The air in rural Kentucky, the air I had dreamed of for 730 days in a dust-choked desert, finally hit my lungs. It…
The police officer, the second one, the one with the kind, tired eyes, knelt in the aisle. The woman—Mason’s mother—was gone, escorted off…
The Saturday afternoon crowd at Westbridge Mall was a sea of noise, perfume, and shoppers. It was 3:12 PM. I was 20 paces…
My fingers, numb from the cold and trembling, fumbled with the coarse rope tie at my neck. This was it. The moment of…
The walk to my car felt like wading through wet cement. Every breath was a sharp, stabbing reminder of what had just happened.…
The cold November air was a shock. It felt good, like a slap in the face that wakes you up. I realized my…
The room was dark. Deceptively so. The only light, a sickly blue-green pallor, came from the glow of three massive, curved monitors. My…
My head of security, Gavin, thought I had lost my mind. “Ethan, you can’t be serious,” he’d hissed, his voice a low growl.…
“Welcome home!” Mom called out, her voice a little too sharp, a little too bright. She was standing on the porch, wiping her…
The silence that fell was not a lack of sound. It was a presence. It was a heavy, weighted blanket that smothered the…