Secrets That Bind | Book I

10 // intruders and fading lights

///

"and in that moment i asked my self: is there anything worth living for?"

///

𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘺𝘢

I stopped wasting my time wondering why people do the things that they do a long time ago. There's never really a straight answer to that question, and honestly, there's no point in thinking about it. Human behavior is a never ending spiral that just keeps leading you further and further down into the abyss of questions.

But today, I can't stop thinking about why Jeff allowed Alex to lead the investigation of Dom's death. Alex wasn't there that night—he doesn't know anything about our past cases like I do, and he's a piss poor agent.

Angrily, I pull the cork off the wine bottle before pouring the bitter, crimson liquid into my wine glass. Leaning back in my couch, I mindlessly stare at the sloshing crimson liquid in my glass, as I think about how the agency's psychologist deemed me as "unfit" to be on the field.

Throwing my head back, I chug the contents of my wine glass as my mind replays the scene from work.

"You're too close to this, Arora," Jeff whispers harshly as a colleague walks past us in the hallway.

"That never stopped you from putting me on a case!" I whisper in exasperation, referring to the time Dom was injured by an arrest gone wrong.

"That's different—"

"—How?"

"The psychologist didn't say you were unfit to be on field duty." Jeff deadpans as he crosses his arms over his chest. He puts his finger up, stopping me from saying anything further, "I know this sucks, Anaya. Believe me, I want to find Dom's killers myself, but I can't and you can't either. We're too close to this and if the psychologist says that you're not ready to be on the field, then it would be irresponsible of me to ignore her advisement."

I set the glass down on the coffee table, wiping my mouth with the back of my mouth as the bitterness of the alcohol lingers on my tongue. I'm still quite angry and sober, none of which I want to be feeling right now, but I know that Jeff's words are going to be playing in my head like a broken record. If I don't find something to keep myself occupied, I'm going to go crazy.

So with a sigh, I lean over to pour myself another glass of wine, but my hand freezes on the bottle as I catch some movement in the reflection of the wine bottle.

A few moments pass, the air conditioning providing the only sound in my apartment, as I continue to scrutinize the section of the wine bottle where I saw the movement. After a few more seconds, I shake my head and pour myself some more Merlot.

As I place the bottle back on the coffee table, I catch some movement in the reflection of the bottle again and this time, it doesn't stop. Just as I place my wine glass to the side, I feel something roughly tug at my hair, exposing my neck.

"You're a hard woman to kill, you know that?" A gruff voice says from somewhere behind me before pushing me forward again.

I don't even have time to react – to say anything – before a thick, oddly sweet scented cloth is stuffed to my nose and mouth, suffocating me. Bringing my legs out from under me, I push back against the iron like grip the intruder has on the back of my neck, but it only makes them push the cloth harder into my face. All I can do is kick helplessly, my feet kicking the wine bottle across the coffee table, causing it to shatter into pieces. The sound seeming as though it were a blaring alarm, when in actuality, nobody outside my apartment could've heard it.