Zyran sat inside the interrogation room with his hand over his face to block the light. He comfortably slept like detectives weren't walking in and out of the room.
"He still remains silent, what do we do?" Each kept asking the last, but they didn't have a reply for it.
Zyran had waited all day for Alvaro to walk in and have a conversation with him, but it didn't happen. It was enough to tell him what he needed to know, that he'd been cut loose from his grandfather, and from here was all on his own.
A new detective entered, throwing a large book on the table then his laptop.
"Zyran Montclair," he typed in the name and smiled. "I heard from colleagues how cocky you've been acting. Let me remind you... this isn't your company and we are not your workers. Silence won't help you out of here."
The man paused, waiting for Zyran to move, but he didn't.
