The Return

The clock ticked softly on the wall, its rhythm steady against the hum of the mansion’s power. Outside, moonlight stretched over the long drive and flickered faintly against the parked van, the same one that had carried secrets and stolen breaths.

Ethan was sprawled across the bed, half covered by the sheet. His breathing was deep, steady, untroubled, a sleep that looked innocent but wasn’t earned. Beside him, a small glass of untouched wine sat on the nightstand, the rim still ...