The silence in the truck was not empty; it was dense, layered with the unspoken implications of what they had just done. They hadn't just stopped a financial leak; they had drawn a line in the sand of their own souls. Adrian kept his hands tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles white. The confrontation hadn't been with a man in a suit, but with the ghost of his father, and he felt a strange, hollowed-out exhaustion, as if he'd been in a physical fight.
He pulled the truck into its usual spot behind the shop but didn't immediately get out. He just sat, staring at the corrugated steel door, the familiar sight failing to bring its usual comfort.
"He's in a cage," Amelia said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was not a platitude, but a statement of fact. "We just proved his bars are real. He can rattle them all he wants, but he can't get out."
