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“When is the cop going to get here?” Cole asked, panic tightening his voice. “I need to see Gabe.” He shifted between sitting rigidly in the chair and pacing the small, oppressive waiting room. The minutes dragged on—time felt like a cruel luxury they could not afford. With each passing second, Abel and the kids were deeper in the Mangler’s sinister grasp, their odds of survival slipping away. Just because the Mangler had given Cole until morning to decide on trading Gabe didn’t mean he would honor that deal. The thought lingered uncomfortably—had he already hurt them?

After a few passes back and forth across the room, Dane guided Cole back to the chair. “Sit,” his friend instructed gently. “Just breathe. Relax. We will deal with this, one step at a time, okay? We just need to…” He released a controlled breath. “… hold it together.”

Looking in Dane’s eyes, Cole admired the man’s strength. Dane was as terrified as the rest of them, yet somehow, he remained calm. If Angel were here and understood his younger brother's dire situation, he wouldn’t be so calm. He’d be losing his shit and rightly so.

“Cole…” Dane murmured in a tense voice. “You said he made you… help him.” He swallowed. “What… what do you mean? What did he make you do?”

Cole sensed the tension in Dane’s voice, as though he hesitated to hear the truth. Leaning in, Cole glanced at his hands as the nightmarish memories he had buried long ago surged to the surface like demons ascending from hell.

Henry walked into his homeroom class and sat in the last seat in the window aisle, located at the back of the room. He glanced at the vacant desk across from him—Ezra’s desk—and felt the emptiness within him grow. It had only been a few days since Ezra and his family had left, yet it already felt like months had gone by. The pain and loss were still fresh, and Henry wished he could curl up in a corner and cry until the hurt went away. He didn’t want to be at school or home—he simply wanted… Ezra.

His eyes burned, and he looked out the window, blinking back the tears. He still couldn’t comprehend Ezra’s absence. The love of his life—there one minute and gone the next. He didn’t know how to process that reality. It felt unreal… like a disorienting dream. His life didn’t feel real anymore.

What am I gonna do without you? Why didn’t you say goodbye?

That’s what felt the most unreal… that Ezra had left without saying goodbye.

He wouldn’t do that—he wouldn’t! Ezra would have found a way to see Henry one more time. He wouldn’t have gone without a word. And that’s what left Henry confused, his mind fragmented.

He thought about seeing his dad at Ezra’s place, going down into the root cellar, and locking it on his way out. The memory left Henry with an eerie feeling in his gut, and a part of him wanted to see what was down there. But he was too scared to look. He didn’t understand why he felt this way or where the fear originated, but it kept him away from Ezra’s house… away from the cellar.

“Henry?” Mrs. Walsh called from the front of the room.

Henry blinked and looked forward. “Huh?”

“You need to go to the main office.”

“Okay…” Henry slid out of his desk.

“Take your stuff with you,” the teacher said.

Henry frowned as he picked up his book bag and walked to the teacher’s desk. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Mrs. Walsh assured. “I believe your father is here to pick you up.”

His father? Why would his dad come to get him before his first-period class?

Henry exited the classroom and walked down the wide hallway toward the front of the school. His mind raced with possible reasons why his dad was pulling him from school, but nothing seemed logical. Upon entering the office, a deputy stood at the front desk. Henry had met him a couple of times but didn’t know him very well.

Behind the counter, Ms. Jenkins glanced at Henry as he walked in. “Here he is now,” she told the deputy.

“Henry.” The deputy smiled. “You remember me? Deputy Roland?”

Henry nodded, confused.

“Your father asked me to pick you up and bring you home.”

“Why?” Henry frowned. “Is… is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” Roland said. “He’ll explain when you get home.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

Henry followed the deputy out of the school to his Bronco, which was parked at the curb in front. Roland held the front passenger door open as Henry climbed inside.

“Is everything really okay?” Henry mumbled when they pulled away from the school.

“Absolutely.” Roland beamed. He was youthful—significantly younger than Henry’s father—and approachable. Henry found himself feeling more at ease with the deputy than with his own dad. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Okay,” Henry whispered and stared out the side passenger window.

“How are you doing?’ Roland asked quietly. “The Sheriff told me your best friend moved away, and you were bummed about it.”

Bummed about it. Henry wasn’t bummed—he wanted to die; it hurt so much. “Yeah,” he mumbled, not bothering to try to explain how he really felt. Adults didn’t understand. They didn’t take kids’ feelings seriously, as if they weren’t real or something.

“I get it,” Roland said. “I know it must hurt like hell. And to lose him so soon after your mom.” He shook his head sympathetically. “I’m very sorry.”

Henry didn’t want to think about his mom, especially now when he desperately needed someone to talk to who understood him.

“Your dad said the boy was… more than a friend?” The deputy sounded curious rather than disapproving.

Henry bit his lower lip and nodded.

“Your first love.” The man sighed. “That’s gotta be extra rough. Was your dad cool with you having a boyfriend?”

“I guess,” Henry whispered. He didn’t want to talk about Ezra.

“He didn’t seem critical when he told me. Though I think he worried the two of you were too serious for your ages.”

His throat working, Henry murmured, “We weren’t. I told my dad we weren’t… doing anything.”

“Was that true?”

“Yes. We just… we just liked being together and having fun.”

“Sounds like a healthy, wholesome relationship to me. I’m really sorry he moved away.”

Henry leaned his head against the passenger window, shutting his eyes. “Me, too,” he murmured with a quiver as a tear slid down his cheek.

“Well, if you ever want to talk to someone, you can talk to me,” Roland offered in a genuine tone. “I know sometimes it can be difficult talking to a parent. So, I mean, we can be friends, if you want.” He smiled small. “Just putting it out there.”

The deputy fell silent after that, and they drove the rest of the way without speaking. Henry was relieved because he wasn’t ready to discuss things that still hurt so badly. And he wasn’t ready for a new friend.

When they pulled up to the house, his dad’s truck was parked out front. Henry didn’t know why his dad was home from work or why he’d sent the deputy to pick him up from school. Tension twisted in his gut as he climbed out of the Bronco and walked into the house, followed by Deputy Roland.

Daniel Pruett sat at the kitchen table, waiting for them. Henry placed his bookbag on one of the chairs but didn’t sit down. His hands flexed as he waited for his dad to speak.

Clearing his throat, Daniel gestured for Henry to sit. “I’m taking you out of school. For good.”

Stunned, Henry whispered, “Why?”

“You’re going to be homeschooled from now on,” his dad replied. “The skills you need to get along in life can’t be taught in school. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

Henry didn’t understand; he couldn’t imagine his dad as a teacher. Would he hire a tutor for Henry? “What… what can’t I learn in school?”

“Important stuff.” His dad leaned forward on his elbows and steepled his fingers as he studied Henry with a look that made the boy squirm. “You’re a special boy, Henry,” he murmured. “I have big plans for you. There is so much I want to teach you, and I am confident you will excel.” A shadow of disappointment passed through his dad’s eyes. “Unlike some.” He looked at Roland. “You can go, deputy.”

Henry glanced at Deputy Roland, wishing he would stay. Being alone with his dad wasn't easy for Henry, especially now that Ezra was gone. The deputy shared a stiff nod with the Sheriff and then flashed a warm smile at Henry, giving him a reassuring look that said he was there for him if he ever needed a friend. Then he was gone. The front door banged closed, and a moment later, the deputy’s Bronco pulled out of the drive.

You’re a special boy. Henry was shocked by his father’s words. He had never felt “special” to his dad before; he felt that way toward his mom, but never his dad. It wasn’t until after his mom passed away that his father began to pay more attention to him. This newfound focus left Henry feeling uneasy. He longed for his mom, whose affection had provided him comfort and a sense of security. His father’s attention didn’t offer the same reassurance.

Daniel left the table and went to the fridge. He grabbed two cans of beer and returned to the table, placing one can before Henry. The boy stared at it, confused. Daniel opened his beer and sat down. “Go on,” he told Henry. “You’re a man now, and men drink beer.”

“I’m… I’m a man?” At thirteen, Henry didn’t feel like a man. And he didn’t want to drink beer. He’d taken a sip from one of his dad’s discarded cans once and found it bitter and gross.

“Age doesn’t define a man,” his dad conveyed. “It’s what’s in here.” He pointed to his head. “You are a bright and mature kid. You grasp life better than many adults. That's what makes you a man.” His gaze sharpened. “Your mother, may she rest in peace, was keeping you a child. She was a remarkable woman, but she prevented you from growing up and transitioning from a boy to a man. I know her loss is painful—it pains me too—but at least something good has come from it.”

What good? Henry felt nothing positive had come from his mom’s death. There was nothing “good” about her being gone. She had treated him like a kid because he was a kid. She wasn’t hindering his growth—she was allowing him to develop at a normal pace.

Suddenly, his dad expected him to be an adult—a man? Henry didn’t know how to be a man.

“I don’t want to upset you,” his dad continued, “but maybe…” He sighed. “Maybe it’s best that Ezra moved away as well.”

“What?” Henry looked at him, shocked. How could he say that? How could he think any good had come from losing his mom and Ezra? How was this better for him?

“I know you cared deeply for Ezra,” his dad said. “But deeply emotional relationships, they…” A troubled look crept over his face, and his voice dropped. “… they distract you from your purpose.”

“Purpose?” Henry asked uncertainly; What was his dad talking about?

Daniel blinked, and the troubled expression vanished. “Purpose. Life calling. What you are meant to achieve in this life. Emotions can often derail you.” He sighed heavily. “I don't mean to criticize your mother, it wasn’t her fault, but she threw me off my course long ago. I was on my path… until I met her. For nearly fourteen years, she distracted me. I’ll miss her, but now it’s time to refocus.” A strange smile played on his lips. “And you’re going to assist me, son.”

“Was Ezra your first boyfriend?” Dane asked quietly.

Cole nodded, tears in his eyes.

“Why did he move away?”

Hanging his head, Cole pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He didn’t,” he choked. “My dad… he… killed his foster parents.”

Dane tensed beside him. “What…”

“He told me… today. He described what he did to them.”

“And… Ezra?” Dane whispered shakily.

Cole shook his head, shoving harder against his eyes. “I don’t know,” he whimpered. “He wouldn’t tell me. I-I don’t think he killed him… not right away.” Cole choked on a sob. “But keeping him alive… it wasn’t an act of mercy… I can’t think about it… I can’t think about what he did to Ezra… how long he… tortured him before...” Cole shifted his hands to the back of his neck and gripped tightly. “… killing him.”