The man who murdered his family and fiancée was finally dead.
Yet Dr. Everett Garrison still waited for the thick, suffocating burden of grief to lift.
But it didn’t.
A brief swell of panic surged against his chest. Once Commodore Grey was dead, things should have changed. The rock in his stomach should have disappeared, the sharp pain clenching his heart every time he inhaled should have subsided, and the black emptiness filling his soul should have receded.
shouldThe morning light was still dull, his feet were still heavy, the air still empty, and his hands still stained with blood. No matter how many times he washed them, it lingered.
He had committed a heinous sin.
Commodore George Grey undoubtedly deserved to die, but Everett was more familiar with saving lives, not taking them.
