My sister is dead

"My sister is dead."

He said it flatly, without inflection, as if he had repeated it so many times the words had worn smooth. "If he is innocent, perhaps you can prove it."

"I will. Give me some time. Please don't kill him."

He turned to face her fully. The city lights caught the hard edge of his jaw, the hollows of his cheeks.

"Time is a luxury you do not have," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that was somehow more terrifying than a shout. "One week. If you fail, I will let him watch while I burn everything he loves to the ground."

"Please let me take him to the hospital."

His jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek jumped, a small betrayal of control. He pulled out his phone, his thumb moving across the screen.

"My personal physician will be here shortly. You will wait."

"He's bleeding—"

"His blood will not stain my floors for long." He turned his back to me, staring out at the city. "Do not test my patience while you wait."

She held her breath. The seconds stretched into an eternity. Then, footsteps in the hallway. A man in a white coat entered, carrying a black medical bag. He didn't look at her. He knelt beside her brother, who had been dragged into the penthouse and laid on a leather couch like a piece of broken furniture.

Adyant didn't turn around. "Fix him," he said, his voice flat and absolute. "He is my property."

She sank to her knees beside the couch, her fingers finding her brother's. His hand was cold. His face was swollen beyond recognition. She pressed her forehead to his knuckles and prayed.

*God, please save him. Please.*

"God has nothing to do with this."

The voice was close. Too close. She looked up, and Adyant was standing over her, his dark eyes fixed on her face. The scent of his cologne was overwhelming, invasive.

"Only I decide if he lives."

The doctor worked in silence. The sound of antiseptic, the rustle of bandages, the soft, choked gasp from her brother as a deep wound was packed. Adyant watched it all without flinching, his eyes tracing the blood that dripped onto his pristine white shoes.

"Start your clock," he said softly. "Tell me who actually killed her."

"How could I know? you said you'd give me one week."

His eyes narrowed. A flash of irritation, quickly suppressed. He stepped closer, and she felt the heat of his body, the weight of his presence pressing down on her.

"A week is all you have," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "You find the real killers, or I will drag your brother into my personal hell."

"I'll find out. I will."

He stared down at her, her tear-streaked face, her trembling hands. He did not smile.

His hand moved to his jacket, retrieving a sleek black phone. He pressed it into her palms, his fingers brushing against her.

"Use this. My men will answer it. Do not waste my time."

She clutched the phone like a lifeline. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Do not thank me yet." His voice was a low rumble, the sound of distant thunder. "The clock starts now."

---

She moved on instinct.

She found a bedroom—she didn't remember how she got there, only that it was vast and cold and smelled of unfamiliar sheets. She grabbed her laptop from the bag one of his men had tossed at her, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped it twice. The screen glowed to life, and she opened the case file.

He was there. Leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, watching her.

"Start digging," he said, his voice carrying the cold authority of a man who had never been disobeyed. "But tread carefully. One wrong move, and your brother's life ends before dawn."

She didn't answer. She connected the device he had given her to her laptop. The screen flickered, and the evidence opened before her.

"Can I see the evidence?"

He pushed off the doorframe, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He stopped behind her chair, and she felt his presence like a shadow over her shoulder.

A silver flash drive landed on the desk beside her laptop with a soft *click*.

"The evidence is what put him in my sights," he murmured. "Look closely."

She inserted the drive. Files Opened. She stared at the screen, and the world tilted sideways.

"It can't be."

He leaned closer, his breath warm against the back of her neck.

"What is it?"

*Too clean.*

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