Ally's POV
The air is heavy with an ominous silence as I rifle through the chest of drawers in Elliot's chamber, the scent of aged wood mingling with a hint of his cologne. My fingers brush against the soft fabric of Nathan's shirt, left carelessly behind. A shiver crawls up my spine, not from the chill in the room, but from the sudden realization that grips me.
"Elliot," I whisper, clutching the shirt to my chest, "they asked for his clothes, didn't they?" My voice echoes faintly against the stone walls, betraying a tremor of fear.
Elliot's gaze finds mine, his eyes reflecting a storm of emotions I can't quite decipher. "Yes, Ally. They did." His words are simple, yet they slice through the quiet room like a knife, confirming my fears.