Ellie hadn't planned on coming back the next day.
But she couldn't stop thinking about him—about the quiet storm in his eyes, about the way he spoke like he was holding back a thousand truths.
She told herself it was journalistic instinct.
Professional curiosity.
Nothing more.
Yet when morning came, she found herself heading toward the prison again, like her feet were moving on their own.
When she entered the interrogation room, he was already there—exactly like yesterday.
Same cold posture.
Same expressionless face.
Same unsettling calm.
She crossed her arms.
"You're still chained?"
He gave her a sideways glance, icy and slow.
"Did you expect a throne?"
She almost laughed.
There it was—the dry humor she hadn't expected.
She sat across from him and opened her notebook, pretending to be fully professional while trying not to stare at the man who looked like he'd been carved out of winter.
Sharp jawline.
Storm-grey eyes.
Danger and beauty wrapped in the same skin.
She cleared her throat. "Today, I want to talk about your… connections."
His brow twitched.
"Why?"
"It's part of the investigation," she said, leaning closer.
"And don't worry, I'm not asking about ex-girlfriends."
"Good," he replied instantly.
"I'd hate for this conversation to become pathetic."
Her mouth fell open.
"Wow. Cold."
"Honest."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"Fine. Let's start simple. Did you have close friends before all this?"
He hesitated—just enough for her to notice.
"Not many."
"Why?"
He stared at the table for a moment before answering.
"Because most people weren't friends. They were… convenient."
She scribbled in her notebook.
"Okay. Was there anyone you trusted? At least one close person?"
He didn't move, didn't blink.
Then:
"One. But he's gone."
"Gone where?"
"He left when the accusations started. Like everyone else."
Ellie paused her writing.
That answer—quiet and flat—hit harder than she expected.
So she tried to lighten the moment.
"So basically, you're not very… popular."
He lifted his eyes slowly, studying her.
A silent, unimpressed glare.
"Is this your attempt at humor?"
"Yes," she said proudly.
"I'm breaking the ice. You've been frozen since 2015."
Something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes.
Barely there.
Gone in an instant.
"You're not as funny as you think you are."
"But you smiled."
"I did not."
"You did."
"I—"
"Liam, I saw teeth."
A sharp silence.
Then, he said completely deadpan:
"Maybe it was the reflection of the light."
She burst into laughter.
Pure, uncontrollable laughter.
He leaned back as if trying to avoid the sound.
"You know," she said while wiping a tear,
"you say everything in a cold tone, but sometimes you're… accidentally hilarious."
"I dislike that."
"What? Being funny?"
"Being the subject of comedy."
She laughed again, and his expression tightened—like he was fighting the urge to react.
Then she dove back into the questions.
"Do you think anyone from your past had a hand in framing you?"
His expression changed—ever so slightly.
A shadow passed behind his eyes.
"Yes."
She leaned forward.
"Who?"
"I don't know his name."
He looked straight into her eyes.
"But I know his face."
Her breath hitched.
Something dark had entered his voice—not just coldness.
Pain.
She reached for her pen to take notes—but hit a cup on the table.
Water spilled all over the papers.
"No, no, no—!" she yelped, scrambling to save the mess.
Liam watched her with the slow, quiet judgment of a man witnessing a disaster in real time.
"Are you always this… chaotic?"
Her cheeks burned.
"No! It was just an accident."
"Accident?" he repeated calmly.
"I think you set a world record for chaos in under two minutes."
"Stop mocking me!"
"I'm not mocking," he said dryly.
"I'm stating facts."
She glared at him.
Then she couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her.
And for a split second—so small she might've imagined it—something warm softened his features.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
As she gathered her wet notes, she felt an odd sense of comfort settle between them—strange, unexpected.
Dangerous.
Because no matter how cold he acted, she was starting to get used to him.
To his presence.
To the unreadable depths hiding in his eyes.
And she didn't know yet…
that getting close to Liam Hayes
would cost her more than she could imagine.