth. “I’ve got this. Nothing rattles me. That’s what you love about me.”

Sumi’s breath hitched at how effortlessly he kept control — even with a gun pointed at him.

Ortega snapped the cuffs shut hard, almost frantic. “Move. To the cruiser. Now.”

“Ma’am,” she said to Sumi, fighting to collect herself, “please stay in your vehicle. For your safety.”

But her hand lingered on the cruiser door too long before she shut it.

And when she turned away—

her breathing was still uneven.

---

Sumi stayed frozen in the driver’s seat long after the cruiser door slammed shut. Her pulse hammered so loudly she could barely hear the passing traffic. The world narrowed to two figures moving away from her: Officer Ortega, rigid and overcompensating… and Eli, calm even with his wrists cuffed behind his back.

He didn’t look back in fear.

He looked back to reassure her.

That smile — small, unshaken, meant only for her — cut straight through her chest.

How is he so steady? So fearless?

Haruto would have been shaking.

Haruto would have apologized, begged, folded.

But Eli… Eli faced a drawn gun without flinching.

He didn’t shrink.

He didn’t break.

He guided the moment.

A hot shiver crawled down Sumi’s spine.

She gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Please… please let him be okay,” she whispered, voice shaking more than she wanted.

Her eyes followed them: Ortega practically dragging him, breath uneven, Eli towering behind her despite the cuffs, the tension between them sharp enough to taste

It took everything Sumi had not to open the door and run after him.

Why does this feel so wrong?

Why does this feel so… intense?

Her heart thudded painfully.

An intrusive thought hit her like a slap — shameful, hot, undeniable:

Why couldn’t Haruto ever be like that?

Why couldn’t my own husband handle pressure like him?

Why does Eli feel like the man I always wished I had?

She squeezed her eyes shut, horrified at herself.

But the truth pulsed anyway.

When she looked again, Officer Ortega was pushing Eli up against the police car…

…and Sumi’s stomach flipped.

Not with fear.

Not entirely.

But something far more dangerous.

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze across the distance.

Even cuffed — he looked in control.

Even pinned — he radiated strength.

Sumi… breathe… don’t let this get to you…

But she couldn’t pretend.

Not anymore.

The thought rose, raw and overwhelming:

“Please come back to me… Eli…”

Her own voice echoed inside her skull.

“…please… I need you.”

As Ortega shoved him toward the space behind the cruiser instead of straight into the back seat, Sumi’s breath caught. The officer glanced around, then pushed Eli out of her line of sight, disappearing with him behind the vehicle. Sumi could only see their shadows—close, tense, wrong. Ortega leaned in toward him, speaking fast, almost frantic. Eli straightened, towering even with his hands cuffed, his posture calm, dominant. For one horrible, thrilling moment, Sumi saw the officer drop on her knees, she could´t see her anymore. Sumi’s heart pounded. What is she doing? Why is she kneeling before him? Her imagination filled the gaps she couldn’t see… and it terrified her how much it affected her.

Sumi whispered — barely audible, terrified of the truth in it:

“I wish you were my husband…”

A trembling breath escaped her. God… I wish I could be her. Should I get out? Should I watch? Is he okay…?