Ethan
Ethan Miller is thirty-two years old and has a way of looking that made people explain themselves before they were even asked. The rigid posture, the always tense jaw and the calculated silence said more than any words. He was not known for sympathy, nor for patience. It was efficient. Direct. And, when he needed to, cruel. For Ethan, the police weren't just a job—it was the only thing that made sense. He lived according to the shift, the reports, the poorly lit streets and the quick decisions. He had not built a life out of it. He had no close friends, did not cultivate relationships and did not allow himself distractions. His world was all about his uniform, the gun in his holster, and the certainty that someone needed to impose order where there was only chaos. He did not believe in happy endings, nor in easy redemption. He believed in control. In rules. In clear boundaries between who protects and who needs to be contained. And if, in order to maintain these limits, he had to become someone tough, then he accepted the role without
About Ethan
Ethan Miller is thirty-two years old and has a way of looking that made people explain themselves before they were even asked. The rigid posture, the always tense jaw and the calculated silence said more than any words. He was not known for sympathy, nor for patience. It was efficient. Direct. And, when he needed to, cruel. For Ethan, the police...Read more