She exhaled sharply through her nose, a sound that might have been a laugh if it weren't so devoid of amusement. "We'll see." The car slowed as she pulled into the precinct parking lot, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the scene. She turned off the engine and faced me fully, her expression unreadable. "Let's go, Mr. Reynolds. I'm eager to hear your side of the story."

As she stepped out of the car, I followed, the cool night air doing little to dampen the heat of the confrontation. Jayden led the way into the station, her boots clicking against the linoleum floor with purpose. Every eye in the room seemed to flick toward us, but her focus never wavered.

She stopped at the door to an interrogation room, turning to me with a smirk that sent a chill down my spine. "After you."

I stepped inside, the door shutting behind me with a finality that echoed in the small space. Jayden took her time settling into the chair across from me, her movements deliberate, calculated. She placed a file on the table between us, her fingers tapping the surface lightly, as if savoring the moment.

"48 hours, Mr. Reynolds," she said, her voice low, almost conversational. "Let's make them count."

She slid a photograph across the table. The image was gruesome—a bodyguard's lifeless body sprawled across Arturo's home, blood pooling around him like a macabre halo. The air in the room seemed to thicken, but I didn't flinch.

I picked up the photo, my expression mocking as I examined it. "Yeah... they look so familiar." I leaned back in my chair, feigning thoughtfulness. "Oh, right. I remember now. I saw them at Lorena's house when I went to meet Mr. Arturo." I shook my head, my tone dripping with false sympathy.

"What a pity. They died like that." My eyes flicked up to meet Jayden's, a smirk playing on my lips. "Officer, have you caught the murderer yet? Whoever did this must be truly lawless—to kill the bodyguards of Chief Justice Arturo like that."

Jayden didn't react. Instead, she slid another photo across the table. This time, it was Hector—his face frozen in an expression of terror. "Do you know him?"

I shook my head, my voice smooth. "I don't think I've ever seen him in my life, Officer."

Jayden chuckled, a cold, humorless sound. She pulled out a third photo—Diaz, his body mutilated, his limbs severed. Before she could ask, I cut in, my voice laced with mock horror.

"Oh, I do know him." I placed a hand over my heart, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "He's the son of my woman. So tragic. Who could be so cruel as to cut off his hands and feet?"

Jayden's fingers tightened around the edge of the file as she watched me, her knuckles turning white. "You think this is a joke?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "These men are dead, Mr. Reynolds. Brutally. And you're sitting there, smirking like this is some kind of game."

I leaned back in the chair, my expression unshaken. "If it's not a game, Officer, then why are you playing by the rules of one?" I gestured toward the photos scattered across the table.

"You've got bodies, witnesses, and a file. So where's the arrest? Or are you just hoping I'll slip up and confess out of the goodness of my heart?"

Jayden's eyes flashed with fury. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor, and braced her hands on the table, leaning in until her face was inches from mine. "I don't need a confession from you, Jack," she spat. "I've got Lorena's testimony. I've got Arturo's statement. I've got proof that you were at the scene, that you threatened Diaz, that you—"

"That I what?" I interrupted, my voice calm but cutting. "That I walked into a room where men were already dead? That I had a conversation with Diaz before someone else butchered him?" I shook my head, my smirk never wavering.

"You've got circumstantial evidence, Officer. And circumstantial evidence doesn't hold up when the real killer is still out there."

Jayden's breath came faster, her chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. "You're unbelievable," she snarled. "You stand there, with blood practically dripping from your hands, and you act like you're the victim."

I glanced down at my hands, then back up at her, my eyebrows raised. "No blood here, Officer. Just your imagination running wild." I tilted my head, studying her.

"You're desperate, aren't you? You've got nothing but a pile of photos and a story from people who'd sell their own mothers to save their skins. Tell me, Jayden—" I emphasized her name, watching her flinch—"what happens if I walk out of here? What happens to your career when your star suspect strolls out the door without a scratch?"

Her face twisted in fury. "You won't walk out," she growled. "Not today. Not ever."

I laughed, a low, mocking sound. "Bold words. But let's be honest—you don't have enough to hold me. Not for 48 minutes, let alone 48 hours." I tapped the table with my finger, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You want to know what really happened? Fine. But you're asking the wrong questions."

Jayden's eyes narrowed. "Enlighten me, then," she snapped. "If you're so innocent, tell me where you were when those men were killed. Tell me why Lorena would lie for you. Tell me why Arturo, a man who hates you, would cover for you now."

I leaned forward, my voice dangerously calm. "I was where I always am, Officer—where the real power is. And Lorena? She knows the truth. Just like Arturo does." I paused, letting the words hang in the air. "But you're not ready to hear it. You're too busy chasing shadows."

Jayden's hands clenched into fists. "I'm done playing games with you," she said, her voice trembling with rage. She reached for the file again, yanking out a fresh document and slamming it onto the table.

"This is the warrant for your arrest, Jack. For murder. For conspiracy. For obstruction of justice. You're not walking out of here. You're going to rot in a cell while I dig up every skeleton in your closet."

I didn't even glance at the paper. Instead, I met her gaze, my voice steady. "Arrest me, then."

Jayden's breath hitched. For a moment, she hesitated—just a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Then, with a snarl, she grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the chair. "With pleasure."

But as she dragged me toward the door, I twisted free, my voice a whisper in her ear. I smirked. "The second I walk out of here, you're the one who's going to need a lawyer."

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