Dane's POV:
I leave the room with a heavy chest.
Not the kind that announces itself loudly, not the kind that knocks the air out of me all at once.
This is slower than that. It creeps in, presses down behind my sternum, makes every breath feel like it has to fight its way through something thick and resistant.
I take a few steps down the living room and already feel like I've walked miles.
I walk to my room, despair tearing at me, pulling me in all directions at once.
Guilt claws at one side of me, grief tears at the other, anger coils low and dangerous in my gut. There's nowhere to put any of it.
No container strong enough to hold all of this without cracking.
Inside my room, I shut the door behind me and lean back against it for a second longer than necessary.
My hands shake when I reach for my handset.
I call Ivan.
"Captain! Jake—" he starts, the word breaking in his mouth like he's already braced for what comes next.
