Chapter 5: Truth or Threat?

“I think its late enough,” Atticus grumbles, sleep anchoring his words with the heft of exhaustion. “Any longer and I’m gonna pass out.” His eyes droop, fluttering them wide open. He sits slouched against the lime-green Victorian chair. A frail grip on his phone, the dim light of his screen reflects on his night-worn expression.

The entire room bathes a ebbing metallic glow. Streams of moonlight, sieved with silver fringes, spills through the expansive window beside him, creating meres of enchanted light. Whereas he resides in the shadows, besides his face, blackness

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