Lucas got home and felt like he was suffocating.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't rest. He couldn't even think straight.
His mind was a mess, running in different directions at once, trying to piece together plans, trying to decide what his next move should be. The events of the evening had pushed him to a point where he could no longer pretend there was still a way out.
At this point, there was no going back.
Raymond already suspected him. Cynthia was slipping away from him. Mr. Smith was becoming desperate and reckless, and if that idiot opened his mouth at the wrong time, everything Lucas had worked for would come crashing down around him.
He paced the length of his room, one hand dragging through his hair, his jaw tight with frustration.
His first thought was Lena.
