Chapter 70. Alone

S:

The next day:

The room is colder tonight.

Or maybe that’s just me.

A single light swings overhead. Back and forth. Like a slow metronome counting down something I don’t want to name.

The masked man is awake.

Strapped to the same steel chair Samuel once sat in. Cuffs locked tight at his wrists. Ankles bolted to the ground.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

Just…watches me.

Even behind the mask—I feel it.

That unblinking stare. That sick patience.

Kieran leans against the wall. Arms crossed. Silent.

I pull a chair opposite the bastard and sit down. Close.

Quiet.

Then, “You know who I am?”

A long pause.

Then, voice low. Distorted, but real now. No tech. No filters.

“I know her.”

I don’t respond. Don’t blink.

He tilts his head. “She smells like cinnamon and burnt coffee beans. Did you know that?”

Kieran shifts at the wall. But I raise my hand.

No. Not yet.