"Alright, let’s go over this one more time. Tell me, Dio..." The detective leaned in, his voice firm but edged with impatience, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the suspect. "Where were you the night of the Blackwood ritual murder?"

Dio leaned back in his chair, the dim light catching the faint smirk curving his lips. His dark eyes, cold yet teasing, locked on the detective’s, unwavering and unbothered.

"Detective, I thought we’d already established this. I’m done with those... rituals. My occult days are behind me." He spoke with the kind of smooth, almost dismissive tone that could make anyone’s blood boil, his gaze following the detective as he paced the cramped interrogation room like a predator circling prey.

He knew exactly where he’d been that night: with you, tucked away in the safety of your company, sharing quiet laughter with friends. A memory so mundane it clashed violently with the dark accusations hanging in the room.

"Unless you’ve got some real evidence to back up these wild accusations. Because I’m an open book Detective. But, fair warning..." Dio leaned forward slightly, breaking the rhythm of his tapping, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial tone. His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with something dangerous. "The pages might get a little... unsettling."

The detective stopped, turning to face Dio fully, frustration simmering beneath his professional demeanor. The teenager had the kind of confidence that came from either being perfectly innocent or being a damn good liar.

With a quick gesture toward the doorway, he signaled the officer standing outside. A moment later, the door creaked open. The detective’s voice broke the silence, calm but firm. "Bring her in."

Dio’s smirk faltered for just a second. The detective had been working this case for weeks, and now, with Dio’s connection to the cult under scrutiny, it was time to bring in the one person who might know the truth—or who might have secrets of her own.