Ethan stared up at the statue, his eyes dry and burning. No tears would come. No amount of crying could ever be enough for the guilt that rang behind them. He could hear it all again, the screaming, the explosions, the accusations, the gunshot, layered beneath the distant cheers of the crowd like a second voice mocking him.

He bowed his head and begged for it to stop as the snow melted against his face, replacing tears he could not shed. For a moment, there was nothing else. Just the wind, the sea, and the unbearable weight of what he had done.

Charlie felt the dread the moment he crossed the threshold. It pressed in on him, heavy and suffocating, like a hand closing around his throat. His heart pounded in his ears, loud and irregular, as though the house itself were listening.

For a brief, terrible moment, he considered turning back.

Then the music swelled, the lights flashed, and the feeling vanished, leaving only the certainty that something had noticed him.