Ares dragged his attention back to the investigation report Xander had sent. A year-old car accident and a female victim. Nothing about it should have mattered—until he opened the photos.
The first image hit like a punch. A black sedan lay upside down a few meters away from the road, its roof crushed inward as if a giant fist had slammed it flat. The windshield had exploded into a spiderweb of glass, glittering under the harsh white glare of emergency lights. One door had been torn clean off, metal peeled back like a wound. Skid marks scorched the asphalt, long and frantic, ending in a violent smear of oil and blood. Ares could almost hear it—the screech of tires, the thunder of impact, the sudden, terrible silence that followed.
It claimed the lives of three at impact—Larissa's parents and the driver.
Then he saw the other vehicle.
