Chapter 33 The Quiet Collapse

• Darren paced the living room long after he left Nina’s room. Then, he sat and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his fingers laced tightly. His chest, burning. For years, he’d buried the conflict with obedience and silence. Now, her words refused to let him rest. He wasn’t even sure if he was fighting Horace, or himself.
• His pulse drummed, his thoughts too loud. He pressed his palms against his knees as if grounding himself, but it didn’t help. His eyes kept straying down the hall.
• Before he realized it, he was on his feet. His boots made soft, deliberate sounds against the wooden floor as he moved toward her room. He stopped outside the door, his hand half-raised to the handle.