"You're saying you haven't killed a woman… right?"
Leonid asked coldly, a suffocating anger filling the interrogation room behind his calm tone. He stood there, staring at Devin with eyes ready to either strike or restrain himself.
After a moment of silence, he took a deep breath and commanded firmly:
"Leave us alone."
The men hesitated, along with Alia, but Leonid's sharp gaze forced them to step back, as if moving away from a predatory beast.
"Hurry."
He ordered again. Without wasting any more time, Alia left first, followed by Dmitri, and then Vasili, muttering as he approached the door:
"Keep your cool, alright? If you want to hit him later… just leave it to me."
Leonid only nodded silently, then turned to Pyotr, who whispered before leaving:
"Please… no more violence."
The door finally closed, leaving them alone.
Leonid approached the table, grabbed a sealed confidential file, opened it violently, and threw a set of photos in front of Devin.
"Explain this."
Devin raised an eyebrow, then lowered his eyes to the pictures.
Blood, severed body parts, a cut across the neck.
His expression froze for a moment before he drew a cold smile.
"And this?"
"Your victims."
Leonid's voice cut like a knife.
"Don't you dare say you don't know them."
Devin chuckled softly and leaned back.
"My victims? Excuse me, but I've never killed a woman in my life. What happened with Charlotte was just an accident… unfortunate, nothing more."
Leonid slammed his fist on the table, making the photos shake.
"So you deny any connection to them?"
"Of course, I deny it."
Devin replied with deliberate confidence, his expression serious this time.
"Maybe I have a different taste, a view society doesn't accept… but the person who did this? They must have been blind to the beauty of women."
Leonid ground his teeth, his voice simmering with suppressed anger.
"Four victims, plus Charlotte… in the same building. And you say it's nothing to do with you?"
He leaned forward slowly, sparks of fury in his eyes.
"Tell me… why should I believe you?"
Devin looked up coldly.
"Did you detain me to keep oppressing me, under the guise of questioning me?"
Provocatively, he wiped the annoying blood from his lower lip with his thumb, then rubbed it with his finger.
"Look, I swore to confess my crimes… and this isn't one of my crimes, I swear."
Leonid said dryly:
"A sworn oath isn't enough. Show me proof… or I'll convict you myself."
"You don't want my words… you want tangible evidence, right?!"
Leonid nodded. At that moment, Devin lost his composure for the first time. He slammed the table and stood face-to-face with him:
"And how do you want me to prove what I didn't do, with evidence too? Reconsider your accusations immediately!"
"Under the pretext of your absence."
Devin's eyes widened at Leonid's calm reply, and his voice rose in anger:
"Enough! I want a lawyer now."
Leonid smirked mockingly:
"Asking for a lawyer is weakness. A minute ago you were perfectly calm."
Devin took half a step back, the chair behind him shifting, his eyes sparking:
"A minute ago I was facing my own crimes… and I was ready to pay the price. But this… these are heinous crimes that aren't mine."
Leonid asked coldly, narrowing his eyes:
"And what's the difference between you and the one who did it? Give me a convincing reason, and I'll reconsider my charges against you."
Devin smiled bitterly, exhaling lightly before replying:
"Simple… the difference between me and him is that I acted out of lust and desire… whereas he acted out of hatred and mutilation, nothing more."
Then he tapped his finger on the photos in front of him, as if confirming an obvious truth:
"Violence driven by lust… is not the same as violence driven by hatred. And killing in itself makes us completely different."
Leonid's smile faded, replaced by icy severity:
"You speak as an expert, then… fine. Flip the photos and present your case according to the dates below."
Devin reached out, flipping the photos violently, as if each page was a slap. Then he sat slowly, sighing in frustration as he examined the dates:
– Day XX of February.
– Day XX of May.
– Day XX of August.
– Day XX of October.
"The dates here… is this a serial killer?"
Leonid ignored him coldly and said firmly:
"Present your alibi. I didn't ask for your questions."
Devin smirked sarcastically, leaning slightly forward:
"Alright… just so you know, I moved to this city this month, in October. But according to the last date, I had already moved into the building after the last crime took place there."
Leonid paused, considering the matter. Devin was right. He had jumped to conclusions. Maybe he hurt Charlotte… but the serial killer he was hunting? It wasn't him.
Leonid narrowed his eyes and spoke calmly, deliberately:
"Then explain to me… how did you end up in the same building? Nothing happens by chance."
Devin chuckled softly, a smug smile spreading across his face. He crossed his arms despite the discomfort caused by the handcuffs, and said nonchalantly:
"Didn't I tell you? I followed Charlotte until I found her place… then I moved in."
Leonid raised an eyebrow and returned his gaze to the photos. His expression darkened; the attack on Charlotte had been physical, without mutilation or drowning, and there were no traces of drugs in her system. Devin also didn't have any weapons.
Unlike the four other victims, they had drowned, had their fingers brutally cut, had high levels of drugs in their blood, and a slit across their necks.
Leonid replied in a dry tone:
"Since you consider yourself an expert… do you have any idea who the culprit might be?"
Devin smiled, appearing more at ease, shrugging his shoulders:
"I don't know all the residents on the floor… they're all eccentric, and you're no exception. But… if you want a guess? It could be a doctor, since he collected all the fingers."
"A doctor…"
Leonid repeated, his eyes gradually widening. A brief silence was broken by Devin's succinct remark:
"There's a doctor living next to my apartment, and he's twisted too."
A few seconds of silence passed until Leonid lightly gestured toward the wall. Vasili and Alia picked up the signal from the secret room and stopped the recording and cameras.
Leonid leaned slightly forward, his voice calmer:
"I can say you are indeed an expert… Mr. Devin."
Devin tilted his head:
"Is that praise? I'd rather you praise me for other things… like my sense of beauty. Anyway… after this conversation, I think I've started to like you, Mr. Dead Puppy Owner ."
A sideways smile appeared on Leonid's face, and Devin returned it in kind.
"Let's shake hands."
Leonid said calmly, extending his hand.
Devin didn't hesitate and slowly extended his right hand. But as soon as their hands met, Leonid's grip closed like a steel trap, pulling Devin toward him with a sudden force, then spinning behind him with a sharp military move.
In just seconds, Devin's body was thrown into the air and landed on the ground at his feet.
"Ah… my back!"
Devin groaned, his spine screaming from the impact.
Leonid didn't stop at dropping him; he grabbed Devin's restrained arm and twisted it harshly.
"Ah! My arm!"
His eyes burned with hatred, briefly considering breaking it, but he suddenly released Devin's hand, which fell onto the floor above his head, the cuffs scraping against the cold tiles.
Leonid stepped back, his voice composed and calm:
"We're done… but remember, one day you'll pay… in my own way."
"You bastard…"
Devin gritted his teeth while Leonid glared down at him before turning and leaving. He slammed the door behind him, the echo of his heavy steps resonating in the corridors.
The officers and his team watched his back as he walked away.
"He's going to Charlotte, isn't he?"
Alia whispered.
Vasili smiled:
"Shall we bet?"
Dmitri replied seriously:
"No need… the outcome is clear."
Pyotr entered the interrogation room and quietly closed the door. He saw Devin groaning as he tried to get up from the cold floor, the cuffs weighing him down and intensifying his pain.
Pyotr remembered Daniel's words…
The color of his eyes is like yours…
And Devin's eyes were strangely close to Pyotr's.
He should have expected that this man was the suspect in the puppy case, especially after the hallway incident. How could he not foresee that this man might be dangerous?
He said coldly, mixed with firmness:
"You deserve more than this… but let me help you."
Pyotr stepped closer and reached out to him, but Devin sharply slapped his hand away:
"I don't need your help… any of you!"
A mocking smile appeared on his face, while anger boiled behind his eyes.
He was tired of their stares and judgments, especially their treatment.
Leonid stormed out of the center as if the air itself was chasing him. His fist trembled, his rage burning through his veins.
With a sharp breath, he yanked his tie violently and threw it to the ground, unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt as if freeing his chest from a choking constraint, then climbed into his car and slammed the door shut.
"What am I doing?"
He muttered, ruffling his silver hair with his shaking hand.
Now he understood Devin's words: Do you think you're the winner?
He had been the loser… he had already lost so much. But the truth, harsh as it was, was better than blind ignorance.
Leonid exhaled sharply as he started the engine.
At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to check on Charlotte, but the feeling of shame choked him.
He had dedicated himself to protecting her, staying close so she would never disappear from his sight. Yet, despite everything, what had happened happened.
It wasn't just a loss… it was a complete fall, a failure that weighed on him like an unhealing wound.
Charlotte's silence was not without reason.
She had been afraid of him, especially after his actions toward her, and seeing Devin nearby made her feel threatened. As a girl, she had no choice, even her tongue refused to tell the truth out of fear.
Her apologies… her tears… her pleas… all stemmed from a deep sense of guilt toward him.
Perhaps she thought that telling him the truth would end them, but she was wrong: no matter what happened between them, Leonid would not resent or hate her.
She was the love of his life, his refuge, his everything.
Leonid drove aimlessly, his grip tight on the steering wheel, his heart sinking deeper into darkness.
His icy blue eyes had lost their sparkle behind his silver hair.
In the hospital, the sterile air mixed with anxiety hung heavy over Daniel and Lyudmila.
Since Leonid had left, the oppressive wait for Charlotte to wake had not left them for a moment.
No matter how much time passed, she remained the same, her body motionless, almost convincing them of death, were it not for the steady heartbeat on the monitor.
Yet there was no clear sign of improvement or imminent awakening, which led the doctors to come and go repeatedly, checking her condition regularly, certain of only one thing: she had not yet slipped into a full coma.
Hours later, the sun set. A nurse approached and gently asked Daniel and Lyudmila to leave.
"Why do we have to go?"
Daniel asked nervously, as Lyudmila held his hand to calm him.
"Visiting hours are over. Please follow the instructions,"
the nurse repeated softly, understanding the state of the visitors. Leaving loved ones behind was never easy, but she reassured them:
"All patients are in safe hands. She is too."
"Alright… let's go, Daniel."
Lyudmila rose, holding Daniel's hand.
Daniel kept staring at Charlotte through the window, his heart aching, but he finally gave in and stood up.
He approached the window and whispered,
"I'll come to see you tomorrow… and I hope you wake up while I'm by your side."
Lyudmila smiled firmly, trying to plant the truth in both his heart and her own:
"You will wake up… you can stop worrying."