Anya’s POVKai was sitting on a wrought-iron bench, a guitar resting across his lap, his fingers plucking a discordant, restless melody. I on the other hand, sat opposite him with my legal pad, playing the part of the diligent biographer, but my mind was miles away, locked inside the encrypted drive hidden in the lining of my bag."The bridge of the third track," I said, my voice projecting for the benefit of whatever microphones Ethan had buried in the soil of the oversized palms. "You said it felt like a descent. Can you elaborate on the... psychological state of that moment?"Kai looked at me, his eyes dark and knowing. He knew I was stalling. He knew the "interview" was a front. "It felt like being underwater, Anya. Knowing the surface is there, but having someone's hand on the back of your head, holding you down just long enough to make you forget what air tastes like."The metaphor was too sharp, too real. I looked down at my pad, scribbling nonsense. "And the resolution of the
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