The tension in the room was palpable. Everyone watched with bated breath as Ezra continued his examination of the dilapidated stroller. The faintest trace of a smile played on his lips, a contrast to the cruel spectacle that had unfolded around us.
Veronica, clearly unsettled, crossed her arms defensively. “What are you doing, Ezra?” she demanded, her voice laced with irritation.
But Ezra ignored her. With a dexterity that seemed almost practiced, he adjusted something beneath the stroller’s basket. Another click followed, this one louder and more definitive. The room collectively leaned in.
“Watch closely,” Ezra murmured, his gaze locked on mine. I could feel the warmth of his assurance, a tether in the swirling storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
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