As the words left his mouth, the room went into complete and utter silence; even the constant buzz of the light bulb above seemed to silence itself with the weight of his words.
But before that moment could last even a millisecond, the woman sped forward from the corner of the room in an instant, diving for Riven, tackling him to the ground, and slamming his head against the white tiled ground with a loud crack.
"YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!" she yelled as she pulled back her fist and landed a powerful blow directed at his face, though as her fist impacted, she immediately pulled it back as a chilling sight came into her view: the area of his face where the punch should've landed was a foggy smoke that showed through his face, revealing the cracked tile underneath.
Looking at her, his eyes were still dull and lifeless, as if what just happened had never occurred, and then he opened his mouth, another puff of smoke leaking while he simply said. "I wouldn't do that, Miss Lance; you'll only hurt yourself."
Eyes widening in horror at the sight, she reached for her gun, but her partner grabbed her by the hair and arm, wrenched her off of him, and slammed her against the wall.
Before she could even react to the pain, her surroundings suddenly warped, and she found herself facing the one-way glass that looked in on the interrogation room.
"What in the hell is wrong with you, Gabby?!" he started. "He's a royal; are you fucking insane?!"
Regaining her bearings, she squirmed out of his grip before shouting back through tears that she didn't bother hiding anymore, "He killed Katy—" she started, only to get cut off by the volume of his voice that eclipsed hers.
"I told you not to get too close to her, you fucking idiot. They're royals; they live in an entirely different world than us. Or did you forget this whole interrogation is a formality? Even if we caught him doing it, it means nothing; they don't get charged by our laws."
"Did you forget about it? During this case, did the fame get to your fucking head, or was it all your time hanging out with them, hmm?" he asked her, his voice sharp with a mix of anger, frustration, worry, and hatred that wasn't exactly aimed at her.
"We got lucky because the court was forced to side with us because he broke a royal law, but after this..." he said, holding his balding head.
"But—" she tried to voice, only for the man to cut her off.
"Did you think?" He asked as muscles tightened. "Did you even think of Julius before you attacked a fucking royal?"
"He already bullied your son for how he looked and how he dressed. What do you think he's going to do now that you tried to kill him? Bruises, scars, and suicide attempts will be the least of your worries this time. He's going to kill you, do you hear me? He's going to kill you and your son and probably my family too now that Mrs. Cross is—" but then he paused as if he couldn't say the last words because that would mean he would actually have to accept it's true.
"Mr. & Mrs. Cross are dead," he said, his voice carrying a finality that made it sink in for Gabbie, a finality that hadn't sunk in, even though she'd seen the corpses laid in body bags not too long ago.
"Katy is dead," he stated while holding her arms and looking directly into her eyes to make sure she understood.
Upon hearing those critical words, her face turned from the anger that had been fueling her for the last few hours, keeping her from confronting the emotions that lay deeper.
Eyes widening, grief-filled tears finally dropped from her face in silent droves at first as her knees went weak and her head started to pound like someone took a jackhammer to her.
Seeing this, he took his hand off and took a step back.
But then it hit her that her friends were dead, and so were their children, all except the cruelest among them, and she had just tried to kill him.
Katy & Steven could no longer protect her and her son from him and his grandfather.
Legs finally giving out from up under her, she started bawling her eyes out, with snot running from her nose and tears pouring out of her eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Eyes softening, he bent down to her level, anger and frustration being replaced by an understanding that escaped him in his anger. She just lost her best friend.
But before he could find the words to offer some comfort, her voice cut him.
"Wha—what...do I do?" she asked as her mind broke apart at the seams.
"He's going to kill Julius—he's going to kill him because of me," she stammered through sobs.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated as her voice broke. His jaw clenched at her cries while his teeth began grinding against each other.
Kneeling to her level, he softly grabbed each side of her face and wiped the constant tears pouring down her face with his thumbs.
"You—" he began, but he stopped as bile began to build up in his throat from the sheer bitterness he was about to put into words.
"You need to go in there..." he started, his voice gravelly, as he dragged the words out of his throat. "...and you beg. You beg him for mercy, Gabbie. You apologize. You do whatever the hell you have to so he spares Julius."
The words struck her like a spinning blade twisting in her gut. Her breath hitched and she even hiccuped, her chest collapsing inward as if the very air betrayed her.
Apologize... to the monster who killed her best friend. To the bastard who tormented her son so mercilessly it drove him to—
The thought sickened every ounce of her being.
Every nerve in her body screamed to reject it, to spit in the man's face and scream that she would never, never kneel to that thing in the other room that was so far from human it was practically another species.
But even as she prepared, her son's face flashed in her mind—his wide eyes, his fragile smile, his small hands clutching hers for safety. But this image was warped and replaced with the image of him in his bed with blood pouring from his wrist.
Her sobs immediately turned into sharp, strangled gasps as her body rebelled against her heart.
But in the end, she just nodded. Though she didn't say yes—because that word would shatter her completely.
Slowly getting up, she moved to the door, like someone walking to their own execution. Her legs were still weak, but some primal instinct forced them to move.
The door loomed ahead, and she dragged herself through it, shoulders shaking, head bowed. The man stayed behind, silent, watching her disappear out of the observation room.
But as the door clicked shut behind her, his chest tightened, that familiar, suffocating weight crushing him again—the one that he thought he stopped feeling a very long time ago.
And that feeling could only be described as knowledge.
Knowledge that no matter how hard he or anyone like him fought, no matter how much he had on them, or how much he wanted to stand up for what's right, in the end there was nothing he or anyone could do.
Not against them. He turned his gaze toward the one-way glass.
His translucent reflection glared back at him with a hollow-eyed, tired, and bitter stare he wasn't sure was his. But seeing the sight, he started gritting his teeth once again before curling his fist and pulling back his trembling arm.
And—
BOOOMMMM!
His knuckles slammed into the glass with the force of a gunshot, but at the same time, a spike of pain shot up his arm, making him reel and clench his teeth harder.
The pane didn't shatter—it was too tough—but it served its purpose, making him feel the least bit better about the situation because at least he did something.
Something—even if it was still just a futile protest against the untouchable strength that calmly sat in a chair on the other side of the pane of glass.
"Fucking Royals."