Eleanor's POV
The buzzing fluorescent light overhead felt like an interrogation tool itself, casting harsh shadows that seemed to shift and mock me.
The detective—a large man with a tired, skeptical face—leaned across the metal table, his presence sucking all the oxygen from the room.
"So, let me get this straight," he said, his voice a low, disbelieving rumble. "You went to the Kingsley Hotel, alone, to… buy something. And instead, you were kidnapped to be human trafficked."
I nodded, my hands clenched together in my lap to stop them from shaking. "Y-yes. They used a perfume. It knocked me out."
"And after you miraculously escaped," he continued, his eyes boring into me, "this same ring, instead of cutting their losses, decided to track you down. They found your apartment, laid a trap, and orchestrated a massive, public chase across the city, all for you."
