I stood still, the cold wind biting at my cheeks.

The blue and red lights of the police cruisers flashed against the stone walls of the mansion.

I watched as Celeste was guided into the back seat of the lead car.

The door slammed shut with a heavy, final thud.

Vivian was placed in the second car, still weeping loudly.

The gravel crunched as the cruisers began to move down the long driveway.

The heavy iron gates opened slowly to let them pass, then clicked shut behind them.

The silence that followed was heavy.

The fire trucks were already packing up their hoses near the east wing.

The smell of wet ash and smoke still lingered in the air.

Alexander stood beside me, his shoulders tense.

“It is over,” he said softly.

He turned his head to look at the main house.

A single light was burning on the third floor.

“Ethan,” I said.

“He is safe,” Alexander said.

“I had Thomas lock him in the panic room before the police arrived.”

He looked down at my hands, which were still trembling slightly.