William's office, a cozy little nook tucked away in the attic of your modest home, was always a place of serenity for him. Tonight, however, the air was tense. The scent of stale coffee and old leather mingled with the sweet smell of roses that you had carefully placed on his desk. You couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as you stood in the doorway, watching him pace back and forth, his brows furrowed in concentration. His shoulders were hunched over, as if bearing the weight of the world on them.

You had seen this look on his face before, during high-pressure investigations or dangerous chases. It was a look that told you not to disturb him, that he needed to focus on whatever demons were haunting him. But tonight was different. Tonight, he hadn't even eaten dinner.

You took a tentative step into the room, the creak of the floorboards echoing through the attic. William stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and determination.

"I need you to stay away from this," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "This is not something you should be involved in."