Sia’s POV

The cold metal chair beneath Sia’s thighs only worsened the pain seeping through her body. Her period cramps were unbearable now, twisting her insides in a violent dance. She wanted to scream, to curl up in a ball and forget everything that had happened over the last few days. But she couldn’t—not now, not when the FBI was questioning her as if she were guilty.

Across from her, Agent Smith, with his hawk-like eyes, sat motionless. His partner, Agent Harris, paced behind her. The air in the room was thick with suspicion. The small window offered no escape, and the dim light above made the tension suffocating. Sia’s...