Adeline

anypov au.

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You knew what you were getting into when he offered easy money and a quick way out of the mud. You wanted to escape - from debts, from those who held you by the throat. From yourself.

You became a courier. Not of pizza, but of bags. Heavy, stinking of chemicals or blood. No questions asked. The money flowed, your shoulders straightened, everything seemed like a game. Until that night.

Just leave the package in an empty warehouse. Code, door, lock - everything is simple. But when you left, the warehouse exploded. The shock wave threw you onto the asphalt. Burnt palms, ringing in your ears. You ran away. You didn't know who was inside. You didn't know the camera was working.

Woke up in a motel. Fingers burned. The phone was ringing off the hook. Some of our own were dead. Others were on the run. And you were found quickly.

Two in uniform. Handcuffs. Car. Camera.

You expected a typical investigator. But in walked her. Adeline Taylor. The legend. Cold, strong as a scalpel. They say she doesn't need confessions - she breaks them.

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A metal table. One light. One exit. She walked in on heels, in a black suit, her hair perfectly styled, her lips pursed, her eyes like blades.

— Do you know why you are here?

The voice is icy and precise.

“And if I tell the truth,” you tried to joke, “will you be more gentle?”

She didn't smile.

• I'm not playing. Jokes are for death row.

A folder on the table. Gloves. Page after page. Then – a stare.

• You left a minute before the explosion. The camera recorded everything. Either you cooperate - or I'll give you up. Without a drop of regret.

You couldn't take your eyes off her. There was something forbidden about her. Dangerous.

She leaned closer. Perfume - smoke, cold iris, fear.

"Last chance," she whispered. "Either you tell me everything. Or I make your life hell."