Devil's Whisper Chapter 128: A Moment Suspended

Kate was strolling through the brightly lit corridors of the Global News Network office, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, when she suddenly heard someone call her name from behind. The voice was familiar, prompting her to stop mid-step and turn around. Just a few feet away, she spotted Rodrick, his tall frame and confident stance unmistakable.

"Hello, Rodrick."

Rodrick crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, looking at her with mild disapproval. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in so many days."

Kate sighed, shifting the folder she was carrying to her other hand as she took a step closer. "You were out of the country, and I was busy working on the case. That’s why we didn’t cross paths."

Rodrick didn’t seem entirely convinced. "I came back four days ago," he pointed out, "and you still didn't have time to see me?"

Kate exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. "You know everything, Rodrick. This case... it’s like a never-ending puzzle. Just when I think I’ve figured out one piece, another part gets jumbled up again."

Rodrick studied her for a moment before nodding. "Hmm... come with me. We need to sit down and talk about what's tangling your mind."

Kate hesitated briefly before shaking her head. "You go ahead to your office. I need to make a quick phone call first, and then I’ll join you," she replied, her tone even but laced with distraction.

Rodrick watched her for a second longer before relenting. "Alright," he said simply before turning and heading toward his office.

Kate waited until he disappeared down the hall before looking around. Once she was sure no one was paying attention to her, she quickly moved toward her office. As soon as she stepped inside, she reached for her phone, ready to call Ophelia. However, before she could even dial the number, a firm knock sounded on her door, followed by it creaking open.

She adjusted her posture in her chair and called out, "Yes, come in."

Today, she was dressed in a sleek brown two-piece suit, the sharp cut of the blazer complementing her poised demeanor. Her makeup was minimal, just enough to enhance her naturally striking features without drawing attention away from the intensity of her sharp eyes.

An office boy hurried inside, looking slightly flustered. "Ms. Kate, there's a courier for you."

Kate arched an eyebrow. "Give it to me," she said, extending her hand. Then, before the boy could turn to leave, she added, "When did it arrive?"

"A few minutes ago," he answered as he handed over the package.

Kate eyed the small package carefully. It was wrapped in plain grey paper—no sender information, no markings, nothing to indicate who had sent it or where it had come from. Her fingers ran over the smooth paper as she turned it over, a small frown forming on her lips.

Noticing that the office boy was still standing there, she glanced up. "What else?"

"Mr. Jason is waiting for you," he replied promptly.

Kate nodded, placing the package on her desk. "Let him in," she instructed.

The office boy scurried away, his footsteps a faint patter fading down the hallway, and within a minute, the door creaked open again, revealing Jason as he stepped inside. The air shifted with his arrival, thick with the scent of ink and the faint musk of his cologne, a quiet storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

He wasn’t one for small talk, and today was no different, his urgency palpable as he closed the door behind him with a soft click that echoed in the stillness, sealing them in together.

“Hello, Kate,” he greeted, his voice low and steady, a rumble that brushed against her senses like a touch, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.

“Hello, Jason,” she replied in an equally plain tone, leaning back slightly in her chair as she observed him, her posture casual but her eyes sharp, tracing the way his jacket hugged his frame, the subtle tension in his shoulders.

She tilted her head, her hair falling softly against her cheek, and the lamplight caught the flush on her skin—a remnant of their earlier closeness that still lingered, a warmth she felt whenever he was this close.

Jason wasted no time getting to the point, his urgency cutting through the charged air as he stepped toward her desk, his presence looming over her in a way that made her pulse race.

“I found something in the footage from the Montana Club.”

Kate immediately sat up straighter, her brows knitting together as all traces of fatigue vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp focus that mirrored his own. “What did you find?”

Jason pulled out his phone, his fingers brushing hers as he set it on the desk. He swiped at the screen, his movements deliberate, and the faint glow illuminated his face, casting shadows that sharpened the intensity in his eyes as he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers.

“I reviewed the CCTV footage from the Montana Club, specifically from April 23, 2020,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur that brushed against her ear, a quiet intimacy weaving through his urgency. “At first glance, everything looked normal—people dining, drinking, chatting. Nothing seemed out of place. But then, at exactly 10:23 PM, something caught my eye.”

"And what did you see?"

Jason met her gaze, his expression grim. "At 10:23, Juan Loo left the dining area of the club and walked out into one of the gardens. He was alone, just standing there for about two minutes, looking around as if he was waiting for someone. And then—out of nowhere—someone approached him from behind and landed a hard punch right at the back of his neck. The attack was so swift, Juan went down immediately,"

Kate narrowed her eyes. "When he got back up?"

"When he stood up and turned toward his attacker, the assailant’s face wasn’t visible. They were wearing a mask—full coverage, nothing identifiable."

Kate let out a slow breath, absorbing the information. "If you couldn’t see the face, what was significant about it?"

Jason tapped his fingers against his phone before answering. "True, I couldn’t see the face," he admitted. "But I did notice one key detail—the attacker was wearing a polo shirt. Not just any polo shirt, though. It had a distinct logo and a number on the back."

"A logo and a number?"

"Yeah. That might just be the clue we need to figure out who’s behind this."