"I'll break down your walls one by one and sneak into the gates of your icy heart before crushing it into tiny pieces." He murmurs mercilessly as his lips lightly brush my ear, the contact eliciting an indescribable sensation through every inch of m...
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I can't stop reading his message even at home.
My eyes are glued to my phone screen, reading the words I've been desperate to hear for months as I lay against the mattress in an immobile state.
The rate at which my pulse is beating is similar to the sensation one experiences during a parachute.
After months of internal suffering, not only will I get to see her on a video which will raise high hopes of wanting her alive but I'd also be one step closer to uncover the murderer's identity.
Despite the good news, why do I feel somewhat anxious and fearful of the upcoming events?
It's like I'm about to open Pandora's box for some weird reason.
This is what you've wanted from the very beginning, Anaya.
Trust Detective Landford to handle this.
After another round of internal pep talk, I end up perched at the edge of the bed and attempt to gain some much-needed rest.
Nonetheless, not even my cat's gentle head rubs against my calf are enough to shift my focus to anything but the message.
༄ ༄ ༄
"Let's change room. This meeting is strictly confidential."
I nod, agreeing to detective Landford's suggestion as soon as he bursts into my office the next day.
Since my office comprises glass doors with little to no privacy, his statement is justifiable.
His aura today is different compared to his usual approachable behavior. Additionally, something about his tone is increasing my level of anxiousness.
He seems rigid with a dominant scowl on his face.
I motion for Vanna to exit the room to which she does in rapidness.
"There's a private office next door," I suggest once I arise from my seat.
He doesn't say a word as he stands statue still with his unreadable gaze still fixated on me.
With furrowed brows, I translate his motionless state as his way of telling me to lead the way.
He follows suit after me once I step outside my office before we arrive at an enclosed room seconds later.
The room is notorious for possessing glass doors that block outside visibility. Hence, many employees at the top floor mostly come here to take private calls.
Detective Landford wastes no time removing his laptop from his briefcase before placing it on a desk and redirects the page screen to a paused video.
Upon scrutiny, my heart begins to pound fast as I recognize the dark atmospheric setting in the footage.
My respiratory rate increases profusely triggering my inability to form a coherent thought as my feet become crippled.
