The Brother I Mourned Became the Monster Who Killed My Son

Just after I handed my son over to his handler at the Family safehouse, I got a call. "Sir, why hasn't the boy arrived? Is he unwell?"

I answered, confused. "I just left him with you. Have you forgotten?"

The man's voice came back smooth and immediate. "Sir, please. Don't play games. I haven't laid eyes on you today."

I went cold and drove back to the safehouse, only to find my son was gone. I demanded the watcher's tape. It showed I had never brought the boy at all that day. Even the soldiers posted at the door and the other men of the Family swore they hadn't seen me near the place.