Elias’s POV

The silence of the cemetery was always the loudest kind of quiet. It was a heavy, suffocating weight that settled in the lungs and refused to leave. I stood before Mark's grave, staring into the air.

For days, a disturbing hole had been carved into my heart. I looked down at the single white flower in my hand before letting it fall. It landed softly on the dark soil, a stark contrast to the dirt that had claimed a man who had been more than just my secret source. He had been my eyes, my ears, and in many ways, my conscience.

I felt like I was drowning...