Jolene sat on the cot, her back pressed against the cold cement wall. Every breath burned, her ribs aching, the weight of Takeshi Nakamura's death crushing her chest like a heavy stone. The chill of the holding cell seeped into her bones, but it wasn't the cold keeping her awake. It was the endless questions looping in her mind. The "what ifs" ate at her—what if she had moved faster, hit harder, or done something differently? Would Takeshi still be alive?
She clenched her fists, the cuffs biting into her skin. Her knuckles were cracked and scabbed, just like her heart. But her fury was sharper than her pain, keeping her grounded. Kazane was still out there. And if these cops kept wasting their time with her, more people could end up dead.
A rattle of keys interrupted her thoughts. She sat up, eyes narrowing as the door creaked open. The same two detectives entered—Hirata, the lean one with the perpetual scowl, and Ogawa, the stocky woman whose hawk-like eyes tracked Jolene's every move.
Hirata shut the door with a soft click and dragged a chair across the floor, scraping metal on concrete. "Alright, Kujo," he said, sitting down across from her. "Let's try this again. You've got one last chance to make this easy for yourself. Tell us the truth."
Jolene snorted, leaning back against the wall. "Easy? You think anything about this is easy?"
Ogawa remained standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest. "Murder never is."
Jolene's jaw clenched, her gaze darkening. "I didn't kill Takeshi."
Hirata tapped his fingers on the table, each tap grating on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "You expect us to believe that? We found you over his body, blood on your hands."
Jolene leaned forward, her eyes burning with rage. "Because I tried to save him. I held him as he bled out, and there was nothing I could do!" Her voice cracked, and for a moment, the mask of defiance slipped, revealing the grief beneath.
Ogawa stepped closer, her voice low and cold. "And we're supposed to believe some ghost killed him? That Kazane just waltzed in, murdered Nakamura, and disappeared into thin air?"
"Yes," Jolene snapped. "Because that's exactly what happened."
Hirata sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he were tired of the whole ordeal. "Even if Kazane was there—and that's a big 'if'—why would she kill Nakamura? What's her motive?"
Jolene's heart pounded in her chest. She couldn't tell them the full truth—not about the fight, not about Yuto's legacy or the spirit threads that tied them all together. They wouldn't believe her, even if she tried.
"She wanted to hurt us," Jolene whispered, her voice raw. "To break us. And she did."
Ogawa scoffed. "Right. So she kills Nakamura and leaves you alive out of the kindness of her heart?"
Jolene's nails bit into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks in her skin. "She didn't leave me alive out of kindness." She locked eyes with Ogawa, her stare hard and unyielding. "She left me alive to suffer."
Hirata leaned back in his chair, studying her with a thoughtful expression. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that you're telling the truth. If Kazane really did this, where do we find her?"
Jolene exhaled slowly, her breath shaky. "I don't know. But if you don't find her soon, she'll kill again. And next time, it won't just be someone like Takeshi. She'll come for anyone in her way."
Ogawa snorted. "Convenient story, Kujo. But unless you give us something solid, we've got nothing to go on but your word. And right now, your word isn't worth much."
Jolene's frustration boiled over, and she slammed her fists on the table. "I tried to stop her! I tried to save him! What more do you want from me?"
Hirata stared at her, unblinking. "We want the truth. Not some fairy tale about a missing woman with no witnesses and no proof."
Jolene slumped back in her chair, the fight draining out of her like air from a punctured tire. "You're wasting time," she muttered, more to herself than to them.
Hirata stood up, smoothing his tie. "Maybe. But you're not making it easy for us, either." He turned to Ogawa. "Get her back to the cell. We'll let her stew for a while. Maybe she'll feel more cooperative tomorrow."
Ogawa nodded and opened the door. Two officers appeared in the hallway, waiting to escort Jolene back. She didn't resist as they grabbed her arms and led her down the corridor, but the anger simmered beneath her skin like a low-burning flame.
Back in the holding cell, Jolene slumped onto the cot, her head in her hands. They weren't going to believe her. Not without proof. But Kazane was out there—she could feel it, like a shadow lurking just beyond the edge of her vision.
The sound of keys jingling snapped her out of her thoughts. One of the guards—a younger man with a tired expression—opened the cell door just enough to toss in a blanket.
"Thought you might need this," he muttered.
Jolene caught the blanket before it hit the ground. "Thanks," she said quietly, though the word felt foreign on her tongue.
The guard gave her a brief nod before locking the door again. As his footsteps faded down the hall, Jolene wrapped the blanket around herself, trying to ward off the chill that seemed to settle deeper into her bones.
Her mind wouldn't stop racing, replaying the fight with Kazane over and over again. She could still see the way Kazane had looked at her—like a predator toying with prey, knowing she could end it at any moment but choosing not to.
Jolene clenched her fists beneath the blanket, her nails digging into her palms. She wouldn't let Kazane win. Not like this.
Somehow, some way, she would get out of here. She'd find Kazane, and when she did…
This time, there would be no mercy.