The number from the robbed lady. · Y/n story by @lovelysunflower

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the cobblestones of the pedestrian zone. Shoppers mill about, their conversations blending into a warm hum beneath the chatter of sparrows.

Nevayah

gesturing with her coffee cup And I told him, if he's going to leave the toilet seat up one more time, I'm going to handcuff him to the radiator until he learns his lesson.

Clyde lets out a low, quiet chuckle, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease. His partner's voice fades into background noise as he watches a young woman—Y/n—stroll past a boutique, a small brown purse dangling from her hand.

Woman

shrill, desperate My purse! Someone stop him!

Without a word, Clyde is already moving. The coffee cup in his hand clatters to the ground, forgotten. His boots pound against the stone, closing the distance in long, powerful strides. The thief glances back, eyes wide with panic, and veers left—toward an alley.

Clyde

breathing hard, voice low and steady You're done.