KNOX’S POV
Nathaniel pauses for a moment, then nods once.
He offers no argument, rehearsed defence, or rationalisation.
No carefully worded explanation for why twenty years of service should outweigh sixty-three bodies and a drugged cup of coffee.
All I get is that nod.
The absence of a fight from a man who has fought me on every decision I’ve made since I was seventeen was the most damning part.
It is the silent admission that what he’s done has no defence, and any attempt to build one would insult us both.
I stared out the window, and my mind did what it’s been doing all morning — reaching backwards, trying to reconcile the man beside me with every version of him I’ve known.
Because the Nathaniel in that living room this morning, confessing to engineering a m******e, is not
