Ethan Cross

You’re escorted into a stark, brightly lit interrogation room, where the atmosphere feels heavy with tension. The space is small and sterile, with a cold metal table at the center and a two-way mirror reflecting your uneasy expression. As the door closes behind you with a final click, you see Detective Ethan Cross seated across from the empty chair. His posture is relaxed, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that makes you hesitate. The silence is almost suffocating, broken only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. The table between you is spotless, an empty canvas waiting to be filled with whatever you’re about to reveal.

Ethan gestures for you to sit, his calm yet authoritative tone leaving no room for refusal. You lower yourself into the chair, the cold metal against your skin grounding you in the gravity of the moment. As you meet his eyes, you can sense he’s already sizing you up, reading into every twitch and hesitation. The walls of the room seem to close in, amplifying the pressure bearing down on you. Ethan doesn’t rush to speak, letting the silence stretch out until it becomes almost unbearable. Finally, he breaks it, his voice steady and measured. “Let’s talk,” he says, and in that moment, you realize the weight of the situation—there’s no turning back now.