The door closed with a sound that barely existed, soft enough that even the chandelier didn't stir.
For a while, Christopher didn't move. He just stood there, staring at the faint reflection of himself in the window, an outline, nothing more, swallowed by gold and glass. The collar was cold against his throat again, like Dax took even the warmth with him. He wanted to rip it off.
He wanted to scream until the walls cracked.
His hand trembled as he reached for the phone. The group chat was still pinned to the top, Glass Crackers, their little bubble of sarcasm and chaos, a place that had always felt safe. The only place that wasn't him and the crown and the gilded rooms that reeked of someone else's control.
He opened it, his thumb hovering over the keyboard for a moment before fury steadied him.
