The closer they got to the Kane estate, the more suffocating the air felt. Winn's hand stayed in a tense fist against his thigh.
When they finally rolled into the compound, Winn swallowed, throat burning. He realized with a heavy drop in his stomach that he was dreading this moment more than anything he'd ever faced. Saying the words out loud to his mother meant sealing them in reality—pressing "confirm" on a horror he'd been refusing to accept. Sylvia was dead. Gone. Snuffed out. Gone. Forever.
It made no sense.
The butler opened the doors. The old man's brows shot up. Winn hadn't stepped foot in the estate in over a year.
Tim followed behind him, and Winn could hear the man's slower, heavier footsteps behind him.
Winn headed toward the staircase. Tim started to follow, but Winn spun around with a glare. "What? You want to walk into my mother's bedroom with me? Haven't you seen enough of her already?"
