“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.” She snatches the mask from my hands and inspects it up close.
“See? Nothing,” I say, laughing awkwardly.
A black-and-green-haired beauty waltzes down the street behind the kitchen window, away from the building, and a wave of relief washes over me.
Maybe I won’t die today after all.
“What are you looking at?” Aspen follows my gaze.
“Huh? Nothing.” I shrug, scratching the back of my head. “Just distracted by the scenery.”
“Right.” I didn’t think she could narrow her eyes even further, but apparently, she can. “Well, about this party, when is it?”
I clear my throat. “I don’t have the details yet, but I’ll text you once I do. Is that okay?”
“So you just came here to invite me to a party you don’t know exists yet?”
I turn around and slowly back away. “Yeah, that’s about it.”
“I know you’re hiding something, Xav,” she says.
“Nonsense,” I head toward the door. “Bye!”
“I’m onto you!” she growls as I shut the door and quickly run off. “Come back here and tell me who you’re running from, asshole!” Aspen yells across the street, but I don’t care.
I know this is just sisterly love speaking underneath all that vitriol.
Besides, I need to get to my next class. Lunchtime is over.
Atreus
The stenchof death permeates the air.
Another body, another day in Crescent Vale City overrun by criminals.
I take a photo of the body lying mutilated on the concrete floor of the warehouse, but the lens doesn’t make the scene any less ghastly. The man beneath my feet got sliced to bits, and several holes are poked all in his body. It’s as if the perp kept them alive a little longer just to enjoy torturing him a bit more. Macabre.
I pull out my notepad and write down some of the details. His zip-tied hands. The lack of weapons left at the scene. The location. The way the body is lying face-up, a terrified look still plastered on his face.
“How long do you think he’s been here, Detective?” one of my guys asks as he approaches.
I put on my gloves and lean in closer to inspect his wounds, making sure I don’t tamper with any of the evidence. “The blood is still fresh. Wounds still open. Can’t have been more than a few hours, at most,” I mutter.
We’ve found many bodies since I took office, but I’ve never seen cuts like these before. It’s almost as if the person didn’t just want them to die but wanted them to suffer too.
I tilt his head slightly to inspect his neck and notice a peculiar red mark on the side. I swipe over it with my thumb and bring it to my face. My eyes narrow as I rub my thumbs together, the redness staining both gloved fingers.
Lipstick?
Was he kissed by a lover before he died?
Or is this…
“Anything interesting?” Trent, another one of my men, approaches. “I’ve sealed off the perimeter.”
“Good. I don’t want anyone sniffing around an active crime scene.”
