Trigger Warning: This chapter contains intense themes including violence, emotional distress, and self-harm references. Please read with care.

Keenan stepped fully into the living room, closing the door behind him with a soft click that echoed louder than it should have in the tense space. The house was dim, curtains drawn, only a single lamp casting long shadows across the leather furniture and marble floors. Jimmy lounged in the oversized chair that used to be Keenan’s favorite, feet propped on the glass coffee table, a half-empty bottle of Château Margaux dangling from his fingers. Mark sat on the couch opposite, hunched over his phone, thumbs flying across the screen like...