Alethea

Harvey smiles brightly as if he didn’t just grip my wrist a moment ago. Maybe he thinks acting casual will put me at ease, but he’s doing a terrible job.

The spot where he grabbed me still stings, and I instinctively rub my wrist, trying to soothe the lingering pain.

"I'm sorry about that," he says, flashing an apologetic smile as he scratches the back of his head.

I cross my arms and glare at him. "What the hell was that for? If you have something to say, just say it."

He exhales sharply. "I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Okay, I’m listening," I say, impatience...