MARCUS REYES~
(Five days before Leonard Mercer died)
Winter was fast approaching.
The coffee in front of me had gone lukewarm twenty minutes ago.
The rain outside the diner washed against the neon sign, throwing jagged red light across the formica table. Isla Matthews sat opposite me, looking like a ghost in a ten-thousand-dollar coat. She was pale, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion after the Obsidian Awards implosion, but her spine was still as stiff as a gun barrel.
As expected, even that couldn't break her.
Did she do it? The thought sat with me. Did she personally order for Ben and Sandre to be killed? I had only seen her as one who didn't care about protocols. She did whatever she did and got the truth every damn time.
From the CCTV footage I got from his bar earlier today, she had spoken to them the same day they went missing. They had gone into the bar, but there was no footage of them leaving.
