Avond closed the door and locked it. It wasn't that he was afraid Wouter might run off, it was that he didn't want anyone coming in to confront Wouter.
He knew what he had lost—who they all did. Dexter wasn't just a newcomer. He'd been with them for as long as Avond remembered, and longer than Wouter's time with them.
He was someone they respected, not just as a member, but an elder. He was respected on the streets because he was fair and reasonable.
A man who, despite his job, was loyal to his wife and was there for his children, who lived far from the city. He had a good brain and knew when to step in—evident from tonight's incident.
He saved Avond's life but at the price of leaving his children fatherless.
So when Avond locked the door, his finger lingered at the key. He didn't think it would end like this—knew that it was his fault.
Dexter was dead, Wouter's trust shattered, and Jade wounded beyond repair. All because of his poor judgement.
