Richard’s POV

The storm had begun to die.

The heavy rain that once slammed against the church roof was now only a soft tapping. The thunder had rolled away, leaving behind a strange stillness the kind that feels too quiet after chaos. I looked toward the stained-glass windows. The black of night was thinning, giving way to the faintest hint of dawn. Pale gray light slipped through, mixing with the dim candle glow.

For the first time in hours, I could hear my own breath.

Paul sat a few pews away, his head bowed, his hands clasped loosely on his knees. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and his...