Victor lay on the hard, narrow cot, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of his prison cell. The thin blanket was threadbare and provided scant comfort against the biting chill of the night. The buzzing of mosquitoes supplied a steady background hum that prevented him from sliding into the sleep he so desperately needed. He swatted at one that landed on his arm but knew it was useless. They had always come back, always found a way to harass him.But the mosquitoes were not the only things that kept him awake tonight. Tomorrow was the day he had been waiting for—the day that finally he would be free. Years of incarceration, and the thought of freedom washed him in a wave of happiness, even in that restless night. With a happy sigh, a rare smile curled at the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes, trying to picture what it would look like outside of those walls: not having to feel the cold concrete beneath him or the bars that kept him enclosed.The sounds of the prison at night were famili

The air was thick with tension as the police swarmed the room, their movements precise and practiced. One officer approached Charles cautiously, gun trained on him, while another swiftly retrieved the bloodied knife from the floor, bagging it as evidence. Charles barely resisted as they forced him to the ground, cold metal cuffs clicking around his wrists. His face remained a mask of resignation, a broken man caught in a nightmare of his own making.Stephen stood frozen, shock and disbelief still coursing through him. His mind struggled to process everything—Victor’s lifeless body, Charles’s betrayal, the arrival of the police. It all felt like a blur. An officer stepped toward him, speaking in firm, clipped tones, but Stephen barely registered the words. He didn’t resist when they cuffed him, his eyes locked on Victor’s body as the paramedics zipped it into a black body bag.As the body was wheeled out, Stephen felt a hollow ache in his chest. Victor had been his last connection to t

The footsteps upstairs became louder, and Charles began to pound. The officers coiled, poised to pounce. Out from one of the darkened corners, a small black cat emerged. Its eyes glinted as it slinked down the stairs, and at that moment, the tension in the room broke like a dam as relieved glances passed from one officer to another. "It's just the cat," one mumbled, the edge in his voice softening as he sheathed his weapon. A second officer, edging his way along the wall toward the staircase, relaxed his posture, a grin tugging at his lips. That was the opening Charles needed to force a nonchalant shrug. "What did I tell you? She isn't here," he said, keeping his tone steady, though inside, a flood of relief crashed through him. Yuna was safe, at least for now. "Fine. But we're taking you outside. If we find out you've been lying…" He pushed roughly at Charles's back toward the door, leaving the threat hanging. They were all leaving the mansion, when one officer—a younger, more

With each ever-nearing step to Yuna, Ariane's heart pounded so hard, and her mind swirled so quickly in confusion and disbelief, "Yuna," she hissed lowly, glaringly, "where you are doing this from?"In the morning light, the slight form of Yuna appeared even more delicate; her clothes looked as if they belonged to someone else, hanging on a person who was not there. Yet there was something in her eyes that was resolute: a quiet, unyielding strength, really not in keeping with her frail look. "I need your help, Ariane," said Yuna, her voice firm but shaking.Ariane almost laughed; the sound that passed her lips was harsh and unbelieving. "Why would I help you?" she demanded, scathing now, in her bitterness. "You're just a dirty little thing—always in the way. Why do you keep coming back?"Yuna winced at the jab, but she didn't retreat. Her eyes clung to Ariane's, desperation in their intensity. "I have to talk to Mrs. Marriane," she persisted, her voice a little more steady now, though

Marriane drove through the city streets, her mind racing as fast as the car beneath her. It was dark, and the night was light only from the streetlamps, flickering as she went by them. The grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles white. She just had to know what Clarke wanted and had to do it now.But when she reached the car park, it was ominously quiet. The lot was practically empty; the few cars that were around were strewn about like lost antiquities. She parked the car in one spot, turned off the engine, and stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against her skin.Clarke stood near the edge of the filthy lot, his body outlined by the dull light like a shadow. Mariann squinted her eyes, pupils lessening in diameter, as she walked closer, her heels tapping the ground in individual thunks of the blistering asphalt."I thought we agreed no more meetings," she snapped, voice chillingly low. "What the hell are you doing here?"Clarke lifted his hands into the air