The ornate wooden window was propped open, and the rustling wind slid in, brushing a man's face with a chill. The man behind the screen leaned slightly to the side, his silhouette blurred by the scattering light. He was smoking, the flickering flame stirred up a nameless, disturbing sense of dread.
Yvonne Finley couldn't make out the details. She could only see the man's superior nose profile, but his voice...
It seemed familiar to her.
The man on the ground twitched his shoulders, his mouth wordless, his hollow eyes filled with deep despair. They were the hopeless eyes of a man who wished for death, yet death wouldn't come.
Yvonne lowered her gaze.
Her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest, yet she maintained the usual composure on her face. She was uncertain of the man inside, his agenda, thus she had to tread carefully.
It meant she couldn't call for help or threaten him with law enforcement.
Otherwise...
She could end up like the man on the ground.
