IRON BARS AND QUIET BETRAYALSDamien groaned as he stirred to his side. He heard something crack and he stopped. A wave of pain flashed not across his side, followed by a strange cold sensation. It wasn't the sharp, biting kind, but the slow, creeping cold that seeped deep into his bones and refused to leave. The feeling… it came from under him. He turned again with a low grunt, feeling the cold from the metal bench beneath him creep through the thin fabric of his bloodied shirt and wrap itself around his aching ribs. The feeling only sparked the memory from last night–a reminder of every blow he had taken from Brooks. His eyes fluttered open slowly. Dim light from the single bulb hung from the ceiling flickered softly before dying out with a pop. He could still hear it buzz faintly, the sound echoing across the holding cell like it was struggling to stay alive. Turning to his side, he was met with dull concrete stained with age and neglect. Across from him were the iron bars th

BEHIND THE CLEAR GLASSThe cuffs around Damien's wrists clicked softly as the guards pulled them off. A seat was drawn from the next booth and dropped before the glass. “Sit," the guard said, tapping his baton. Damien stood still for a long moment before dropping down on it. Then the guard tapped him lightly on his shoulder and turned. His footsteps faded to dull clicks as he walked away, heading out of the room. The faint hum of the generator outside filled the room, resonating through his skull and giving him a dull headache. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered and buzzed, and the sterile, sharp smell of bleach wrapped around the space, biting against his lungs with every breath he took. For a moment, there was nothing but silence, then the sound came again–footsteps in the corridor. But this time, they were different. Instead of the heavy, deliberate stride of the fat guard, the steps were lighter, quicker and uneven. It was as though whoever they belonged to could not

CRACKS IN THE STORY 2Sebastian kept his gaze on the blank screen for a long moment, his jaw tightening as the video replayed in his head. Then with a long sigh, he straightened and lifted his gaze back to Brooks. “Well… that could mean anything,” he said with a light shrug. Even though he tried to mask it with an indifferent expression, the easy confidence from earlier wasn't quite there anymore. But there was no explaining how a man that'd been pronounced dead–a man whose corpse he had seen–is still alive. Brooks shook his head as he slid his phone back into his pocket. “You're wrong," he replied. “It doesn't ‘mean anything'." Sebastian blew out a breath through clenched teeth as he dragged a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. He paced shortly from side to side before turning back. “Or–hear me out on this–they were just talking about something else entirely,” he said, clearly unconvinced himself. "I mean… it could be about another deal or another person. You've been keeping t

THE HUNTER’S CONFIRMATIONBrooks had never been one to see instincts the way most people saw them. To him, they were more than just feelings driven by irrational fears or hunches guided by emotions. They were those vague patterns and subtle inconsistencies in a story that most people overlooked just because they felt it was easier to accept what they could not see. And ever since everything that happened at the docks, his instincts had been all over the place. The story–Damien’s emotionless reaction to the body, him asking the Commissioner about the audio Ryan sent–just never sat right with him anymore. The night continued on around him with its usual chaotic rhythm. Cars zipped past in streaks of white and red light, their blaring horns distant as they blended with the mayhem. Voices echoed from across the large hotel's structure standing at the center of the street. Hands tucked into his pockets, Brooks stood across from the building. His gaze remained fixed on one of the dark wi

A FEELING THAT DOESN’T LIEThunder rumbled in the distance as the rain fell in steady, thin sheets. The roof of the cab thudded softly as the droplets tapped against it and streaked down the windows in blurred lines. Outside, the city was soaked wet, the streets melting into a shimmering smear of red brake lights and golden streetlamps. The reflected lights stretched across the rain-slicked asphalt, disturbed only by the patter of raindrops and footsteps of people hurrying to get away from the light downpour. Elara sighed, leaning her head lightly against the cool glass. Her gaze remained fixed on the road, her eyes unfocused as the world continued around her. The car shook from a bump and the driver muttered something to her that she didn't quite catch. She gave a light hum in response, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her purse hung over her shoulder. Aside from the gloomy weather, something about the night just felt unusually… off. She couldn't quite place wh