In the cold light of dawn, the pack house lay in shambles. The aftermath of Jeffrey's outburst was still evident—broken furniture, shredded curtains, and deep claw marks that gouged the walls. The morning sun cast long shadows across the wreckage, but inside, it was the silence that weighed the heaviest.
Tim and Sarah moved cautiously through the house, their steps light as they glanced at the devastation left behind by their father. Jeffrey had long since retreated into his room, locking himself away, unable to face his children or the pain of Kenneth’s loss. The house had never felt so empty.
Tim, always the quieter of the two, kept close to Sarah. His small hand held tightly to the back of her shirt as they moved through the wreckage. Sarah, only a year older but somehow feeling like
