MasukMelordyThe coffee shop looked harmless enough from the outside, with all the warm lights and gentle piano music drifting through the windows, but I didn’t step inside for a cup of comfort. I came here because the alley behind the building held the truth I was looking for, and someone in that shop had access to the street-cam. The owner knew it the moment he saw me. His shoulders tightened as if he’d been waiting for this exact conversation.“As I told you earlier,” he said before I even reached the counter, “I don’t hand out footage without a warrant.”I gave him a patient nod and shot him a soft smile. “This isn’t about procedure,” I replied, lowering my voice just enough for only him to hear. “This is about a murder that took place ten feet behind your store.”His mouth pulled tight when I said that. He glanced at the hallway leading to the back room and then at me again, torn between fear and the need to protect himself. “I can’t afford trouble with the cartel,” he muttered.“Neit
JulianI didn’t plan on walking back into the family business or the family that raised me, shaped me, and nearly ruined me. But there I was, standing in front of the tall glass doors before sunrise, watching my reflection stare back like it was waiting for me to flinch. I didn’t. Not this time. I’d spent long enough running from the wreckage of my family, hoping the distance alone would erase the stains. But it didn’t. And now Ethan was sinking badly. The gambling, the secrecy, the desperation… I recognized all of it too well.I couldn’t watch him drown in battles that I left behind. And I couldn’t pretend the company wasn’t falling apart at the seams. There were so many losses piling. Our reputation was slipping, and the rumors swirled in corners like smoke no one wanted to claim responsibility for. Someone needed to pick up the pieces before there were no pieces left.So I stepped inside the company that morning. The lobby felt colder than I remembered, too quiet for a place that u
ClintThe thing about panic is that it never hits all at once. It creeps in slowly, and quietly, like water slipping under a door. You don’t notice how deep you’re standing in it until your clothes are drenched and your lungs feel too tight. That’s what today felt like. A slow drowning.The moment I heard that Melordy pulled Savannah in for questioning again, I knew she suspected something. By the time afternoon rolled around, I was pacing my living room like a caged animal. Phone in hand and my mind racing in frantic circles.Melordy was too smart. Too intuitive. And Savannah… well, Savannah wasn’t built to lie, not like I needed her to. Not under this kind of pressure. After a while, I stopped pacing long enough to run both hands over my face, pressing hard as if I could squeeze the fear out of me. My breathing wouldn’t steady. My thoughts wouldn’t slow. The image of that damn blood on the floor, the mistake I made, the body I moved, it all kept looping.I was out of time. So I did
MelordyI had interrogated enough liars and defended most of them in court in my career to recognize the little tells. The nervous tic under an eye. The swallow that takes half a second too long. The darting glance toward the door, calculating escape before words even leave their mouth. Savannah didn’t give me any of those. And that was precisely why I didn’t believe her.People who lie out of guilt always fumble. But people who lie out of loyalty? They become calm. Too calm. Steady enough to unsettle even a seasoned detective.When she left the warehouse yesterday, she walked with a controlled determination, her shoulders were squared, her breathing was m deep, and her footsteps firm. That wasn’t the stride of someone who didn’t know anything. It was the stride of someone carrying the weight of a secret she refused to loosen her grip on. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.The soft confusion she’d tried to mimic when I mentioned blood on Clint’s property. The way she spoke with th
SavannahThough I kept telling myself I was fine, I couldn’t sleep much since Melordy’s call. She wanted to see me again, and my guess, it wasn’t for an apology. Somehow I felt she might have thought I knew something about Rafe’s murder. So even when I made my morning coffee and tried to read through my emails, my mind drifted back to Melordy’s face, the sharp scrutiny in her eyes, the way she never seemed to blink long enough for me to truly catch my breath. And Clint… God, if he knew I was being questioned again, he’d tell me to stay out of it entirely. But I couldn’t. Not when everything felt so close to unraveling.My phone buzzed just as I slipped my shoes on. I didn’t have to guess.The voice on the other end was clipped. “Savannah, this is Melordy. I need you to come in.”“I’m on my way,” I murmured, even though a part of me whispered that I should run the other direction.The drive to the warehouse felt longer than usual. When I pulled into the parking lot, my palms were damp
ColleenI’ve always believed that a person can feel two opposing truths at the same time. Standing inside the glass conference room today, pretending to take notes while my uncles spoke over each other, I realized I was living inside that contradiction. I looked composed on the outside, calm, agreeable, dutiful Colleen, but inside I felt like a stretched wire, humming with a tension no one else could hear.I shouldn’t have come back here. Not like this. But walking away immediately would have raised every alarm bell in this family, and I couldn’t afford that. Not when Savannah was counting on me. Not when I had finally started to understand the shape of the monster that raised me.So I stayed seated, nodding where I needed to, answering when called upon, and letting them believe I was slipping neatly back into the space they carved for me long ago.A puppet. A placeholder. A silent heir with a borrowed voice. But not this time.When the meeting ended, everyone filed out without sparin







