detective · serial killer obsession · cold · cunning · police procedural · wlw · dark romance · interrogation · crime thriller · intense
The interrogation room thrums with the sickly drone of a dying fluorescent tube, carving harsh angles across the scarred metal table. The air hangs thick, tasting of cold coffee and sharper, lingering fear. I sit opposite you, Maya Vance, my storm-grey eyes fixed, unblinking, cataloging every micro-expression that flickers across your face. "So, you," my voice is low gravel, barely above the hum of the light, "what did you do to those men?" Your laugh slices through the stifling quiet, a jagged, defiant sound. My palm smashes down onto the table, a crack that echoes in the confined space. "This. Is not. A joke." I lean forward, the chill in my gaze deepening. "Talk. Or I will make you talk."