Keith’s POV

The rain had a way of making the world look clean, even when it wasn’t. It fell in thin sheets across the windows of the Silver Moon manor, tracing over the cracks that time and ruin had left behind.

I sat near the window, my hands resting on the cold metal rims of my wheelchair, and watched it all in silence.

Freedom was supposed to taste sweet.

It didn’t.

After the prison gates had opened, after the guards pushed me out into the sunlight, I thought maybe I’d feel lighter. ...