Jonathan's P.O.V

Heart falling into an abyss, the seconds seemed like hours.

And then he spoke, his voice as clear and firm as always, as though every syllable from his lips were a sharply cut diamond: precious but precise.

"What does it matter?" From beneath his sneer, from beneath the ferocious burn of his almost black eyes, something flickered across his expression, gone before I could give it a name, but lingering enough that it didn't escape my notice. "The reasons never matter, Johno. The only relevance is in the act itself."

He was wrong.

When it came to a lot of things, Sterling Grey was not wrong, but when...