The ambulance doors slammed shut with a hollow metallic clang. Inside, the air was thick with urgency. One paramedic pressed both hands hard against Noah's thigh, trying desperately to slow the bleeding that kept pushing through the gauze.
"Pressure's dropping," he said sharply.
Another medic adjusted the oxygen mask over Noah's face while checking the pulse at his neck.
"Pulse weak… barely there."
The siren screamed through the streets as the ambulance tore across the city. Streetlights streaked past the windows like broken lines of light.
Noah's body lay strapped to the stretcher, unmoving. His face had gone pale. Too pale. Blood continued to soak the bandages despite the pressure.
"Stay with us, Detective," one of the medics murmured under his breath as he tightened the compression. But Noah didn't respond.
Minutes later the ambulance burst into the emergency entrance of the hospital. Doctors and nurses rushed forward immediately.
"Male, early-thirties," the paramedic reported quickly while the stretcher rolled inside. "Severe blood loss. Possible femoral artery damage. Fall trauma likely."
"BP critically low." The medical team moved with fast precision. Noah disappeared behind the swinging double doors of the emergency unit. Bright white lights flooded the room. Monitors beeped rapidly. Nurses cut away the blood-soaked fabric from his leg while a surgeon stepped closer to inspect the wound.
"Prepare transfusion," the doctor ordered. "Now."
The bleeding had been slowed, but not enough. Time was running dangerously thin. For nearly twenty minutes the room was filled with controlled chaos. Then finally the surgeon stepped back, removing his gloves slowly.
"Move him to ICU," he said quietly. A nurse looked up. "Condition?" The doctor hesitated for a moment.
"Critical."
Across the city, Evan sat in the back of a police car. His wrists were cuffed together in front of him. But he barely noticed. Everything felt distant. Muted. The image wouldn't leave his mind. Noah's body falling. The sickening sound when he hit the floor. The dark blood spreading across the concrete. Evan shut his eyes tightly, but the memory only replayed again. And again.
He didn't resist when officers guided him out of the car at the station. Didn't react when they walked him down the hallway. Didn't speak when they pushed open the door to the interrogation room. Inside there was only a metal table. Two chairs. A bright overhead light that made every shadow sharp. They sat him down. The handcuffs clinked softly against the metal surface of the table. A recording device was placed between the chairs.
The door opened again after a few minutes. A man stepped inside. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His movements calm but deliberate. Detective Victor Kolon. The officer assigned to replace Noah Knox on the case.
Victor Kolon was known across the department for one thing, 'he didn't tolerate lies'. He wasn't loud, and he rarely raised his voice, but he had a reputation for asking the kind of questions people couldn't escape from.
He sat down slowly across from Evan. Studied him carefully. Then switched on the recorder.
"State your name." Evan remained still. Victor glanced briefly at the file.
"Evan Kale," he said evenly. He folded his hands together on the table. "I'm Detective Victor Kolon. I'll be continuing the investigation." Silence filled the room. Victor leaned forward slightly. "Let's begin with something simple." His voice was steady.
"Why were you at the abandoned factory tonight?" Evan stared at the table. No answer.
Victor opened a folder in front of him. "You arrived at approximately 7:15 p.m.," he said calmly. "Detective Noah Knox arrived shortly before that." He slid a photograph across the table. It showed the concrete floor. Blood. So much blood. Evan's breath caught quietly.
"You were found alone at the scene," Victor continued. "You were kneeling above the floors when officers arrived."
He looked directly at Evan. "Explain that."
Evan's fingers tightened slightly against the cuffs. But he said nothing. Victor watched him carefully. Then opened another section of the file.
"For months," he said, "you have claimed you see crimes before they happen." He turned a page. "You reported dead animals." Another page. "You insisted a killer existed." He looked back at Evan. Victor's eyes hardened slightly. "But tonight the only person present at the scene of Detective Knox's attempted murder…" He tapped the photograph. "…was you."
The silence in the room deepened. Victor continued. "So here are the questions I need answered." His tone sharpened slightly.
"If you believed someone else was committing these crimes… why were you already there before the police?"
"How did you know where Detective Knox would be?"
"How did you know the timing?"
He leaned forward.
"Or were the visions simply a story you built to hide what you were actually doing?"
No response. Victor kept going.
"Did you lure him there?"
"Did you attack him?"
"Did something go wrong?"
"Did he fight back?"
His gaze didn't move.
"What was your motive?" A pause...
"Jealousy?"
"Anger?"
"Obsession?"
Evan slowly lowered his head. But he still said nothing. Because every time he tried to think...he saw Noah again. Broken on the concrete floor. Unmoving.
Victor watched him for a long moment. Then leaned back slightly in his chair.
"You understand how this looks," he said quietly.
Evan's lips trembled faintly. But no words came. The recorder continued to hum softly.
At the hospital, the waiting area was quiet. Too quiet. The fluorescent lights above cast a pale glow across the empty chairs.
Rhea stood near the glass window that looked toward the ICU hallway.
Doctors moved behind the doors occasionally. Machines beeped faintly somewhere deeper inside.
Kai sat nearby. His elbows rested on his knees. His hands were clasped tightly together. His shoulders looked heavy, as if something had crushed the strength out of him.
"My best friend is in there," he murmured hoarsely.
"I still can't believe this."
Rhea glanced toward him. Kai ran a trembling hand through his hair.
"Evan…" he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "How could he do this?"
His voice cracked convincingly.
"I trusted him."
Rhea didn't respond. She simply stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. A quiet gesture of comfort. Kai lowered his head further, staring at the floor.
To anyone watching, he looked like a devastated friend. A man struggling to accept betrayal. And Rhea stood beside him. Silent. Thinking. Observing everything. Without saying a single word.