The police department held its usual air of authority and tension, but today, a subtle unease lingered beneath its walls. Alexander had returned after the Aiden Jadesmith incident, his expression unreadable as always. He moved with his usual grace, his golden pocket watch swinging lightly as he entered the office.
Across the desk sat Mark Alberton, fingers interlocked, eyes sharp with scrutiny. He studied Alexander for a moment before speaking.
"You went too far this time," Mark said, his tone even but weighted.
Alexander smirked, unbothered. "Did I?" he replied, his voice calm as he reached into his coat pocket. A small, neatly folded chess set emerged from a silver box. With practiced ease, he set it on the desk between them.
Mark sighed, recognizing the challenge. He had seen firsthand what Alexander was capable of—his mind was razor-sharp, dangerous, and utterly unpredictable. The two began their game, the pieces moving in calculated silence.
Minutes passed, and Mark's king was cornered. He knew he was trapped, but he still played along, testing Alexander's strategy.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Mark mused, moving his rook.
Alexander leaned forward slightly, his sapphire-blue eyes gleaming under the dim office light. "Enjoy what?"
"Winning. Being ahead of everyone else. Manipulating people into seeing the world the way you do."
Alexander chuckled. "It's not about winning, Mark. It's about control. The one who controls the board controls the outcome." He moved his queen effortlessly. "Checkmate."
Mark exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "One day, Alex, you might just lose."
Alexander leaned back, smirking. "Then I'll make sure that day never comes."
———
The detective office was eerily silent. The weight of Alexander's latest move—manipulating Anna Jadesmith into executing her own husband—had left a profound impact on his allies. Madison and Darmian didn't dare speak to him, their gazes lowered whenever he passed.
But Rose—Rose had fled the moment he stepped inside.
She had bolted upstairs, her breath unsteady, her body tense. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. He saw it in her eyes—the fear, the doubt, the silent question gnawing at her mind: Who was the real monster here?
Alexander let her go for a while, allowing the tension to fester. Then, when the moment was right, he followed.
—
The dimly lit corridor was silent except for the faint sound of her breathing. She stood near the window, gripping the frame as if she needed it to steady herself. The city lights outside barely illuminated her features, but he could see it clearly—the way her shoulders rose and fell, the way her fingers trembled slightly.
She knew he was behind her.
Alexander moved slowly, his footsteps deliberate. The moment she felt him getting closer, she turned sharply. Her expression was one of defiance, but he saw past it. He saw the way her lips parted, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed down whatever words she wanted to say.
Then, in one swift motion, he pinned her against the wall.
A sharp gasp left her lips as her back hit the cold surface. One of his hands rested beside her head, trapping her in place, while the other gripped her waist, firm but not painful.
"W-what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice shaky.
Alexander tilted his head, his sapphire-blue eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You ran," he murmured, his voice smooth, calculated. "Why?"
Her breath hitched. She looked away, refusing to meet his gaze.
"I didn't run," she muttered, but he could hear the lie in her voice.
He smirked. "No? Then why is your heart racing?"
She flinched as his fingers brushed against her waist slightly before retreating. The touch was brief, teasing—just enough to make her aware of the position she was in.
Rose sucked in a breath, trying to push against his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his presence overwhelming.
"You're scared of me," he said softly, his tone almost amused.
She gritted her teeth. "Of course, I am!" she snapped. "I just watched you turn a grieving wife into a killer! I saw the way you spoke, the way you twisted your words so perfectly—like you were playing a game!"
Alexander chuckled, his voice rich and smooth. "Ah, so you did pay attention."
Her hands pressed against his chest again, this time more desperately. "Let me go."
He didn't move.
Her breathing grew heavier, her eyes glistening with unspoken fear. "Alexander… please," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
For the first time since she met him, she looked truly vulnerable—her lips trembling, her golden-brown eyes glossy, as if she was seconds away from breaking down completely.
She was about to beg.
Alexander's smirk faded slightly as he watched her. Then, after a long, tense silence, he loosened his grip. His hand on her waist moved upward, brushing against her arm before resting lightly under her chin. With a touch that was almost gentle, he tilted her face up, forcing her to look at him.
"Do you know why you're scared, Rose?" he murmured.
Her breath was shaky. She didn't respond.
"You're not afraid of what I do," he continued, his voice low, dangerously hypnotic. "You're afraid of how much you understand it."
Her eyes widened.
"You saw yourself in me, didn't you?" His thumb lightly traced her jawline. "The way I manipulated her? The way I pulled the strings so effortlessly? Tell me, Rose… isn't that what you've done your whole life?"
Her body tensed. He knew he had struck a nerve.
"You killed to survive," he whispered. "You used your skills to outmaneuver your enemies. You became a weapon, just like I did. But the difference between us?" He smirked. "I don't pretend to be afraid of it."
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
He leaned in slightly, his lips close to her ear. "You fear me because I show you the truth of what you are," he murmured. "And that terrifies you, doesn't it?"
Rose's body trembled under his touch.
He finally pulled back, giving her space, but his gaze never left hers.
"You shouldn't fear me, Rose," he said smoothly. "You should fear what I'll do to those who stand in my way."
She stood there, frozen, her breath uneven as she tried to process his words.
And Alexander—he simply smirked, stepping away, leaving her with nothing but the weight of her own thoughts.