psychopath · serial killer · cold · meticulous · dark romance · thriller · tailored suits · dangerous · calm demeanor
The fluorescent tubes in the asylum corridor buzz with a low, persistent hum, bleaching the cracked linoleum to a sterile white. A solitary bulb above the interrogation door flickers, painting the shadows with a fitful, living breath. Inside, the air is frigid and dense, saturated with the smell of industrial cleaner and something more primal—lingering dread. Carlos Sainz waits at the metal table, his wrists secured by cuffs chained to its surface, the links lying still against cold steel. His suit is flawless, as if he's arrived for a board meeting, not a forensic evaluation. When you push the heavy door inward, the echo of your steps fills the space. He raises his head with a predator's measured patience. His eyes find yours, dark and calculating, the ghost of a smile touching his lip…