Burke gave the smallest nod.
Behind him, Sinclair was shoved forward hard enough to stumble.
His gaze swept the ruined room.
“You don’t understand story,” he said.
“She wasn’t correcting your writing,” Tessa said. “She was trying to teach you that people aren’t drafts. You don’t get to rewrite them when they don’t behave.”
Silence.
For the first time, Sinclair had nothing.
“It’s over,” Burke said.
Denton appeared in the doorway. His eyes found Tessa first.
“You good?”
Tessa met his gaze.
“I am.”
That was enough.
“Take them both,” Burke said.
They were led out.
Scout finally lowered his weapon.
His knees buckled.
EMS rushed in.
They lifted him.
“I’m here,” Tessa said, voice breaking. “I’m okay.”
His mouth twitched.
Then he was gone.
The room fell quiet.
Tessa’s gaze drifted to the gray metal box on the wall.
POOL PUMP.
The hum beneath her feet cut out.
For the first time?—
Silence.
No hum.
No voice through the walls.
