"Can you recount what happened exactly? In the room, I mean," James asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. There was a look in his eyes—determined, desperate. He wasn't just trying to understand; he was trying to solve a puzzle. A dangerous one. And if he could fit the pieces together just right, maybe—just maybe—he could free his young master from all these damning accusations.
Shane drew in a shaky breath, his shoulders stiffening. His eyes dropped to the floor, and for a moment, James thought he wasn't going to answer.
"It was dark," Shane finally said, his voice quiet, hoarse. "Like… pitch black. When I opened the door, I couldn't see anything. I had to feel along the wall for the switch. And then…" He paused, swallowing hard as his fists curled tightly on his knees.
