The live interview studio buzzed with tension under the harsh studio lights up above the participators as they both faced off each other. Cameras were positioned at every angle, with their red recording lights glowing like watchful red stars. Millions were tuned in worldwide, the stream counter was climbing steadily into the tens of millions. Everyone wanted to really know the truth. The moderator had stepped back, leaving only Nathan Rhodes and Dr. Elias Hawthorne facing each other across a simple wooden table.Nathan sat composed as always in his charcoal suit, with the thick bandages on his left shoulder hidden beneath the fabric. He had the same calm and unreadable expression as before. Across from him, Hawthorne still carried the same aura of strain, although he looked and dressed all polished, like a calm sea with a storm raging underneath. His tie was slightly crooked, with beads of sweat already forming on his forehead despite the air conditioning in the studio.The viewers

Icel was sitting rigidly in the crowded subway car, with her body pressed against the cold metal wall behind her, feeling like a block of ice, as the train rattled and swayed through the dark tunnels beneath the borough of Manhattan. There were fluorescent lights overhead flickering intermittently, casting harsh shadows on the faces of the other passengers packed around her. The air was thick with the smell of damp coats, with cheap perfume, and the faint metallic tang of the tracks that the train was running over. Every jolt of the train made her stomach twist tighter.She felt as though she was being choked by something, perhaps an invisible hand or so. She couldn’t breathe properly.Her hands were clenched so hard in her lap that her nails dug into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks on them. She kept her head down, staring at the dirty floor between her feet, but she could feel the numerous eyes on her. Or perhaps she was imagining it. She didn’t know anymore.Every televi

The holding facility in upstate New York was cold and gray. It looked like the kind of place built to strip people of dignity long before their trials even began, and long before there would be any chance for them to argue with the law.Nathan arrived alone. There were no security guards, or entourage. It was just him in a dark coat, his shoulder still stiff with the healing scar. The police had caught Icel Voss less than forty-eight hours after the murder, trying to board a bus in Pennsylvania with a fake ID and a duffel bag full of cash. She hadn’t even made it out of the Northeast.They brought her to an interview room with a thick glass partition. Nathan sat on one side, while Icel was led in on the other. She was handcuffed, with an orange jumpsuit hanging loosely on her frame, her hair unwashed and pulled back in a messy knot. Her once-perfect face looked hollow, with red eyes and a sunken face.She sat down with her eyes gardened, glaring at him through the glass like she h

Nathan had just reached the valet stand outside Le Bernardin, Gene’s hand was still lightly resting in his as they walked. She felt strangely protected as he gently pulled her with him. The night air was cool against his skin, even as he felt himself tensed up by the encounter. The city lights reflected off the wet pavement. It seemed as though there had been an earlier drizzle. He was already mentally halfway in his home. He was tired, and longed for nothing but to drop into the couch in his living room. But he still felt strangely peaceful after the quiet dinner with Gene. The ache in his shoulder was a dull throb now. It was manageable with the painkillers, but the weight of the past few weeks still sat heavy in his chest.He signaled the valet for the Maybach, ready to leave the evening behind. But behind him, a voice cut through the low hum of traffic and distant chatter of people in the background.“Rhodes.”Nathan stopped, frozen on his tracks.He recognized the tone instant

By morning the kitchen of the townhouse was filled with the smell of fresh coffee and toasted bread, with the slightly burnt smell of fried eggs lingering in the air. The kitchen in short smelled like a culinary heaven.Sunlight slipped through the tall windows in slants of gold, turning the wooden table almost golden, like it was some sort of magical artifact. Rhea stood at the counter in her simple maid uniform, pouring Nathan's favorite coffee into two mugs with careful, deliberate movements. Just the way Nathan liked it. Her hands were trembling ever so slightly. She had barely slept the night before over the dream he had.Nathan came downstairs a few minutes later, while he was still in his pajamas. His hair was messy and seemed a bit dusty. His eyes were heavy from another night of fractured rest. He paused in the doorway when he saw her coming in his way with the jars of coffee in her hands.“Morning, Rhea” he said quietly.Rhea turned to him, offering him a small, uncertain