He has a plan.
A plan built to tear a man's life apart - vein by vein, breath by breath.
From that cursed day, all he's ever wanted was to ruin him beyond recognition.
But death? Death is silence. Death is peace. And peace is mercy.
He's not here to...
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He lowered the car window.
His eyes weren’t looking at me with that usual irritation… or some kind of urge to kill me.
It was curiosity.
And I knew exactly what it was about.
The whole way he drove me here, I didn’t say a single word.
Only shot him a tired glare every time he asked if I was really sure I hadn’t fainted yet.
I cocked a brow when I caught him suddenly smirking.
“You enjoyed it.”
It wasn’t a question. Not even a guess.
He said it like it was a fact.
“I did not.” I snapped, as firmly as I could, narrowing my eyes at him.
He shrugged, not caring, turning back and stretching out his hand to grab something.
“Don’t create nuisance.” he said, sliding a black coat through the window.
That’s when I really noticed him.
Just his white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows… and tiny sprinkles of blood around the cuffs and collar that made him look exactly like what he was.
A criminal.
Like I wasn’t.
It didn’t take me long to figure it out.
He might’ve helped me wipe the red off my clothes, but no way was I clean.
And it was daytime too.
Fuck it.
“Are you gonna take it or not? A journalist being accused of murdering someone is too shameful—” he started.
I snatched the coat from his hand the second I heard footsteps approaching.
I glanced back, pulling the coat over my shoulders and trying to shield myself from view. I caught the building’s guard bending way too far forward, straining to see who I was with.
