Chapter 26 Ashes

• The smell of smoke clung to Willowbrook like a curse.
• I stood across the street from what was left of *Hartman’s Hardware*, its charred skeleton still smoldering under the dawn light. Firefighters hosed down the rubble, their faces grim. Old Man Hartman sat on the curb, clutching a framed photo of his wife—lost to cancer last year, now his store lost to flames.
• “Third fire this month,” Adam said, handing me a coffee. His knuckles were scraped raw from prying open a jammed hydrant earlier. “All businesses that refused Sentinel’s ‘protection’ contracts.”