The ride back to the office was suffocatingly silent.
The glass partition in the SUV was up, but the tension was so thick I half-expected it to shatter.
I kept my eyes fixed on the world outside, watching the sun settle into a bruised, subtle purple. Through the heavy tint of the windows, the city looked like it was already drowning in midnight, a reflection of the man sitting as far from me as the leather bench would allow. William's silhouette was a rigid line of suppressed fury. His chest heaved in a slow, jagged rhythm, the movement of a wounded animal trying to pretend it wasn't bleeding out in the dark.
"William." I started, my voice sounding thin against the hum of the engine.
"Don't."
The word was a serrated blade. He didn't turn his head. He was staring out the window at the blurred faces of pedestrians on the sidewalk, people living normal lives, people who probably hadn't just told their mother they blamed her for every scar on their soul.
I said nothing after that.
