WILLIAMS’ POV

The photo crinkled in my hand, the edges digging into my skin like the jagged pieces of my reality shattering around me. The figure's words echoed in the cavernous warehouse, each syllable a hammer blow to the carefully constructed foundation of my life.

"No," I rasped, the word a desperate plea to the universe, to anyone, to rewind time and make this a cruel nightmare.

A creeping sound came from the back of the truck pack at the entrance of the warehouse and the familiar shadow of my mum came out from the dark.

Mom stood beside me, her face a canvas of conflicting emotions: confusion, betrayal, a...