The truth had a sound.

It wasn’t loud, it was soft like the faint crackle of something burning slowly out of sight.

When Justina woke that morning, Carson was gone. The sheets beside her were cold, the imprint of his body already fading. For a moment she thought it had all been a dream, his confession, her tears and the word Project Ashes ringing in her ears like an unfinished prayer.

But the folder still sat on the dresser. The proof was real. The lie was real.

And so was the ache inside her ...