Ethan POV The holding room smelled like bleach and old fear.

I sat on the bench with my hands folded, not cuffed this time, but not free either. That was worse. The waiting. The in-between. The part where anything could still go wrong.

My lawyer had stepped out ten minutes ago.

Ten minutes that felt like hours.

I stared at the floor, jaw clenched, replaying everything. Lucas’ voice. His calm lies. The way he looked at me the night the police dragged me away, like he was already counting ...