Chapter 116 CHAPTER 116
The Quiet Interrogation
“Start talking, Ayisha.”
The voice was sharp, male, and tired — the kind that had heard a hundred lies before breakfast.
Ayisha sat rigidly in the metal chair, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve as she stared at the mirrored wall in front of her. The room smelled faintly of burnt coffee and disinfectant. A single light hung above her head, humming.
Her throat was dry.
“I already told you everything,” she whispered. “I don’t know where he is.”
The detective was tall, broad shouldered, with greying hair and a pen that clicked too often, leaned forward. “You expect us to believe that? You met him at Deez Café this morning. You were there when the shooting happened.”
Ayisha’s lips parted, her voice breaking. “I wasn’t part of it! I didn’t even know he was coming!”
The second officer, a woman in a navy suit, crossed her arms and studied her. “Then why did we find your name in his call log five minutes before the chaos started?”
Ayisha opened her mouth, then shut it again. Her heart was racing so hard she could barely breathe. She wanted to scream that she didn’t call him, that Chloe had twisted everything but the words caught in her throat.
She glanced toward the door. “Can I have some water, please?”
Neither officer moved.
The man clicked his pen again. “Ayisha, you’re in a lot of trouble. The fire at Lady Bianca’s boutique, the café incident, the police chase — Ethan’s name is all over this, and yours is sitting right beside his.”
Tears burned behind her eyes. “I didn’t do anything,” she said softly.
The woman sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re young, Ayisha. You think these people care about you, but they don’t. They’ll leave you to rot while they run.”
Ayisha’s hands tightened into fists. “They’re not like that.”
The man gave a dry laugh. “Oh? Then where are they?”
The question hung in the air like a blade.
She looked away, silent. The truth was, she didn’t know. She hadn’t heard from Tessa. Ethan had vanished. Even Ares hadn’t picked her calls. The only person who had shown up at the station asking for her was Chloe.
And even that didn’t feel right.
The door opened with a soft creak, and a uniformed officer stepped in. “Detective? Someone’s here for her.”
The man frowned. “Who?”
“Says her friend. Miss Chloe.”
Ayisha’s stomach turned.
The detectives exchanged a look. The woman sighed. “Fine. Ten minutes.”
The man rose, collecting his notebook. “We’re not done here, Ayisha. Don’t think a friend will save you.”
When the door closed behind them, Ayisha exhaled shakily and pressed her palms together. She could hear the faint buzz of voices from outside, then the click of heels on linoleum.
Chloe entered the room.
She looked perfect as always — sleek hair, tailored coat, perfume faint but expensive. Her face was calm, sympathetic even.
“Ayisha.”
Ayisha lifted her head, relief and confusion mixing in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
Chloe smiled faintly and pulled the chair opposite her. “I came to make sure you’re okay. They told me you were crying.”
Ayisha’s voice trembled. “I wasn’t— I just— everything’s a mess, Chloe.”
“I know,” Chloe said softly. “That’s why I came.” She leaned forward, her tone gentle but deliberate. “You’ve been through too much. Tessa should be here, but she’s not. Neither is Ares. They don’t care about you the way you think they do.”
Ayisha frowned. “That’s not true.”
Chloe tilted her head. “Then where are they?”
Ayisha swallowed. “They’re… they’re probably trying to fix things.”
“Or maybe they’ve moved on.” Chloe’s eyes softened, pity lacing her tone. “You’re still defending them, but they’re not defending you.”
Ayisha looked down, her throat tightening.
Chloe reached out slowly, her manicured fingers brushing Ayisha’s hand. “You don’t deserve to be the one paying for their secrets. You can walk out of here if you just tell the truth — that Ethan’s dangerous, that you were manipulated.”
Ayisha jerked her hand back. “No.”
Chloe blinked, pretending to be hurt. “I’m trying to help you.”
“You’re trying to help yourself,” Ayisha said quietly. “You always do.”
For a second, Chloe’s mask slipped just for a heartbeat then it was back, polished and perfect. She sighed, standing up. “You’re scared. I understand. But the truth is, no one’s coming for you, Ayisha. Not Tessa. Not Ares. Not even Ethan.”
Ayisha turned her face away. “Please leave.”
“Ayisha—”
“I said leave.” Her voice cracked.
Chloe stared at her for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. But remember this — when they’re all gone, and it’s just you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She turned, heels echoing as she walked to the door. She paused briefly, glancing back. “You’re stronger than you think. Don’t waste it defending people who wouldn’t do the same.”
Then she was gone.
The door clicked shut, and the silence pressed down heavy and suffocating.
Ayisha folded her arms on the table and buried her face in them. Her whole body trembled.
She didn’t know who to believe anymore.
Outside the door, Chloe walked down the hall, her expression hardening with every step. The police officers gave her polite nods as she passed, unaware that she was the one who had lit the fire they were now trying to put out.
By the time she stepped out into the morning light, her calm smile had returned. She put on her sunglasses, pulled her coat tighter, and dialed a number.
In a forgotten part of the city, rain beat softly against the windows of a derelict apartment building. The walls were cracked, paint peeling, the air heavy with dampness and dust.
Ethan sat slumped against the wall, his jacket half torn, blood seeping through the fabric at his side. The bullet had grazed him, just enough to sting like hell and bleed like a warning.
He had cleaned it with vodka from a broken cabinet, the bottle now lying empty beside him.
The small radio on the floor crackled weakly, catching fragments of a news report.
“…police confirm the suspect, Ethan, escaped custody after a confrontation at Deez Café earlier today…”
He laughed, a dry, bitter sound that turned into a cough.
His name filled every headline. Every screen. Every whispered rumor.
He pressed a hand to his wound, breathing through clenched teeth. His head throbbed. His vision swayed.
“…witnesses describe a tall man fleeing the scene moments before shots were fired…”
He dragged himself toward the window, peering through the broken blinds. The street below was empty. Only rain, puddles, and a flickering streetlamp.
“Perfect hiding place,” he muttered.
He slid down again, resting his back against the wall. The room was dark except for the faint orange glow of a distant neon sign bleeding through the grime-streaked glass.
He thought of Ayisha, her betraying face pale in the café, the panic in her voice and then of Tessa.
He leaned his head back against the wall, the pain in his side pulsing in rhythm with his rage.
The radio crackled again.
“…the authorities warn citizens to remain alert. The suspect is considered armed and dangerous…”
Ethan laughed under his breath, though there was nothing funny left in him. “Dangerous,” he repeated softly. “You’ve got that right.”
The sound of thunder rolled faintly outside, and he sat there in the half-dark, breathing shallowly, the city’s sirens wailing in the distance.