The Edge of the Lie

Cassian

The air in my room felt thicker than usual, muffled, like the walls themselves were listening.

I sat behind my desk, fingers steepled beneath my lips, my gaze frozen on the untouched tablet in front of me. The surveillance footage looped on its dark screen—Callan’s last moments, grainy but horrifyingly vivid. I have watched it twenty-three times. Maybe more. Each time, the bile crawled up my throat, and the fury ...