Lincoln sat at the bar, staring blankly into his drink, the guilt heavier than the whiskey burning his throat. He had failed—failed to protect someone innocent. The case that slipped through his fingers replayed in his mind, the look of betrayal on their face haunting him. Drink after drink, he tried to drown the shame, but it clung to him. By the time the bar emptied, he was slumped over, drunk and broken, the weight of his failure pressing down harder than the alcohol ever could.
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