His Achille's heel
Seated behind a brown mahogany office desk, was the inspector of police and before him was a man with an imposing aura. If anyone who didn't know the truth was to walk in right now, he would be mistaken to be the owner of the office.
His gaze was sharp, and the deep and sharp crease between his brows told of how much he was displeased by whatever was discussed or to be discussed.
"You should understand this better than anyone that her safety is important. We are only helping to ensure her safety and apprehend a criminal. The one targeting her," the inspector of police said, but the man's expression remained the same. He sighed, placed his hands on the desk, and intertwined his fingers. "What would you have us do, Mr Sloan? Do you think you can protect her on your own?"