Blaze worked through the night, the hours slipping by unnoticed as his bloodshot eyes scanned Alan’s diary and files. The chaotic scrawl of Alan’s dark thoughts, the violent plans—each page made Blaze’s stomach twist. His fingers ached from flipping through the endless mess, but he pressed on. Alan’s instability, laid bare in both the diary and the files, painted a terrifying picture of a man spiraling out of control.
“This is it,” Blaze muttered under his breath. “This is the key.”
By dawn, Blaze had gathered everything he needed. Exhausted but determined, he stormed into his father’s study, a thick stack of evidence clutched in his hands. His father, always composed and calculating, raised an eyebrow at Blaze’s entrance.
“Blaze, what’s all this?” his father asked, setting his glasses
