Chapter Thirty Eight

Grief and frustration warred within Ryan as he knelt beside Luke's lifeless body. The moonlight, once hopeful, now seemed to cast an even starker light on the grim scene.

"A clean shot," Thorne muttered, his voice low and solemn as he examined the gunshot wound. "Right to the head. No room for error."

Ryan nodded, his gaze fixed on the vacant eyes that stared sightlessly at the moon. "Too clean," he corrected, his voice laced with a bitter truth. "This wasn't just any killer, Thorne. This was someone precise, calculated."

"This is bad," Thorne muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "Very bad."

"Indeed, the killer," Ryan said, his voice laced with a steely resolve, "is very smart. They knew Luke could talk, and they couldn't have that."