Victoria
The afternoon dragged on like a slowly tightening noose around my neck. The air was thick with tension, everyone speaking in hushed, urgent tones as Tiny delivered his full report on Enzo's disappearance.
"The blood spatter indicates the initial attack happened while he was in bed," Tiny explained, his massive frame seeming to fill half the room as he gestured to crime scene photos spread before us. "Defensive wounds on the headboard, sheets soaked through on the left side. Based on the pattern, someone caught him by surprise, but he fought back."
I hugged myself tightly, feeling unexpectedly cold despite the warmth of the room. The images of Enzo's bedroom—a place I'd avoided at all costs during my years in that house—now transformed into a violent crime scene made my
