Mchael's POV
"I need you to come to the police station, Mister Alista."
I didn't know what to expect when I got that call earlier this morning, but now that I was seated in the room, the air thick with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke, I knew something was on.
My hands clenched into tight fists, resting on the metal table. I could feel the tension in the room as the officer delivered the news, his voice measured and calm, as if he were recounting a boring fact instead of telling me what I was here for. Which I had no idea what it was about.
"The man who attacked your wife," he began, his eyes flicking to meet mine, "he's dead. He was killed on his way to prison. He was charged with another crime unrelated to her attack, and he was on his way to the prison when he met his end."
