"Won't you go in with me?" Eliza murmured softly, taking her eyes off the police station ahead—they were parked across the road—and turning them to Zane, who was yet staring at the building as though it were a battlefield.
"You seem like you want to be around for the questioning..."
Zane sighed, the sound long and weighted, looking away from the station at last, looking at her instead, and Eliza thought she had never seen a more tortured man.
The sadness in his gaze was not loud, but quiet, carved deep, the type that hollowed a person from within.
Of course she had seen the broadcast, had followed the headlines like everyone else; she could understand there was bad blood between this fine man and Gianna Aldo. But wasn't life too short to bear all that pain, all that weight inside?
Having worked as a nurse since forever, having seen deaths more times than she would have liked—especially unexpected ones—she had come to stop fearing it.
