Can’t Win Me Back

Nicholas' emotionless eyes widened as he watched the video.
It depicted a dimly lit alley behind a nightclub, where Nathan, the leader of the Ivory Gang, pinned his subordinate to the ground,
raining blows upon him.
Shortly after, Nathan left the scene.
The subordinate was still alive.
He was attempting to get up when a dark figure suddenly leaped down from a wall.
Cyrus fixed Nicholas with an intense stare, his eyes betraying tension in the muscles around them.
The unexpected assailant didn't hesitate.
He stomped on the Ivory Gang member, grabbed a rock, and smashed it on the man's head thrice.
The subordinate crumpled, his head a sickening mess of blood.
A pool of crimson bloomed around him, a horrifying final image as life ebbed away.
The initial lighting was dim, shrouding the killer's face in darkness.
However, as if by fate's intervention, the lighting on the nightclub‘s flashy signage flickered to life momentarily, revealing the
killer's face—Nicholas, his features spattered with blood.
"After obtaining the video," Cyrus began, his voice laced with unwavering certainty, ''we sent it directly to forensics for a thorough
analysis.
The results are in, and they're conclusive—the video is entirely authentic, with no signs of tampering." Cyrus declared
confidently, his words were like nails hammering into Nicholas, pinning him down with the weight of his crime.
"Furthermore, physical evidence links you to the crime scene with a 98% match.
We have irrefutable proof of your involvement in this murder, Chief Novak.
The video and physical evidence are enough to convict you of first-degree murder, even without a confession." A heavy silence
descended upon the interrogation room.

After a long moment, Nicholas erupted into a chilling, manic laughter.
The metallic clang of his handcuffs against the table echoed through the room.
"Yes, it was me," he declared.
"I killed him after Nathan left.
Then, I framed him for the murder.
Anyway, you've already arrested me.
Prosecute me, convict me.
I won't fight it." "You are the police commissioner," Cyrus pressed.
"You never had any dealings with the victim, no prior animosity.
Why were you at the crime scene? Why resort to such brutality and then try to pin the blame on someone else? Were you acting
under someone's orders?" Nicholas shut his eyes, a picture of defiance.
No matter how many questions they threw at him, his lips remained sealed.
The next morning, Jameson, still recovering from his injuries, made his way to Schmidt Group headquarters.
Swallowing a handful of pills, he forced himself onward.
Hospitalization wasn't an option, so medication was his only solace.
Jameson and Carl was on their way to the meeting room when Carl's phone vibrated.
Car] answered it immediately, his eyes widening in panic as he listened.
A tremor ran through him when he ended the call.
"What's wrong?" Jameson inquired, noticing Carl's growing panic.
"Mr.

Schmidt, terrible news! The police arrested Chief Novak last night.
They're charging him with first-degree murder!" Jameson's heart lurched.
'First-degree murder? What are you talking about?" "Apparently, someone provided the police with a video.
It shows Chief Novak killing the victim after Nathan left.
The entire murder is on tape! He has no defense." Jameson's vision swam.
A metallic tang filled his mouth as he lurched forward.
A crimson spray erupted from his mouth, painting his pale lips a grotesque red.
"Mr.
Schmidt!" Carl cried out in alarm.