Dane's POV :
I leave the house quickly.
Too quickly.
The door shuts behind me with a sound that feels final, like something has been sealed rather than closed.
The walls inside had been closing in on me, inch by inch, the air too thick to breathe properly.
Every room had felt smaller than it should, like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for something else to go wrong.
Someone found a way in.
That thought pounds in my skull as I move down the steps.
Someone found a way to attack Jake and Rain. Right here. In my home.
In the place that was supposed to be impenetrable.
The only place I trusted.
Another failure sits heavy in my gut, sour and corrosive.
But now I need to go to the funeral.
I straighten my shoulders as I walk. I smooth my jacket with hands that don't quite stop shaking.
I must maintain appearances.
That's the rule. Always. Especially now. Grief can be visible.
Rage cannot.
Doubt absolutely cannot.
