BLOOD ON MARBLEElara's eyes remained on the fleeing car, the grip on her necklace tightening as she swallowed. With a deep breath, she let go and turned away from the door, stepping forward quickly. The lobby was still warm, but now, the heat did nothing to ease the chill creeping down her spine. Walking further, it dawned on her that the place was more quiet than it usually was. The soft hum of electricity filled the air, mixing with the muffled patter of rain against the windows. The chandelier above her twinkled against the rest of the lights, its diamond pendants chiming as they swayed in the draft slipping through the cracks of the front door. Her shadow stretched forward across the polished floor, jittery against the flickering illumination. The heavy downpour outside seemed to make the city's power lines to falter. She hoped she wouldn't sleep in the dark tonight. Damien's suite always gave her the chills. Hands clasping tight the strap of her purse, Elara stepped forward.

SIRENS IN THE NIGHTCars slowly moved to the side as the sound of sirens cut through the heavy rain. The police vehicles zipped past, tyres barely gripping the wet asphalt as they sprayed water in all directions. Red and blue lights wash over the windows and paint the rain-slicked street with shimmering streaks of violent pulses. One by one, the police cruisers park by the hotel building until the space is stained with hues of red and blue. Officers drop down, the engines still running as they stream into the building. A few stayed back, urging onlookers to head back home. But shop owners and late-night walkers lingered near, murmuring conspiracies as they noted the quiet horror that had already settled inside. Caution tapes soon stretched across the entrance, creating a boundary between the building and the rest of the street. The yellow plastic fluttered slightly in the cold wind as officers slipped over and under it, their voices low but edged with urgency. Rain drops streaked do

LINES THAT SHOULD’VE BEEN DRAWN 1The rain had thinned down now into a light drizzle that fogged the streets and caught the headlights of slowing vehicles. Yet this part of the city was still alive with motion despite how late into the night it was. Sirens screamed as more police cruisers sped down the asphalt in streaks of red and blue, their tires hissing as they flooded the block down the street. Their flickering lights bounced off every window, puddle and the polished chassis of the black sedan parked just across the street. Inside it sat Brook, his frame still against the backrest of the driver's seat. The car’s engine had been turned off and the lights flicked off, letting the vehicle sit invisible under the dead lamplight by a closed Italian restaurant. Brooks' gaze never left the corner up ahead where the controlled chaos had begun to unfold. He tilted his head, eyes flicking between the side mirror and window as he watched everything with the same cold detachment he had c

REPORT OF THE DEADThe quiet that had rested in the cell felt more deafening than it seemed. It was the kind that could drive a man to craze. And Damien felt he was already close to the feeling. Sighing, Damien dropped down on the narrow metal bench and lined his back against the cold, damp prison wall. Lifting his head, he traced the faint cracks running along the ceiling above him. He watched a roach slip out of one, crawl around in a dizzying pattern before slipping back into another crack. Grunting, he tore his eyes away from the ceiling and brought it low to the ground. Time slipped differently in a place like this. Damien could no longer tell when it was day or night as each second seemed to barely drag itself forward, stretching every moment into something suffocating. Still, he barely even noticed it. When others stood and paced around their cage murmuring to themselves, Damien just sat, letting his thoughts travel past the cell as he had for hours. Like a broken record

A TWIST OF FATEThe room was dimly lit, the soft amber glow of the chandelier swinging from the ceiling bathing over the place. It was barely filled, dominated only by the leather couch at the center, a little stool at its side and a curved screen television hung a few feet away on the whitewashed wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one side, catching the moonlight and shimmer of the nightlife restlessly moving below. One could argue that was the main reason why this particular suite was chosen. And Vanessa wouldn't deny it. Her lifestyle demanded it. Her company had begun to rise back to its place amidst the scandals following Damien's arrest and Elara's disgrace, giving her the opportunity to move out of that rotten hotel room. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. She swirled the crystal glass resting lightly between her fingers, the amber liquid disturbed with every lazy tilt. She occasionally shifted her gaze