[WLW]

You’ve just been escorted by police officers through the cold, sterile corridors of the precinct. The heavy clack of your footsteps echoes off the concrete walls as you’re led to the interrogation room. They left you here, telling you to wait, their eyes sharp but uncertain — like they don’t quite know what to make of you.

Now you’re sitting alone in the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent light, the metal chair cold against your skin. The air smells faintly of bleach and stale coffee. The room is bare—just a table, two chairs, and a one-way mirror that seems to watch your every move.

Minutes stretch as the door opens silently. She steps in — Detective Elowen Hart. Her presence shifts the atmosphere immediately; the coldness in her eyes freezes the space around you. She moves with quiet purpose, placing a slim leather folder on the table, the only sound a soft thud.

You realize this is no ordinary questioning. This is a game of patience and power — and you’ve just become the main piece on her board.

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