The manor was quiet—too quiet.
A silence not of peace, but the kind that rotted in anticipation. Alex stood in front of the large window in the drawing room, watching the fog roll in over the hills like smoke from some forgotten battlefield. The storm that had been brewing for days now pressed against the glass, thunder growling low in the sky.
Liam was in the study, checking the perimeter wards again. He'd been on edge for hours—restless, protective, his fangs slightly extended even in calm. That wasn't just instinct. It was premonition.
And then… it hit.
A tremor through the floorboards. A gust of wind so sharp it shattered one of the balcony windows upstairs.
Alex spun, pulse spiking.
Liam was at his side in seconds.
"It's him," Liam said, eyes glowing a brilliant, unnatural gold.
Marcus had arrived.
The front doors of the manor exploded inward with a force that cracked the marble floor. Shards of ancient oak rained across the foyer like shrapnel.
