City of Kinetics

THIRTY ✴ Interrogation

       They had separated them.

       Mila's heart thumped wildly in her chest as she sat alone in a small, grey room. Her hands were in front of her, handcuffed to the middle of the table as she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

       There was a single fluorescent light above her and a pane of glass across from her, one that she knew was a two-way mirror. She let out a shaky breath as she fidgeted with her fingers and scratched at her cast. The room was just like she had seen in the movies, cold, lonely, and terrifying.

       Even though there wasn't a clock, Mila was sure that it had been a while since they left her in there. She wondered how everyone else was. Were Hunter and Jason alright? Where had they taken Leila? Was Evelyn in any trouble since she had been caught with them?

       Mila chewed on her lip anxiously, her gaze landing on the grey table that her arms were resting on. She pulled on her handcuffs despite knowing that she wasn't going anywhere.

       When the door suddenly opened, her head snapped up and she straightened her back, her eyes going over a man and woman who had stepped inside. Both of their faces were unreadable.

       Mila watched as they both took a seat in front of her, the sound of their chairs scraping against the floor making her wince. The man put a small recording device on the middle of the table, one that looked familiar to the one Jason had used back when she first met them. He clicked a button, and she knew that it was now recording.

       The woman had a case file in her hand. She flipped it open and her eyes went over one of the papers.

       "You're Camila Morales, correct?" she asked.

       Mila felt her throat go dry and she swallowed hard.

       "Yes," she said, her voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

       "Do you know why you're here?" the woman asked, her sharp eyes moving to meet hers.

       Was this the part where she asked for a lawyer? Should she even answer their questions? Mila knew she had rights, but in that moment, she felt completely helpless.

       "You think I work for Psychotics," Mila guessed, glancing down at the table. "I don't."

       The man's lips were pressed into a thin line, clearly not impressed with her answer.

       "We have evidence that you worked under Travis Ruben," he said. "Security cameras from his bar place you there at least twice a week going down into The Hideout."

       Her heart fell and she looked at them. "I don't do that anymore."

       "You mean you stopped after we raided the place," the woman corrected, putting the file down on the table. "What exactly did you do for Mr. Ruben?"

       "I..." her voice suddenly decided to fail her, and Mila felt anxiety crawl up her throat as she tried to force the words out. "I just counted his money."

       The man cocked an eyebrow. "That's all?"

       She nodded. "I just needed extra cash to make my rent. I didn't go near the drugs."

       Mila felt stupid, then. Despite not actually doing anything illegal, she still worked for a known Psychotics dealer. She was on his payroll, and that was enough to charge her for being affiliated with a narcotics gang.

       "How long did you work for him?" the woman asked.

       "Six months," she whispered