Chapter 6 6

Sarah's POV

The universe must have been having a good laugh at my expense, finally settling the score for my sin that turned me into a pariah in this city. In less than 24 hours, I had gone from catching Joshua in bed with someone else to being escorted out of school by the police like some common criminal.

Humiliation burnt through me as I walked down the school halls. Teachers and students stared, their smug, satisfied looks practically screaming how much they were enjoying this live drama. My fists clenched, but I kept my head high-I was not about to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

During the drive to the station, I kept demanding to know why I was being hauled in, but the officers wouldn't speak. Their only response was the same: "You'll find out at the station," every time.

I eventually gave up asking, realising I was not going to get a single hint out of them.

Now, here I was, stuck in an interrogation room, alone.

"Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" I shouted, pacing back and forth.

My frustration was hitting a breaking point, and being left in the dark was not helping.

Finally, the door creaked open, and a woman stepped in.

She was not dressed like a typical officer-her shirt and denim jeans made her seem almost casual, but there was something sharp in her eyes that made it clear she was not here to play. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she carried a file in one hand and, a phone in the other.

"Apologies for the wait, Mrs. Cole," she said as she pulled out a chair across from me and sat down.

"Do you need water or anything?"

I kept my intense gaze locked on her for a moment longer before letting out a scoff.

"I don't need your damn apology or water," I snapped, slamming my palms on the table.

"I want answers! Why the hell am I here?"

She did not flinch, just smiled slightly as if she had expected the outburst.

"Okay. Let's get right to it." She sighed and hit record on her phone's voice app.

Guess it's time to find out what this interrogation is all about.

"My name is Detective Claire Monroe," she said.

"Do you know a man named Dylan Graves?"

The name was unfamiliar.

I scrunched my face. "Who?"

Her gaze did not waver. "Dylan Graves. Does the name ring any bells?"

"No, I don't know him!" I barked.

"Is that why I was brought here?" I scoffed.

She ignored my frustration and repeated the question.

That was it! I had had enough.

"I don't have time for this," I snapped, slamming my hand on the table as I shot to my feet.

"You'd better let me go. Right now!"

She did not flinch. Instead, she stayed silent, her eyes locked on mine with an unnerving calm that only made my anger simmer hotter.

Finally, she pulled a photo from the file in front of her and slid it across the table.

"Take a look."

I hesitated, staring at it with a mix of disgust and confusion.

My brows furrowed as I reluctantly reached for it after she insisted.

The moment I saw the face in the photo, my heart dropped and panic coursed through me. It was the panther shifter I had dealt with last night who thought he could mess with me until I put him in his place.

The image of his lifeless body was taken in the same spot where I had left him and his friends.

My pulse raced, my panic growing with every second. But I masked it with fury.

"Is this why you dragged me out of school?' I snapped, slamming the picture back onto the table.

"I've got a life to live, and you are wasting my time over someone I don't even know."

She raised a brow, unshaken by my outburst, which only made my chest tighten further.

Did she know I was lying?

"He and his friends were found dead early this morning, near The Obsidian club. They were brutally murdered."

My heart raced as she spread more photos across the table. My stomach dropped when I recognised them. It was photos of the panther shifter's friends I had taken care of along with him. Their bodies were mangled, torn apart by claw marks, just like his.

She pointed to the photo in my hand, her eyes drilling into me. "Do you know him?"

"I don't know him. Never seen him before. You've got the wrong person," I lied, forcing my voice to stay calm and steady.

Her brow arched slightly, just enough to make my confidence waver even more.

"Really?" she said, her voice dripping with disbelief.

My heart skipped a beat, but I stayed silent, refusing to let her see my panic.

"Yes!" I snapped, while hoping that no one had reported seeing me with them in that spot last night because she didn't seem to buy my lie.

A shiver ran down my spine when I remembered that Anderson had witnessed the whole scene. But I quickly reassured myself that he would not dare mention my name. Doing that would drag him down with me.

Plus, Claire had mentioned that the bodies were discovered early in the morning. There was no way he could have been interrogated and still made it to school that early. That thought gave me a bit more confidence.

"Sit down," she said sharply, trying to maintain control of the situation.

"I'm not sitting," I shot back, crossing my arms.

Her voice hardened. "Sit down. Now!"

Reluctantly, I dropped into the chair, keeping my face stoic.

She pulled out another phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times, then held it out for me to see.

"Funny," she said, seeing the shock on my face.

"You say you don't know him, yet here you are at the club, pouring a drink over his head."

That was when everything clicked; from the subtle mockery from the students earlier and why I was brought in as a suspect in this case. Someone or some people at the club who captured the moment must have posted the clip on the internet.

Regardless, I met her gaze, forcing my voice to stay steady. "So what? I poured a drink on some asshole who wouldn't leave me alone. That doesn't make me a murderer."

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "So you admit to meeting him last night."

"That was the first time I saw him," I snapped.

Her eyes narrowed. "Was it because of what happened that you decided to kill him and his friends?"

I froze, her accusation sending a wave of anger through me.

Silently, I cursed Joshua for dragging me into this mess.

"You are out of your mind! I didn't kill anyone!" I retorted.

When she demanded an explanation, I told her the truth-or at least part of it. I explained how heartbreak had brought me there and how the guy had tried hitting on me after I told him to back off.

"Sarah, I know you are not the killer but the accomplice," she said, her voice firm.

"And I would strongly advise you to spill the truth before it's too late. If you do, I might be able to help you out."

She shrugged. "Maybe get you a lighter sentence. That way, you won't be the only one paying for this."

"Why are you so sure I'm not the killer?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

She chuckled.

"Because I'm a hunter. I know those marks on their bodies can't be caused by witches. It was the work of a werewolf or another panther shifter. So..." She leaned back in the chair, her arms still folded across her chest.

As her accusations circled my head, my thoughts drifted back to the scene. Anderson was too quiet and calm all through the altercation. Coupled with the fact that I left him there at the scene. Could he have stayed behind to do this? However, I pushed the thought aside, certain it could not be true, believing he did not belong to the supernatural world.

"You've got nothing on me," I said, trying to sound confident now that I had come to a conclusion.

"I know the only reason I'm the prime suspect is because of what happened in the past, which I've always felt guilty about and will continue to regret. But ever since that awful day, I haven't taken anyone's life." I explained, hoping my sincerity would convince her.

She held my gaze for a moment before standing up. "We'll see. However, you are not going anywhere until we figure out the truth about your innocence."

"Wait... what?" I said, confused, standing up too.

But she insisted that I would not be released, leaving me perplexed.

After she left, the weight of it all crushed down on me. Pacing the room, I cursed Johnson for dragging me into this mess.

My heart started racing as I thought about Anderson. I wondered if he could implicate me since he was a witness to the scene where I left the panther shifters-something no one else knew about.

I could not let history repeat itself. I had been scorned, ostracised, and guilt-tripped for my past. However, I could not let it happen again.