“Figures. Only a psycho would understand another psycho.”

Adrian turned his head toward him, one eyebrow arched ever so slightly.

Alex reined in his thoughts, gave him a curt nod, then stepped out to assign the next tasks.

As it happened, the search warrant had just been approved. Marco immediately gathered his team and stormed out of the precinct. Alex didn’t return to the interrogation room; instead, he slipped into the adjacent chamber, continuing to watch the two lunatics circle each other.

Unfortunately, after mentioning the journal, Julian seemed to lose all interest in Adrian. He knew the young man across from him was a cunning fox, capable of reading meaning even in the smallest of gestures, so he simply shut his eyes tight, refusing to be scrutinized.

Adrian, however, showed no sign of frustration. He raised the cup of coffee to his lips, took a small sip, letting the dark liquid seep through his mouth. The bitterness of roasted beans brushed across his tongue like the edge of a sharp blade, plucking at worn nerves and jolting his senses awake after a sleepless night.

Setting the cup down, he continued at his own pace.

“So what? Don’t feel like chatting with me anymore?”

Silence answered him, silence that seemed endless.

Still, Adrian neither rushed nor snapped, keeping his voice steady and unhurried.

“We’ve already come this far. Why fall silent now?”

On the other side of the glass, Alex and the others were asking themselves the very same thing. Normally, once a suspect chose to speak - especially after Julian had pointed them toward a key piece of evidence - the next step would almost certainly be testimony, true or fabricated. At the very least, some outward semblance of cooperation. For Julian to abruptly retreat into complete silence, as though back at the very start, this was anything but ordinary.

Before Alex could dwell on it too long, Adrian voiced the question for him.

“This isn’t the time to hold your tongue. Isn’t this your chance to condemn the real culprit, to clear your sister’s name? What are you waiting for?”

Julian was in police custody, and the evidence already weighed heavily against him. Adrian was confident that given enough time, investigators would collect all they needed to prove Julian guilty of kidnapping Bryce. Moreover, Julian himself had led them to the leather-bound journal in his safe, likely the key evidence that could piece the entire case together.

Logically, there was no reason for him to stay silent now.

Unless…

“Are you waiting for the right moment to reveal everything?”

“Then when will that be? When… every guilty party has been punished as they deserve?”

“So right now… Bryce is still alive, isn’t he?”

Adrian spoke slowly, his eyes locked on Julian, searching for the subtle language written in the other man’s body. Yet Julian sat like a monk in deep meditation, showing no reaction at all to Adrian’s probes.

Adrian pressed on,

“Some people like to save the best bite for last. Revenge works the same way, the most hated prey is always reserved for the final, killing blow. So… Bryce is the one you hate most out of the three, isn’t he?”

“You don’t want Bryce to die. Because sometimes, death itself is a form of release.”

Beneath Julian’s lowered lashes, his pupils trembled ever so faintly. A fleeting shift - imperceptible to most - but not to Adrian’s sharp gaze.

Adrian’s lips curved slightly as he continued his deduction,

“Career destroyed. Reputation rotting. Stripped of dignity, neither man nor monster, living worse than death. Isn’t that the fate you’ve designed for Bryce, Dr. Wills?”

Only the steady rhythm of Julian’s breathing and his absolute silence answered Adrian.

Another fifteen minutes passed. Adrian realized there was nothing more to extract here. More importantly, he had already grasped Julian’s plan. There was no need to waste any more time. He rose and left the interrogation room.

When Adrian returned to the SCIU office, only Lucy and Alex were still there.

The moment she saw him walk in, Lucy immediately spoke up, urgency sharp in her voice,

“Adrian, why do you believe Bryce is still alive?”

Adrian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he posed a question of his own,

“Do you notice how Julian’s methods in killing Nathan Greer and Gavin Moore differ from when he kidnapped Bryce?”

Lucy paused to think, then replied,

“Of course they’re different. With the first two victims, Julian was meticulous, leaving no flaws behind. If it hadn’t been for Nathan’s mistress causing a scene to chase fame, that case might have been closed as suicide. But with Bryce, his actions were reckless, sloppy, full of traces.”

Adrian nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

“Then can you explain why?”

Lucy thought for a moment before answering,

“What Julian did last night was rushed, desperate, even. It’s possible he knew we were already closing in on him. If he hesitated, he’d lose his chance to act. He was forced to seize the moment.”

Adrian offered her a rare word of praise,

“Smart.”

The moment his words of praise ended, a blade-like glare shot toward him from Alex.

Adrian didn’t dodge it. Instead, he accepted it calmly, a faintly mysterious smile tugging at his lips, a smile whose meaning only the two of them could grasp.

He went on,

“He’d rather leave traces for the police than give up taking Bryce. That proves how much he hates Bryce, how determined he is to strike him down.”

Lucy tilted her head slightly. “And just from that, you concluded Bryce is still alive?”

Adrian shook his head, patiently explaining,

“I don’t know the exact grudge between Julian’s sister and the three victims, but I can guess, he’s avenging her. And once someone takes it upon themselves to decide who deserves life and who deserves death, they’ve already placed themselves above the rest of the world. They stop being a victim and turn into a judge.”

“And what’s a judge’s role? To read out the verdict to the condemned, of course. That’s why Julian’s complete silence doesn’t add up, it doesn’t fit the psychology of someone who has assumed the role of judge. If everything were over, he should have been the one to declare the end. He should have stood on moral high ground, loudly condemning those he deemed guilty.”

“But Julian stayed silent, which means the ending he designed hasn’t come to pass yet. Something is still unfinished.”

Lucy let out an “oh” of realization, then nodded along.

“So that’s it.”

Alex, who had been standing by in silence, finally lost patience.

“Lucy, stay here and monitor the phone lines. Call me if anything comes in.” Then he turned to Adrian. “You, come with me.”

He didn’t wait for Adrian’s reply. He simply grabbed his wrist and pulled him away.

Adrian, always so composed, the picture of a polished gentleman, was caught completely off guard by Alex’s roughness. For once, he didn’t have time to react and could only allow himself to be dragged out of the office like some seized piece of contraband.

Alex’s stride was long and fast, forcing Adrian to half-run behind him in an awkward, undignified manner.

He didn’t stop until they reached the deserted stairwell. The moment the emergency door clanged shut behind them, Alex spun and shoved Adrian hard into the coarse concrete wall.

Adrian winced as his back struck it, pain flashing across his face. He suppressed the ache, lifted his head, and met the blazing fury in Alex’s eyes. Then he smiled.

Not the warm, refined smile he wore before others, but a crooked one, his lips barely lifting, eyes narrowing with a mix of mockery and languid amusement.

“So… our captain has a taste for the rough approach?”

Alex lunged forward, a large hand fisting Adrian’s collar and yanking him so close their noses almost touched.

“Why the hell did you do it?” he snarled, his voice reverberating like thunder in the narrow stairwell. “Is another person’s life worth nothing to you?”

His chest heaved violently, rage pouring off him. His grip wrinkled the fine fabric of Adrian’s expensive shirt.

But in the face of that boiling fury, Adrian showed no fear. If anything, his eyes grew more provocative, his smile curving further, as if being grabbed like this were some secret pleasure he’d never admit out loud.

“At this distance, I might mistake you for wanting to kiss me, Captain.”

Alex’s teeth ground together, his words coming through clenched jaws,

“Adrian Monroe, don’t play games with me! Why the hell did you provoke Julian last night? You knew exactly what would follow once you pushed him like that.”

Adrian blinked innocently, feigning confusion.

“I don’t quite understand what you are referring to.”

“Cut the act! Just because the case hit a dead end, you goad the killer into making his next move so we’d have new evidence to work with. Are you insane? No normal person would ever do something like that!”

Adrian’s mocking smile never faltered, though his gaze grew darker, deeper.

For a moment, he stayed silent. Then, suddenly, he asked a question that seemed entirely unrelated,

“Instead of waiting for the law to protect them, why does a murderer choose to take justice into their own hands, and willingly step into the pit of sin with no way out? Do you know why, Captain?”

Alex was unconsciously drawn into the flow of Adrian’s reasoning, and without thinking, he asked,

“Why?”

Adrian tilted his head slightly, that smile still lingering at the corner of his lips.

“Because the law cannot give them justice. Because sometimes the sentence for the wicked is far too light compared to what the victims had to endure. It’s not enough to quench their hatred, not enough to heal their wounds.”

Alex clenched his fists tighter, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Adrian’s face.

“You’re talking nonsense. The law exists to preserve order and justice for society as a whole.”

He took a step forward, his voice low but firm, each word striking the tense air like a hammer.

“It isn’t perfect, true. But it’s the product of centuries of debate, revision, and refinement. If everyone acted on impulse, deciding for themselves who deserves punishment, society would collapse. There would be no justice, only an endless cycle of revenge and bloodshed. The law may not always satisfy, but tearing it down would only leave us with even greater injustice.”

Adrian let out a soft laugh at Alex’s rational, uncompromising tone.

“So,” he said slowly, “you admit there are still people left behind, people forced to endure silent injustice, just because they fall outside the ‘balance’ you put your faith in.”

Alex’s eyes blazed, his brows knit so tightly that veins bulged across his forehead. His grip on Adrian’s collar tightened until it seemed he might lift him right off the ground.

“And that gives you the right to let a dangerous man walk free, to provoke him, to push him to the edge just so you can watch him ‘carry out justice’ with his own hands? Adrian, you’re not God. You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies!”

Alex’s grip was so fierce that the neatly tied scarf at Adrian’s throat twisted out of place, revealing a bruise, dark and angry against his pale skin. Alex’s sharp eyes immediately caught it, a mark left by something thin pulled hard around his neck. It had taken real force to leave a bruise that deep.

He instantly released him, his voice dropping into a rough, shaken tone, unable to mask his alarm.

“What the hell is this? Who did this to you?”

Adrian tilted his head slightly, meeting Alex’s gaze without the earlier mockery. He straightened, reached up, and slowly adjusted the scarf back into place, covering the wound again. His face was calm, as if nothing had happened, but Alex still caught, deep in those otherwise placid eyes, a fleeting flash of fear.