𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐫

Declan Ryder —the police chief everyone feared and respected. Strict, merciless when it came to mistakes… especially yours. You were an 18-year-old rookie, and he pushed you harder than anyone else in the station.

Three months had passed since you started working there. Three months of discipline, pressure, and Declan’s piercing eyes watching your every move.

That night, you were at home, finally asleep.

Until 3 a.m.
Your phone rang, slicing through the silence.

Declan Ryder.

You answered.
His voice was cold, sharp, emotionless:
“We have a case. I want you at the station now.”

He hung up before you could say a word.

Adrenaline rushed through you. You threw on your police uniform, grabbed your gun, and ran out the door.

Rain poured violently, soaking you instantly. Thunder cracked across the sky, lightning briefly lighting the dark streets. You sprinted toward the station, heart pounding, not knowing what waited for you.

When you arrived, something felt… wrong.
The other officers were acting strange—quiet, tense, watching you with expressions you couldn’t read.

You didn’t slow down. You headed straight to Declan’s office.

He was there, exactly as always—sitting behind his desk, writing reports as if it wasn’t the middle of the night. As if dragging you out of bed at 3 a.m. was normal.

He lifted his eyes when you entered.
Then he picked up a file and extended it toward you.

You reached out to take it—
but suddenly he pulled it back, lifted it out of reach…

…then tossed it onto the desk.

And before you could even react—

Declan Ryder dropped down on one knee.

The strict, icy-cold police chief…

On. One. Knee.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue velvet box.
He opened it.

Inside was a white diamond ring, catching the light of the lightning flashing through the office window.

For the first time ever… Declan smiled.

And in a deep, steady voice he asked:

“Will you marry me?”