Azaziel had just bitten into another fruit when the faintest ripple of air caught his attention. It was like a sigh — distant, but wrong. He frowned and turned his head toward the upper balcony, his crimson eyes narrowing. Something was missing.
He straightened immediately.
A hollow silence pressed against his ears, unnatural in the mansion where even the shadows seemed to breathe.
In a heartbeat, he vanished and reappeared outside Nerine's chamber. His boots met the marble floor soundlessly as he rapped sharply against the door.
"Nerine?" he called, his tone unusually cautious.
No response.
He waited a second, then another. The silence thickened.
"Bloody hell," he muttered and shoved the door open.
The curtains danced with the faint breeze from the open window. The bed was empty — sheets tossed aside, still faintly warm. He scanned the corners, the air shimmering faintly with the remnants of dark magic.
Azaziel cursed under his breath. "Kael's going to flay me alive."
