As Bertram remained on his knees, hands trembling ever so slightly where they hovered near his head, the storage room felt smaller than it had moments earlier.
A thin layer of dust stirred faintly in the air whenever someone shifted their weight, and the distant murmur of the gathering outside filtered through the closed door like a muffled heartbeat.
Charles walked forward slowly. Don stayed where he was near the door, arms loosely crossed, while Ash stood beside him.
Her usual tough exterior had cracked; she watched the scene with wide eyes, a deep internal shock clear in the way her shoulders remained tense.
Coming from streets far removed from these elite circles, she had never imagined someone like the police commissioner's son could be so easily cornered and broken.
She glanced toward Don from the corner of her eye, her earlier fake distress gone. In its place sat a mix of respect and quiet concern.
