The metallic click of the handcuffs echoed sharply in the small room.

Margaret began to shriek, her face turning a dark, mottled red.

“Ethan, do something!” she screamed, thrashing against the deputy’s grip. “Tell them she’s lying!”

Ethan stood frozen, his eyes darting wildly between his mother and the exit.

“Mr. Brooks,” Sullivan said, placing a heavy hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “You’re coming with us too.”

“I didn’t touch her,” Ethan said, his voice rising in panic. “I didn’t throw the oil.”

“You lied on a police report, and you failed to render aid to a critically injured person,” Sullivan said. “We’ll start with those.”

They led Margaret out first, her high heels clicking loudly down the corridor as she screamed curses at the officers.

Ethan looked back at me one last time as they guided him toward the door.

His eyes were wide, desperate, and entirely stripped of the arrogance he usually wore like a shield.

I did not look away.

I let him see the absolute lack of mercy in my eyes.

The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind them, leaving only the quiet hum of the burn unit.